A Year of Completion...

At the J-O-B that I still work at, where I literally punch a clock and sit at a desk where I am not always called to do my heart's work, there is a policy that my password needs to change every three months.  Now you know the schtick, it has to have a certain combination of letters, numbers and so on to qualify.  I took on creating a password that is a declaration or intention for what I want to create or manifest.  This idea came from another brilliant person who used this to heal a relationship with his ex-wife by having a password that said "L1nd@isAmazing" or something of the sort, so that he contemplated what it would be like to have a loving outlook for someone he had been in deep conflict with each time he logged in to his computer.

Well, I adopted this practice and this year the passwords have been a series of reminders about getting things done and wrapping up projects that had been hanging around long enough to feel very stale.  Not the least of which was completing my Masters' degree.  Along with "Year0fCompletion", I had "MAInterdisciplinary!" to cheer me on to get across the finish line.  They worked and after I received notification that my major research project had been accepted and the Academic Council had conferred my degree, I changed the log-in to "Everything1sperfect".  

Typing a declaration that life is perfect over and over turned out to have its own challenges as I was quickly faced with a world where a dear friend's daughter died and my own daughter's marriage went through major upheaval and the UN declared a climate crisis is upon us.  Less than ideal circumstances for a perfect life.  But, the reminder that life is perfect, no matter what, has been an excellent exercise in trusting the Universe.

I was forced to consider what my definition of perfection is and how often I sit in judgement of how this life is not the right one (and of course, how it would be, if only...).  As a coach, I often ask my clients to hang in with me in an uncomfortable conversation, one where I am gently provoking thought in areas that are unfamiliar.  And, this then applies to me (frustrating when there is no place to hide from your own inner coach!).  

So, the antidote has been I have been practicing my appreciation and gratitude once again.  Next week, as I walk across the much dreamed about stage to receive my degree, I will be present to the power of dreams and holding space for them to come true, even when they seem unattainable.  Absolutely miraculous...and perhaps this achievement came from changing my password?  Who knows!

And so it goes... marking the passage

I remember when this photo was taken in a photo booth in the mall near my childhood home.  My mom had never been in one before and the first shot has us both looking stunned at the camera.  We caught on and this captures the sheer fun that we had together that day. Shortly after that, my mom was found collapsed beside her bed and we began the three year journey that completed with her death in Victoria four days ago.  

She died as most of us would wish to go, with her son and daughter at her side, holding her hand, hugging her and sending her out with love.  She had been unresponsive for the previous few days and neither my brother nor I had seen her for over a week because of an outbreak of Noro virus in the long term care hospital.  I firmly believe that by the time I finally got in to her, she was mostly gone and she never regained consciousness or acknowledged our presence.  Still, I got a number of hours of reading Winnie the Pooh stories, singing the songs I remember as her favourites and showering her with loving energy to ease her way in the final days.  My singing probably left much to be desired and I got stuck after the first verse of several old songs and had to hum the rest (Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do, I'm half crazy all for the love of you.  It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage, but you'd look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two...la la la).  I laughed at my attempts as my mom would have done and I hope she got a giggle from whatever deep place she was dwelling.

As it became clear that she wasn't going to bounce back from this downturn and surprise us with a request for a cup of tea as she did last time, the inevitability of her end was apparent.  I had stepped out for a bite to eat on the afternoon of her death and my brother had to call to tell me to return quickly.  I managed to get there for the last few minutes of her life and had the grace of breathing with her as she drew her last breath.  I have never been in the presence of someone dying and it so reminded me of being in the room when my grandsons were born.  There is this tremendous exhalation of energy in the very last moment of both birth and death.  The world shifts and one soul enters or exits.  The palpable experience I had of being present to my mom's life ending was a gift.  There is no question she was leaving on wings of love.  

I am peaceful and complete with my mom's passing.  There is the business of her death which I am working through as her Executor.  There is the difficult relationship that I have with my brother which is stretched to the breaking point in the stress and tension of grief.  There is an empty space where my visits with Mom and thoughts about how to take care of her existed.  There is a "Mama-less" world to negotiate after three years of being very close and connected with her.  

We had switched places in the last few years.  I became responsible for the decisions and finances of her life.  She trusted me to make the choices and although she was frightened sometimes and not certain of what was going on, when she was with me she said she knew it was all okay.  I got to take good care of her, be a good daughter and let her know how much I loved her.  She was able to tell me how proud she was of me and how much she thought I had done a good job in my life.  I am endlessly grateful for the time she had in my city, where I was a five minute drive away and could sit and watch Bonanza reruns with her and brush her hair and be silly with her.  

I will miss you, Mama.  Keep an eye on us, okay?  

The Waiting Game

This has been a week of intense emotional roller coasters and I have noticed the parallels of coming in and leaving this earth. I recall being the observer of my daughter's pregnancies and watching and being with her as the contractions came closer and became more intense but birth was not yet happening. It feels as though I have danced a similar waltz with my mama numerous times over this last three years. From arriving in Calgary to the hospital in April 2014, holding her hand as she maneuvered through a landscape of delirium and confusion to this past week, sitting bedside counting breaths as she disappeared deeply beyond contact for long spells.  Death, it seems, is as unpredictable as birth and there is great drama and anxiety to both.

After all of us showered her with love and said our farewells this past few days, she is brighter this morning and the medical team is trying a Hail Mary pass of antiobiotics and prednisone to see if she will once again step back from the brink. Given my experience with her, it may well work. I am left sitting here at the library contemplating what seem to be horrible thoughts. Why? Why put her through that? As her representative, I can say no but that was not my response this morning. Why not was my answer. You never know, she might live to see another spring and enjoy the birds and the old Westerns on tv for another few months (or years).

Sure enough, in the day that passed since beginning this, my mom has rejoined the land of the living and is sitting up talking about getting her hair done on Friday.  As I said to the social worker, as I left this afternoon, I feels as though I have run a marathon this week and I am awkwardly explaining to people that my mom has not, in fact, died this week and yes, I will be completing the obligations and assignments that were put on hold as we held a death watch by her bed. The social worker said it is kind of like saying goodbye to someone and then realizing you are both walking the same direction.  When is saying farewell and letting go premature?

And as I contemplate the places my inquiring mind took me this week, I have this awful sense of guilt for wishing it was over, for encouraging my mom to leave and reminding her that we have this, we will be okay.  I wouldn't wish the obvious discomfort and struggle this past week on a family pet, but for some reason, we think we have to keep our loved human beings alive beyond all reason.  My brother insisted that he knew it wasn't her time, and perhaps he was right.  I feel like a terrible daughter considering that if I had been given the option this week, I would have chosen to assist her in passing over.  Because this doesn't have a fairy tale ending.  She is not going to suddenly be hale and hearty.  It takes 5 litres of oxygen pumped right through a full mask to keep her from turning blue.  The wear and tear on her body will eventually overcome her spirit.  I have said for the past three years that I would wave a magic wand and have her slip away comfortably watching an episode of Gunsmoke.  Isn't that what the physician-assisted death is all about?

My mother has never been comfortable with a conversation about the end.  Even in her delirium, she is certain that she has done something wrong to be in this state.  She has never wanted to face the terms of her death and has avoided any talk of that for as long as I can remember.  So even with some legal rights to choose for her, I can't honestly say that I would be following her wishes to apply for the process to end her life by choice.  Which of course, has me deliberate over what decisions I need to make and have prepared for my family.  Time to get on with putting that down on paper!

This remains a mystery to me, this end game.  I am, as my son suggested, remaining curious and observing the wonder of it all.  Today, I am grateful for a little more time with my mama, laughing and sharing how much we love each other.  And that is enough.

Decades passing

Last week I renewed my professional membership in the International Coaches Association and ticked the box "10 +" for the number of years that I have been coaching.  This year marks the 10th anniversary of my coach training and the discovery of what I wanted to be when I grew up.  That year was also my 50th birthday year and a year of unparalleled growth in my career, stepping into vastly more responsibility.  I passed the exam for my real estate license and married off a daughter (now, that was FUN!).  Perhaps there is something to marking the passing of a decade that speeds up the process and gives a deadline to completing something.

Pondering how I want to mark this year has been an interesting process.  I have bounced between worry that it isn't going to turn out to fulfill my high expectations and consciously letting it flow and unfold as naturally and organically as possible.  I have some big projects in the works and as I chip away at each one over the period of a week, I can see some progress and try to be gentle when it feels I am stalled.  My intention for this year is to have a blend of completions and beginnings, with just the right balance of play and effort.  I have no grand plan other than a promise that I will have one great celebration or experience each month this year.

So far, I have been to a live rock show, something I haven't done in years, celebrated with indulgence the abirnerfersary of the first date with my sweetie (42 years ago!) and this month I will see Elton John play live for the first time and take on training in a program of Systems Thinking that fascinates me (that is two for March).  The rest of the year stretches out in front of me and I am approaching it with curiosity and a sense of fun to be had.

The world looks very different now 10 years later and I am spending some time considering the changes for better or worse.  Now, with two marvelous grandsons to play with, living with my sweetheart in the neighbourhood I dreamed of, spending my time directed, for the most part, in what I want to be doing, I don't know that I could have predicted this wealth of happiness that I experience.  There were days 10 years ago when I would stand in the shower before heading to the office in Vancouver and wonder how much longer I could keep up the effort and energy it took to work that job with the responsibility and travel.  Life feels simpler and easier now even though it remains complicated and complex at different turns.

I have conversations with my 70 year old future self and contemplate what life will look like in another decade.  This past 10 years were not foreseen by the Carol preparing for work in North Vancouver, so I expect the next will be just as surprising.  Time to put some messages in a bottle for that "old gal" considering how to commemorate 2027.

What is the note-to-self that you want to forward ahead 10 years?  What will you be celebrating?

If you had a "do-over" in your life, what would it be?

It has been a strange winter in my part of the world.  Today, I am gazing on snowflakes gently drifting past my window (which I am encouraging to gain momentum and give me a decent snowfall since I don't have anywhere to go this afternoon).  I am not winging south to the sun this year, so I have been more focused on the weather here than usual.  I did think this morning how nice it would be to have sufficient disposable income to travel at my leisure and know there was more money in the bank than needed in my lifetime.

That led me to consider the concept of "do-over".  You know, what Billy Crystal talked about in City Slickers, where you get to start again.  I pondered where in my past I would choose a different path if I had the chance to revisit certain pivotal decisions.  Like the time when my parents offered me a trip to England if I gave up my boyfriend who they considered a bad influence (I am still married to him, 38 years today, as a matter of fact).  Or the travel across Canada proposed by a second cousin so we could finally meet after being penpals for over a decade (decided it was too much money and I have now lost touch with her).  And the time when I gave up on a fledgling business, threw in the towel with significant financial consequences (the product we were working on is now sold throughout North America with reasonable success).  Crucial choices that had I gone the other way, my life would be very different.  Better?  Who knows? 

What became clear was that I wouldn't be here and I don't want to trade this.  I have shared before how truly happy I am with my existence, the people in it and the directions I am exploring.  Once again I became aware that all of those twists and turns have landed me in this wondrous moment.  The multi-verse me may have had the experience of the roads not taken and it would be marvelous to compare notes at some point when I have completed the journey this time round.  But for now, the snow has mostly turned to rain that will nourish the crocuses and snowdrops bravely heralding the spring ahead.  

What about you?  When you reach back to remember those moments when your gut told you the left turn vs the right turn would impact the future, would you choose differently if you could do it over?  Where do you think you would be now?  

One thing is certain, there was never a horse that I should have bet on to win against the odds or one number missing to win the gazillion dollar lottery.  And since I really have no regrets about the choices, I can be content with where I am!  I hope you are, too.

Best year yet?

When I first had the word "breathe" tattoo'd on my wrist, I had no idea how often I would glance at it, trace the letters and be grateful for the reminder to consciously do something that is supposedly so without thought or effort.  What became clear was the difference made when I did bring focus to my breath to stop and be aware.  

Lots is written about awareness and mindfulness today and I still experience the outcome in my life as if it is magic.  Pausing to breathe in and out instantly pulls my 90 mph mind from the Indianapolis 500 racetrack blurring through the windshield perspective.  Miraculously, with nothing more than a breath, stillness, just for a second, overtakes the anxious whirring.  A  reminder of this minor wonder was worth the curious bee sting sensation that accompanied the inking of my body.

I approached the beginning of this year with a troubled feeling that I was already behind.  I had the nasty flu that flattened many people over the holidays and looking at the unsent Christmas cards on my desk this morning, I realized that I wasn't getting those two weeks back and it was time to move on to embrace the potential of 2017.  I have a marvelous day book for the year titled "Make %*it happen", with the "S-H" artfully blacked out on the cover.  It is a "Call-to-action" or CTA as my brilliant marketing colleagues would say.  And it is a theme I am very ready to welcome this year.  

This will be the 60th spin around the sun for this body.  It feels momentous and worth celebrating.  It will coincide with the completion (if the good lord is willin' and the crik don't rise too much) of my Masters degree and the sesqui-centennial for Canada.  There will be all kinds of events and fireworks displays which I will take full advantage of to mark my birthday year.  There are also notable opportunities unfolding related to my degree program and advancing my coaching practice and I am really excited about the next twelve months.  I feel prepared to be fully at work, exercising my awareness muscles to gain more capacity to be in the moment and yet gazing ahead.  

Writing, journalling, sharing thoughts and dialogue will enhance my experience and allow me to engage with others to further the happenings.  What is your Call to Action?  What will make this your best year yet?

Balancing the Give and Take

As I looked at my calendar for this month, I noticed there are a number of pro bono engagements, times that will not be fully compensated, at least in a monetary sense.  I am writing a final paper for a course in Leadership and have been asked to describe my leadership philosophy.  Well, I thought, mine must be "give it away".  Often the flip answers that I say to myself in the Q & A time that goes on in my head are worth pausing to consider.  What is it about this desire to bestow something to someone that can have it return such value to us?  

It is not as though I provide anything less of myself to my non-paying clients.  Quite the opposite, I am almost more free to share all of me because there is no assigned value to live up to.  I am coaching or advising them purely because I want to see them glow.  There is nothing in it for me other than being present to the absolute magic that occurs when another human being gets a measure of themselves and sees their world from a brand new perspective.  I have known for a long time that is priceless.  And as I puzzle my way through this, I wonder how this balances out in the karmic world?  Will it lead to the life I envision simply because I am willing to be generous now?  

You may have noticed there are more questions than answers here (which probably doesn't bode well for the 1500 word paper due at the end of the week...).  There is still the concrete, in the world reality, of paying rent and buying groceries that doesn't get handled just because I have shining eyes from my last fabulous conversation.  I can consider a world where remuneration might be that my housing is covered or someone provides me with meals for a week but I don't yet have the structure built to participate in my life that way.  I have a sense we are moving towards that but for now my freedom to travel, to eat at wonderful restaurants and indulge my loved ones is based on my bank balance not whether I have sufficiently balanced giving and taking.  

Showing up in the world

As I notice my reluctance to complete the task of polishing my website so it is shiny and ready to be seen widely in the world, I get to consider what may be behind my hesitation.  I have always thought of myself as an introvert, a shrinking violet and an easily forgettable little person.  I have come face to face with a different person who seems to bear little resemblance to who I know myself to be.

I have tackled my Masters program with zest and enthusiasm and it has resulted in academic excellence.  It turns out that I am pretty good at this school stuff and I love the challenge of expressing myself in a scholarly manner.  More than that, it has been impossible not to notice that I have an impact on the groups/classes/cohorts I am engaged with and that my input and opinions have been welcomed and appreciated.  Not something I expected.

The fact that my MBTI came in solidly as an extrovert and no one else was surprised is another indication that I may not have been as self-aware as I claimed to be.  How could I have missed what others have clearly seen?  What would have me want to be invisible and keep pretending that I am?  I am reminded of trying on a pair of pants in a shop last summer and the clerk saying that I should try on the small.  I said, no, that couldn't be and she said why wouldn't you want to be a size small?  In pondering on that, I wonder why I wouldn't want to be out there and overt instead of covert?

Well, I won't get all therapy-like on you here, as much as I am sure there are explanations in my childhood.  Suffice to say that I am ready to be conspicuous and noticeable.  Launching my website with my newly branded self is a great next step.  Stay tuned, here we go...

Is it really working?

Bounty.  That is what summer means to me.  Bountiful sunshine, warmth, time, gardens, fruit, indulgence.  That is what I am experiencing in my life right now which sometimes occurs as truly magical.  And being the small human being that I am, I also observe the shadow thought that follows... is this really working?  And by "this", I mean the amazing unfolding of my life with all of my fondest desires and dreams coming true.  And what is more, the teensy possibility that it is working out there in the rest of the world?!  The Guardian from London has reported that we are entering a post-capitalist era.  I am excited about that, even though my proclivity for online purchasing may come to and end, I am clear that would be a good thing for the planet (although I may need to increase my wardrobe and pairs of shoes before we shut it all down - wait a minute, is buying shoes from Tom's capitalism?  Doesn't it count as doing good?  I digress...).  

In the world that I have imagined, we have found a conscience collectively and are working to make it better for each other and rely upon fun and silliness as a measure of success.  Many times I have been reminded of my kumbaya attitude, which you may be interested to know is actually in the Urban Dictionary, defined as "blandly pious and naively optimistic".  Well, I wouldn't go so far as blandly but I can see why some people could see me that way.  However, I have been toying with, allowing myself to briefly touch upon the thought that life could be this grand always.  What if each day was completely incredible and there was something to smile about at each turn?  It could be that The Universe is right that life is "brimming with adventure, abundance and infinite possibilities" (huge shout out to Mike Dooley who leads the way for so many!).  Is it that easy?  Is it really working?

Now, I know that toilets still need to be scrubbed, gardens weeded and sh*% happens.  I am very conscious that I was blessed to land where I did at birth.  Not everyone grew up without ever being really hungry or fearful.  But it proves to me that it is possible.  The very fact that I do experience this wonderful existence means that others do too.  And we all could.  

I am going to dwell here in this place of contemplation of a turning.  Moreover, I want to look back and see that I lived through this turning, that we will recall the time when the shift did occur and the optimism became reality.  I am responsible for my part.  I actively share my beliefs about a glorious future and I have recently noted my willingness to be disturbed as Margaret Wheatley describes. This relatively new inclination to be pushed out of my comfort zone of thought has opened new avenues and given me a grateful perspective on the non-kumbaya folk, as that is where the new ideas come from. Margaret Wheatley put it perfectly when she said "we don't have to agree with each other to think well together".   

Come and think well with me.

A new contract for life

I always thought that I would write fiction and perhaps that is what this is. It truly is fiction if the words only stay locked in your brain.

Thoughts this week about a contract with yourself/with others/ a different kind of employment contract.  What if we wrote out our terms and conditions with our employers that went beyond the dollars/hour (week, month, year) and the usual blah blah blah about hours and roles and responsibilities.  What if it described how it would feel to have success, recognition and satisfaction?  What if it detailed your long term dreams and ambitions?  What if the opportunity to have a nap on Tuesday afternoons was included?

Now, Google may have already had this brilliant idea and re-written the usual working agreement, but I suspect most of us are still signing work papers that look pretty much how they did 60 years ago.  And yet this document and the implications for how you spend your time govern most of your waking hours for most of your adult life.

We have been told we now have the freedom to have multiple jobs, several careers, pursue our passions and not be stopped by reaching age 65.  60 is the new 30, right?  You can carry on living (working) your dream until you die.  How enlivening is that?  How much does that make your blood pump faster and your breathing increase?  I would bet that if it does, it is because you might feel a little panicked.  Oh sh*^, I have to keep doing “this” for the rest of my days?  Crap, I would like to go back to the fantasy of “Freedom 55” please.

But this idea of a contract or agreement that sets out much more than the bare bones of how you want it to be has expanded in my head.  What if pre-nuptials took a different look at what the expectations are of that partnership?  What if we re-wrote a contract with our children every year of their lives?  What if we revisited our relationship with our elderly parents – reviewing how we want that to look on a regular basis?  And our close friends?  Could we be more clear on how friendship is described and circumvent some of the pitfalls there?

There are many places we fail to describe how we want it to go, especially when time goes by and we gain familiarity with each other.  We live with discontent and sometimes downright anguish without a clear description of what would be perfect.

As I begin the journey of post graduate education – really at the early steps right now, application in, first on-line course, a recommended pre-requisite, started 2 weeks ago – I have come face to face with how little of my life has been described in sufficient detail to increase the likelihood of success.  Even at this late stage (let’s just say the “Freedom 55” boat has left the harbour), I am extremely challenged by the necessity of a structured business plan for the next 15 years of life.

I am in the situation that at least some of my peers are in.  We didn’t pursue careers, or in my case, even higher education.  We just kept working the next job that came along, sometimes moving up the ladder, sometimes not lasting that long.  Kids and all the endless hours of commitment to raising a family were along the way, as well as supporting a spouse in their pursuit of success or advancement.  Speaking for myself, I came up for air at about 50, realized that I had no plans for retirement, no funds set aside for my golden years, no mortgage that was just about paid off to secure a home for the future and no idea what to do about all that.  In fact, at that time, I was working with a group of fabulous people who averaged 15 – 20 years younger than me so I just kept working my fanny off to keep up.

When that job ended, another not quite 5 year engagement (pretty much the maximum time I spent in any one place), I had a patchwork resume, a little bit of self-directed education which thankfully left me with a certificate in professional coaching and some vague thoughts about a loosely described future doing what I loved, coaching others.

Not sure what else to do, I high tailed it into college, jumping into a 2 year program in Human Resource Management.  It was fantastic and I adored the challenge of post-secondary education.  For the first time, I was directed to think in a different way, dive deeply into a program that offered many pieces of education which I was interested in.  Being a generalist course, it didn’t really prepare me for much and as I found out part way through, I couldn’t even join the professional HR organization because I didn’t hold an undergrad degree.  Not well thought out.  However, the love of higher learning was sparked and I committed to completing a Master’s program, eventually.

Fast forward a couple more years of scraps of part time work, occasional contracts, facilitating coach training and time to ponder a future that seems to be gaining speed in becoming the present.  A friend’s recent death from cancer, three months after diagnosis -  not the first friend I have lost, impacted me differently this time.  The trite expression of realizing how precious life is and how little control we have over the eventual end of it actually stuck this time. 

During a long awaited holiday with my husband in Mexico, I began to notice my resistance to saying yes to my dreams.  How hop-scotching through the stages of my life without fully landing on any square has habituated me to a life that will be fulfilled one day – maybe, possibly, if the stars line up, if my kids or mother don’t need me to rescue them, if I can justify the money, or, or, or….  In other words, never.

I don’t have a terrible life, don’t get me wrong.  I have few regrets and maintain a happy, optimistic view on the world.  I am loved and deeply love others.  I practice gratitude and appreciation every day and reap the rich rewards of that perspective on the world. The question remains about kicking it up a notch as our old friend Emeril would say.  And that is going to take an elaborate, explicit blueprint; a new contract, if you will.

As I prepare to write the Personal Statement required for the application to the Master’s program, I am finally preparing to write the Personal Contract for me for the balance of my life.  The focus entering this program has created is the opportunity to articulate exactly how I want this to go.  I will keep you posted.

A postcard from the way to kindergarten

I began a practice of sending my mom postcards from a wonderful Canada Post app on my phone, which transformed a photo on the phone to a printed postcard with the space for a message on the back.  Every month or so, I would send her one with an update on the family, a photo of my garden or a funny picture of one of us.  It allowed her to be connected with us so far away.  Now that she is close by, I found that I miss the regular opportunity to share what is new or silly that way.  

Writing on a regular basis seems to be a challenge and yet I am so very present to the value of pausing to reflect.  So marking the landmark of the first day of school for precious grandson number one is a perfect chance to write a postcard about the event.

As we walked together with his mom and baby brother in the stroller, my sweet grandson would alter between running ahead of us and lagging behind, holding my hand as the pace slowed when we got nearer to the school.  I watched his clear brown eyes widen when we got on the grounds with the children filing back in after lunch.  They all seemed really big compared to him.  The little "kindies" were there for their first time in the classroom, only 90 minutes to meet their kindergarten teachers and stay with their grown-ups to try on a mini session before the first full day.  

He is used to group activity, having been in organized daycare pretty much full time since he was two years old so some of the process was familiar.  I could see his nervousness though, as he sucked on his sleeve and his finger and stuck pretty close to his mama.  I stood back with the wee-est one to let his mom share this experience.  I remember the importance of being there for the firsts.

I know he will be fine, he is a strong, resilient dandelion kind of kid, cheerful, happy, funny and bright.  He will make friends easily and weather the storms well because he knows he is deeply loved by many people.  So, why are there tears as I type this?  When I think about the letting go of my own children and how flippin' fast those years went by, I want to freeze frame this tender little being.  I want him to be able to keep the soft, loving way he is with the people in his circle.  This is a kid who hugged all his friends every day before he left daycare. Insisted upon it, wanted to make sure that his buddies knew he loved them and was going to miss them overnight.  

Is there room for that in public school?  In the world of boys growing up and comparing themselves with their peers?  How do I support him growing up, strong and resilient and yet preserving that sparkling essence that is so bright and visible in him right now?  Will it still be okay to hang out with his Grammy and pretend to be space pilots on missions to Pluto? 

The grace of grandparenthood is the perspective of having done this before and yet that is also the challenge.  I know, like really get it, how soon it will be that he is graduating from high school - a blink of an eye.  The brilliant piece of all of this is knowing that the foundation we have built, the rock solid relationship we have will continue and we will talk. We will converse about the crummy teachers and the ones he loves, the rotten kids and the new best friends, the stupid girls and the ones that capture his heart.  

When his mom called me this morning just after 9 am in tears, I knew she had just dropped him off for his first full day.  I assured her that he will be totally okay, but I know what she was feeling, watching his sturdy little body, in his new school clothes, backpack on and lunchkit in hand, entering a whole new world.  Be safe out there, little one.  We won't let you forget who you are. 

Letting go and passages of life

I was going through the dresser in my mama's bedroom, preparing the few things that will accompany her to the Long Term Care community that is her new home.  At least, I certainly hope it will be, the final answer has not been determined, but like one of my wise friends advised, I am moving ahead as if what I want has already happened. I will only be able to bring a few suitcases of her belongings on the first part of this journey and need to organize what other pieces will be shipped in the coming weeks.  

The top drawer was stuck and I could barely get my fingers in to feel what was preventing it from opening.  After a number of frustrating moments with a wooden spoon, I pulled out the drawer beside it and reached in to push an old picture frame down to free the drawer.  The contents are many old photographs, documents and keepsakes from my father, my grandparents and my mom.  The photo that was stuck was a portrait of my mom at about 20 years old, a beautiful sepia toned black and white of this gorgeous, vibrant young woman, her curly thick hair pulled back from her face and her full lips are in a welcoming smile.  She is wearing rhinestone earrings that I recognize from a set she has since given to me and a matching brooch.  Her eyes capture you with their pure determination and her flawless, smooth skin glows.  She is a stunning woman and at once I understood why this photo stopped me from opening the drawer.

My mom is 89 almost 90 years old and is at the end of her life.  She nearly accomplished her wish to die in her home and would have, had the Health Care aide not found her collapsed by the side of the bed with a nearly fatal low blood oxygen level.  I flew to be by her side, not knowing what to expect when I arrived and she has now spent over two weeks in the geriatric unit of a local hospital.  In her typically stubborn manner, she has rallied, sufficiently to be ready to be discharged next week, but has been assessed incapable of being in her home alone, due to dementia and incapacity to be mobile without assistance. The opportunity to move her to the retirement community where I work part time came up and most of the paperwork is complete to set the wheels in motion.  

It is a huge move, away from the city that has been her home for 85 years and the house that she has lived in for the past 56 of them.  She and my father raised my brother and I here but my mom was the glue, the backbone of the family.  My father's life was an interesting one, fodder for many other blogs. He died at the young age of 67.  Mom has been here on her own for almost 28 years.  Being in her home has been the single driving force for her life in the past decade and up to 3 weeks ago, I would have bet money on her not ever leaving it.  Now, given the choice of living in a Long Term Care home here in Calgary with none of her family nearby, or a move to Victoria where we all are (me, my brother, my husband, her two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren), she chose to trust me to move her to somewhere safe.  She has also entrusted me with emptying her home and selling it to finance the steep monthly care fees to keep her going.

I have spent the past two and half weeks in my childhood home, sleeping in it alone for the first time.  It has been a period of letting go and saying goodbye.  My mom's memory, gracefully has already faded many of the details of the house and she seems quite accepting, if a little frightened, of the change.  For me, it represents a huge task, but one that I have found can be paid for with a service that will clear the entire house in 4 days.  My brother wants some time to be here but I am leaning towards the fee for freedom method!

Today, I am celebrating the magnificent young woman who smiles at me as I type this from her dining room table.  I honour you, Mama, and promise I will take very good care of you and all that you have collected over the years.  In my heart, I understand why that drawer wouldn't open, she doesn't want to leave, any more than she wants to be in that creaky, painful old body.  I am absolutely certain that the spirit of this being is alive and well inside my mama.  

There will undoubtedly be more reflection as the final days here wind down, along with a whirlwind of tasks to be completed.  I felt it important to pause today, Easter Sunday, to love and let go of this piece of my mom and to move swiftly to the place where we are now, with joy and anticipation of the time to come.

It works... love grows to fill the space!

Well, it happened again.  This incredible, everyday, happens all over the world, ordinary,

miracle that is the birth of a baby.  I was honoured to be present to the happening with my darling daughter, this time for a home birth and the memories of that 24 hours are warm and fresh.
    -  The quiet house in the dark, lit only by the streetlights, daughter in a rocking chair, flanked by me and a dear friend with another at her feet and another snoozing on the couch.  Whispered conversation between contractions about love and life and children and relationships.  
    -  The energy that flows when a baby is on the way - running effortlessly on an hour and half's sleep into the next day.
    -  Bringing my four year old grandson home from daycare so he can be part of the birth at home - playing in his room for a time - coming out to be with his mom - sitting with me, his hand on top of hers as she is seated in the birthing pool, going through the contractions - his love and concern for her with no fear and no hesitation.
    -  The skilled and calm midwives - the celebration when we heard my daughter was at 8 centimeters - she thought she still had a long way to go.
    -  The authority of the midwife who has caught hundreds and hundreds of babies, to get my daughter out of the pool for the final delivery - babe's shoulders were stuck - we just all reacted instantly and instinctively - she was out and onto the couch, which was prepared with the plastic sheets and bedding - Torin was out in one more push.
    -  The moments afterwards with my son-in-law and my grandson gathered around the couch, touching my daughter, hands on the new babe, with the daylight streaming through the window and the beautiful green plants all around - the warm intimacy of being at home with this new life just being brought into the world.

All my doubts about how to share my Grammy-ness with this new one vanished.  I knew as I held him a little later, when he opened his eyes and looked up at me as I sang to him, that we will have our own special way with each other.  He is unique and different and not-his-brother.  We already have our connection and it will grow as we get to know each other.  My heart, like the Grinch's, grew three sizes that day.  

As our community gathered last night, sharing food and passing the baby, I was present to the wonder that a fresh new little one brings to us all.  We are reminded of the poignant possibility that exists in each of us when we are brand new and how we can access that again and again.  

The fate of the second child

Oh, child number two (or in this case, grandchild numero dos) - yours is the fate of being dragged around by your big brother, the subject of blurry photos and recipient of hand me down clothes.  The wonder, the magic, the mystery of that first baby is done, not to be repeated and regardless of how incredible you will be, you will never be first.

I realize that this time round, with my darling daughter experiencing a very different pregnancy from the beginning - more nausea, deep in the bone tiredness and battling more than one nasty infection and exhaustion - the romance of being a mom-in-waiting has lost a little of its appeal.  While we were all eagerly anticipating the arrival of baby number one with her, marveling over each little change in her and the growing belly, just getting the house clean and the mountain of laundry folded with an active 3 1/2 year old around is daunting.

And I have had my niggling doubts about how to be a Grammy times two. Having a second child didn't seem so tough (darling daughter being that baby) and I don't recall ever wondering how I would have enough love to go around, but this time, after falling so hard for my wondrous grandson, I do consider what it will be like for him to share me and how I could ever love a little person as much as I adore him.  Now, I am sure that I will step into that role too; I did have fears about how to be a Grammy 4 years ago, but I do have a great deal of compassion for the second child.

Again, I have the blessing of distance and can see how the dynamics change with two kids.  I came from a family of two children, where the arrival of my little brother was not a grand event for me.  I was quite nicely ensconced as the Princess and I did not appreciate his intrusion into my life.  My brother and I have struggled with our relationship all of our lives and easily fall into the tug-of-war of sibling power unless we are being conscious and aware.

I made enormous efforts with my two so they did not experience their childhood as a battleground of who has the upper hand and attention of the parents. From what they share with me, I was successful - they are close and love and support each other.  Still there are echoes of "but you loved him best" in my daughter's conversation and she looks for evidence that we always held her brother as the favoured one.  

Number One Grandson has been the apple of my eye, the entire focus of attention when I am with him and I have carefully cultivated a space where he knows he is special and very much loved.  Last summer, when talk of having another became serious, I actually wasn't sure that I was ready to share my time with another wee one.  Fortunately, both Grandson and I have grown up a little.  He is more independent and I am more ready to let go (a little) of our time together.  We will work our way through it.  

Timeless as Cain and Abel, siblings need to learn how to be with each other or risk dire consequences.  Nowhere is it more evident that we are each individuals and despite being raised by the same parents, in the same house, we turn out very differently.  I will need to be conscious and mindful of how I be Grammy for two.  This will cause me to grow my heart even bigger.  That is a good thing!

Some pondering on the nature of miracles

This last few days I have had cause to consider the nature of miracles and angels.  Through the magic of this remarkable contraption that sits in front of me, I was informed about a friend, who I know only online, and a catastrophic health situation that occurred for her in a shockingly short period of time.  Saturday, she was fine, celebrating a birthday, thanking people for their wishes on Facebook and on Tuesday morning I found an urgent message (I can tell because my polite FB friends only use CAPITALS in case of emergency) to view her page to get important information about this friend.  Laura was in hospital in critical condition, having lost most of the blood in her body and the doctors were saying there was little hope that she would survive the day.

I recall saying "Holy Sh*$" out loud and trying to find out as much as I could given that I live thousands of miles away and have only this tenuous connection of "friend" on Facebook and another blog writing site.  Over a period of hours, more and more people got the word and joined a virtual vigil on her FB page.  Prayers, thoughts, remembered times with Laura were shared and updates from the family at the hospital trickled in.  The news kept getting worse and after surgery, she was not expected to live through the night.  One marvelous woman who had been able to see Laura at the hospital shared that she felt Laura was not sure about whether to re-join us on this earth and may choose to cross over that night.  We were asked to love her and bless her decision whatever it may be.

It did seem that a miracle was the only option available as the medical professionals had done all they could to patch up her body and fill her back up with a stunning 88 units of blood.  I checked in the next morning to find that Laura made it through the night and was facing another surgery.  She survived that one and in the following morning's posts I  learned that she had a little colour in her face, that her kidneys were working and while more operations were scheduled to to clean up and repair as much as possible and found out that she had her pancreas and some of her liver removed.  

Day after day, more and more people joined the watch over Laura, virtually and physically.  Friends joined family at the hospital, unable to see her in her critical state but just being there lending support, bringing food, hugs and love.  Slowly, slowly, she is coming back. She is now back to consciousness, responding, anxious to communicate and very much in this world.

There is no reasonable explanation for why Laura is alive right now.  The doctors had given her a 10% chance of living through the first 48 hours.  I believe I have witnessed and been part of a miracle; the combined energies and prayers, thoughts and belief that transcended distance and time and gently held Laura while her soul chose to stay with us.

I don't pretend to understand how any of this works.  I can only say that I am humbled by the power of the outpouring of  love and in awe of how words on a screen can transform a life.  Blessed be Laura and all those around you!

A winter of content?

Having read of the identification of the long buried remains of King Richard III (under a parking lot, now who would have ever thought to look for them there?), I was interested to read of the words accredited to him via our friend Will Shakespeare - "My kingdom for a horse" (I thought it was Bugs Bunny who said that...) and "now is the winter of my discontent".  

It made me think of how winter seems to breed discontent and here in the northern climes, I am right on board with the throngs of Vitamin D deficient, sallow cheeked, slug-belly white folks, peering anxiously out their windows, hoping for a glimpse of sunshine and yearning for warmth.  I have developed a dangerous attachment to my down duvet and have learned to step out of my shoes into my fleece lined slippers without ever risking a step onto the cold floor.  While I live in the most sub-tropical region of this grand country, the mercury is hovering constantly under 10 degrees (or 50 degrees F for those who need a translation).  That just isn't warm enough...

However, what really drew me to comment was that despite the chilly environment outside my door, I am experiencing a distinct contentment.  As I have noted previously, I am immediately suspicious of this feeling, waiting for the shoe to drop and the dread to creep in.  But this time, there is some sense of sustainability to my contentedness.  I can hear my coach asking, "where does it live in your body?".  Good question, coach... well, it is centred around my heart.  Funny that, lines up with all that I am learning about the power of our hearts.  Did you know the heart muscle responds before the brain fires?  And that hearts can be broken?  And we all know the cost of not caring for our hearts.  In my case, my dad was gone at the young age of 67 because of heart condition that first threatened his life in his 50's.  And yes, as I pass the midpoint of that decade, I am all too aware of what nurtures and what challenges my heart.

Consciously building into my life the pieces that are loving to my heart is so worthwhile.  Continued learning, supported by people who are awake and sharing their consciousness and commitment with me makes a huge difference.  Practicing stretching and working on my mind and body brings focus and determination to this ability.  I get reminders to be silly and have learned that being happy does not have a limit, that is to say you cannot be too happy.  

A year or two ago my mantra was "Trust the Universe", this year it is "Let Go".  I am so committed to that lesson that I am preparing to get it inked on my arms.  My daughter had "Let Go and Breathe" tattooed on her wrists a long time ago and it is just about the only permanent expression I can imagine living with for the rest of my days.  So, I have dug out my calligraphy pens and am designing the letters that I want re-created on my wrists.  I don't think there is much more that needs to be said; just, let go!

So this is Christmas

So this is Christmas... another year over...

Each time the traditions change, I have to manage myself a little and let go of how it is "supposed to be".  Christmas is the time where I am the most attached to my perfect little Currier and Ives images and have to remember that I am an evolved human being and I do know that life doesn't always reflect those pictures painted from someone's equally tradition-laden imagination. 

This year, on Christmas Day, I am sitting tapping away on my laptop while trying not to listen to the soundtrack of a DVD that would never be my choice for entertainment on this day of families and dreaming of white Christmases and carols tinkling away in the background.  I mean, really?! Resident Evil?!  It is a good thing I am committed to being married to this man for the rest of my life... where is Jimmy Stuart when you need him?

And tonight my dear children are celebrating with their significant others and their families and no one had a large enough home to include the growing circle of children, in-laws and friends.  I realize that it would take a community centre sized space with a commercial kitchen to prep the dinner of that size and while we might tackle that kind of mega-event once a decade or so, truth is that future Christmases will all take a different shape. This has been shifting over this past decade and I officially passed the torch (and 5 or 6 boxes of decorations) to my daughter after the darling grandson was born so I have been winding up my time as Ms. Claus.  This year we enjoyed a fabulous dinner together on Christmas Eve, clearing space for other activities today.  Christmas morning was just awesome with the new easel being a big hit for the grandest boy.

I truly got the message 4 years ago when we were renting the biggest home I have ever lived in, in an amazing rural wonderland and I went all out to create the ultimate family gathering, only to have a good old fashioned blizzard and some challenging family dynamics have the whole family bugging out at 8 am on Boxing Day, leaving me with way too much food and booze and an absolutely perfectly decorated home (I did pay attention to the details on the Currier and Ives cards!).  As I sat with tears running down my cheeks, my sweet husband reminded me that he was still there and we could have wonderful leftovers while overlooking the fantastic winter scene through the giant picture windows, framed with twinkling lights.

Good opportunity to be grateful tonight though... this has truly been an amazing year and reflecting back on the past blogs, my life has continued to unfold in miraculous and wondrous ways.  I sit at the end of this year, having completed 2 years of my first efforts of post-secondary education, with an A+ average and an Advanced Diploma in Human Resource Management to show for it.  (My next adventures in higher learning are coming soon - but that will wait for another time to post about). My work is evolving into exactly what I want it to be - the time spent, the people I work with, the challenges we are undertaking, the potential both for growth and great compensation.  My relationships are all feeling full and lovely and complete.  I adore my home, pausing often to give thanks when I walk through the door for a home that just feels right.  I love and support my adult children as they go about their lives with a healthy balance of involvement and objectivity.  My dear husband is transforming his health through determination and commitment and looks better every day.  My mom is well, slowly fading as I would expect at her age, with a stubborn insistence on living independently and so far we have been able to provide her with as much assistance as she needs relatively simply.  My grandson is perfect and I treasure each moment I spend with him.  We have a regular playdate each week and now include games of imagined friends and stories and so much laughter.  I feel so incredibly fortunate to have this time with him while he is still in love with his Grammy.  Our time together just melts away effortlessly.  

Tomorrow night I will host a gathering of dear friends for a Boxing Day celebration.  Many of us shared a delightful dinner on the Solstice with wine and incredible conversations.  Having more access to my friends this year is more to be thankful for.  We have reached that eclectic age where we can both wise and silly - what fun!

And so, this is Christmas in all of its splendor and grunge - in a time where we pause to think about Peace on Earth, I bring my focus and attention to sharing my good fortune and spreading my good will around even further next year. 

Ponderings on the end (or beginning) of the world...

So, here we are, 18 days away from either the end of the world as we know it or a glorious new entrance to the next era for mankind, depending on who you talk to.  Now, I was visiting the Yucatan peninsula 13-14 years ago and came upon the Mayan prediction at a time when I was deeply engaged in exploring all aspects of my world, including Mayan ruins and deep, clearly connected to the earth cenotes on land that roared to me with its spiritual importance and significance.  It just made sense; of course, the end of this time was upon us, it seemed quite obvious. And was I called to being there, in the shadow of the ancient Mayans for this very important transition? Hell, yes!!

But life happened... businesses were sold and started and failed and marriages began and ended (not mine, by the way) and a grandson was born and I changed careers, went to school and moved a lot.  And grand plans of the ultimate excursion to bear witness to the Mayan prophecy in situ with each and every person that I love has become an intimate dinner with 5 or 6 of my dear friends where we will ferociously debate this time and place over wine and great food and fully expect to wake on December 22nd with little noticeable alteration to the landscape we gaze upon.

Will that be it?  Is that all that will become of this potential to transform our planet overnight?  There is no question that I sense a building energy around me; observe it in all my coaching clients, loving relationships and world politics, but like the quantum physics question - did our observation of this condition change the state of it or is there a natural progression of human beings that we have the privilege of bearing witness to?

I choose to believe; partly because I get to choose what I believe, that we are in the company of a very small number of humans who will have an opportunity to be alive at a time of momentous change.  We have already seen the madness of Y2K and lived to describe it (or did you party like it was 1999?) and this next step feels like the maturing of humans.  Like the time of adolescence for any species, there are some of us that are entering into it kicking and screaming, digging our heels in and fingers clawing at the doorway.  This evolution is inevitable or like Darwin observed, we too will come and go as a species and some entity like David Attenborough (okay, now imagine David in a more insectoid form) will be describing at length the marvels of the Homo Sapiens and pontificating upon their downfall.

It does occur that there is some urgency over these next precious days to be being in a way that allows this shift to happen with some ease and grace.  Perhaps that is the blue skying daydream.  Birthing, maturing, changing are not easy or simple states to pass through and while I sit here typing away (interrupted by not one but two of my loved ones in challenging circumstances reaching out for some assistance), I will need to apply all of my appreciative powers and wisdom and knowledge, without hesitation to "hold space" for us all.

These rare points of alignment of celestial bodies and peoples' passionate desires for a world that works are not to be wasted.  In the next 18 days, I will take on a conscious awareness in each of my interactions and communications.  This time is not like any other and it won't ever happen again.  Carpe diem was never more important!  

See you on the other side!!

Musings on the passage of time...

As I logged on to my blog for the first time in months and found that the environment I was familiar with had changed, it did occur to me that there is a metaphor here.  No surprise that my own landscape, both internal and external has gone through significant shifts in the past year too.

I observe that I have spent a great deal of my life waiting for it to start, you know, for real, the good stuff, the life that I have been anticipating etc.  And at the same time, I have been engaged in the practice over this past decade of being mindful and present in the moment, so that sense of being suspended waiting for something or someone to make the difference so I know I am living the right life is no longer so prevalent.

I maintain a marvelous sense of satisfaction in my life, for the most part.  I am living where I want to live, enjoy the shared, created space that living with family affords me.  I work at several occupations, each of which nourishes me in a different way.  I continue to attend post secondary education (for the first time in my life) and have discovered I am an excellent student and have been able to apply my education in real life since the very first class in this program.  I am delighted by time spent with my grandson and have begun to have whimsical and and interesting conversations with him.  On the other side of the spectrum, I have the privilege of participating in assisting my aging mother and often have whimsical and fascinating discussions with her.  I have discovered a depth of love and acceptance and wonder in my marriage of 33 years.  I will be planting a garden for the first time in decades and look forward to harvesting food and having fresh cut flowers for my home that I have grown. 

I read this article by Andrew Cohen yesterday and found myself moved to tears.  This passage "This is not to deny ... that we have enormous problems to solve and unexpected disasters to face. It’s just that if they’re right, we have good reason to feel a lot better about ourselves and our collective future."  I find that I feel guilty about being optimistic in the face of what seems like overwhelming bad news that we see at 6 o'clock each night.  Recent events in my life and in those around me have given me an opportunity to consider that my perspective of faith in humans and our capacity for love and compassion is not misplaced. 

All in all, life is good.  After checking in on what condition my condition is in, I am happy to report that this has been a most excellent year.  Taking more time to share how this is for me is in the works for this next year!  Thanks for reading. 

Disasters and why we write - my version

I find that I am drawn to watching the videos, reading the reports and scanning the headlines about Japan.  It holds this macabre fascination and reminds me over and over that it is real and I am graced merely by the fact that it hasn't happened here (yet...).  As the reports of imminent nuclear meltdowns race round and round this little world of ours, it is obvious that disaster is a wayward wind away.  And the fact that the earth didn't rumble and shake here is no guarantee that we won't share the same repercussions.

So, I am then drawn to writing, to exorcising the thoughts and fears in my head.  While my words lack the wonderful grace of my friend Ruth, I am clear that they will be helpful, at least to me.  I have the assignment in one of my classes (school, oh, school - thank the heavens that I have this marvelous place to be and be thinking and thoughtful and active and in discussions that are thought-provoking and all that...) to write a reflective journal about my learning each week.  Aside of the fact that I am fascinated by the instructor and feel so inspired and rewarded to be in his class, this assignment alone has made the difference in my education.

Yesterday I was pondering the idea that the whole world will not be recognizable in a very few years.  Now, this whole crisis unfolding in Japan is no doubt a piece of the travels that my mind has been travelling but several of the paths that I have been mentally wandering down have a similar theme.  Life as we know it is changing.  I think we all agree on that.  How much and how radical the changes will be is a matter of debate.  But if we are not sustained by an economy that operates in this familiar way, if we can no longer count on bananas from Ecuador, if all the education and experience of a lifetime won't guarantee you a paying job, then what the heck are we going to do?  

We watched an amazing TED talk video in class yesterday.  Deborah Gordon on the complex systems of ants.  It relates to our Organizational Behaviour class and organizational design.  However, one of the most fascinating parts for me was a revelation about a part of the ant colony that is apparently always at rest.  They have no jobs, they go nowhere, they are there to be called upon when needed.  In a time of crisis in the ant colony they take on whatever role is necessary and they never return to their resting space.  They are the reserves.  I am pretty certain we no longer have "reserves" in our modern world.  We don't have the resources to keep whole groups of people taken care of in case we need them.  It doesn't matter that it would be incredibly useful to have fresh individuals, prepared for whatever was asked of them waiting for the call, we have used them all up in the demands of everyday life.  

Our leisure time is full, our work lives are frantic, the demands upon us to keep producing, consuming, moving are never ending.  And all it takes (all?!) is one natural disaster for us to realize that Gaia doesn't care about any of that.  When it comes right down to it - how are you going to stay alive?  How are you going to help your neighbour and family to do the same?  Where are those reserves when you need them?  

Like the ants in protection of their nest, we need all the possible resources to combat the disaster that our fellow humans in Japan are experiencing right now.  Because of the nature of the disaster, we may need our own resources to combat the effects of that catastrophe here at home.  And yet we are so ill-prepared.  And I don't mean the earthquake kits we may or may not have in our closets or the potassium iodine tablets we keep, in case.  We will need to call upon energies and stores of love and compassion that are not commonly used.  

I have come to the conclusion that the end of the world as foretold in the Mayan calendar is not simply the physical challenges we are facing.  We will need to be willing to accept a world that doesn't work the same way that we have been used for thousands of years.  Money, work, ownership of objects will not have the same significance and measure of success we have grown up understanding.  While I am certainly not an expert on what is to come, I am willing to prepare as best I can for something unpredictable.  The contradictory nature of that sentence is intended as this will not be a world we can navigate with the same tools.

Like many people, I do some of my best work when my back is up against the deadline.  I think this earthquake in Japan is a clear reminder that the deadline is in sight.  Time to focus on where we each have an internal reserve and how best to nurture it right now.  For the time to call in the reserves is coming soon!