Creative Meditation

Well said, Rita Dove ...

Where The Heart Finds Rest

Where the Heart Finds Rest

the heart finds rest in random illuminations

in minute ceremonies of ordinary miracles

it is a marvel to be conscious of courage

wade in the sweetness of acceptable silence

revel in the looseness of peaceful prose poems

the heart finds rest in accidental happenstance

in small increments of clarity and welcome whimsy

it is a pleasure to be unabashedly redeemed by love

to be augmented by firmly shaped acts of imaginative thinking

to understand the eminent shorthand of binding kinship

where the heart finds rest is in the little things

elegantly plotted stars and a grain of fine sand

where the heart finds rest is in the kindest things

the knightly things the brightly shining things

turning a narrative into a realized dream

                is where the heart finds rest

 **

The theme of this weekend was everything to do with the marvel and beauty of children. I spent a little time with good friends and their little guy on Friday night. It was a lovely way to decompress after a long work. I don’t get to see them often enough and I was in awe of his smallness which is truly his greatness. All of that wonder in his sweet little face, his curiosity, his innocence, his peacefulness; all astonishing. It did my heart to sit on the floor with him and play toys and to dole out quick kisses to his soft little cheek and hear his laughter. When the world is upside down, the sound of baby giggles, is the best thing in the world.

On the same night, I received a text message from my best friend that her daughter’s water broke. Baby Britton was on her way! After a long labour, the brave and exhausted Mama delivered a gorgeous baby girl into the world. I got meet Baby Britton today, barely 24 hours old, and fell madly in love. She felt like a little miracle in my arms. I look forward to watching her grow and become one of the fierce and wonderful women that make up her amazing family. In the aftermath of losing my Dad, seeing new promising life swaddled up in my arms put so much into perspective. It took everything to suck in the tears but if any had fallen they would have been happy ones. Another friend of mine had her baby boy this week as well. My FB newsfeed is currently full of joy and baby love and I couldn’t be happier.

I always insisted I didn’t want children. It was one of those things, being from a large family, being the baby, all of my siblings brought wonderful creatures into my life and I always maintained that they were enough for me, they all own my heart, every single piece of it, and now even some of those kids aren’t kids anymore and have babies of their own that I love just as much. The only time I truly fell in love with a man, it caused me to re-think my thoughts about having a family. Loving another person can do that, can alter your map. It was a short-lived thought of course, as the love failed but I always appreciate that it opened my heart up enough to consider changing my heart. It left me with some painful regrets, especially knowing that there won’t be a little person to carry me into the world, through their eyes and their dreams and in their own children. It makes my heart ache but it is constantly healed on days like today when I am given the privilege to inhale that intoxicating newborn smell and to be part of a support system and watch them grow up and move through this world. Blessings.

I also designated this weekend to a new writing project. I started to work on a creative non-fiction piece for the CBC competition. My goal is to have it finished by next weekend, the rough draft anyway. It has to be postmarked by March 1^st. I’m confident in myself in that I will meet my writing deadline and get it in in plenty of time.

Without giving too much away, I am writing about my Dad. It took some time to narrow down my options but I found something that I think will appeal to those who knew and loved him. It is a memory of mine and I look forward to sharing it. I just want to do him justice. I said the same when I penned his eulogy and I received good feedback so I know I’ve got this.

It was a productive day. I managed to finish the enclosed poem. To spend a little time alone in my writing room with my headphones on, the window cracked just a touch because it’s mild tonight, to write. And now, after this post, while the laundry is in, I’ll light a candle, sit quiet and count all of the things I’m grateful for. Good things happened today. Good things will happen tomorrow. They will because my life is full, it is rich, not with things or in money, but in people, in poems, in peace.

I hope whatever you did it today, it brought you joy.

In propinquity,

Nic

Creative Meditation

So I don't forget ...

All The Poets In Heaven

Yesterday I took myself out and framed a childhood photo of me and my Dad. It was one of those photos that I hadn’t seen before from the day we did the memory boards for his ‘life celebration’. It is housed now in a crisp white frame, sitting on my writing desk. I sat myself down this morning to write and my insides sunk looking at it. I am really missing him today. Wishing I could pick the phone up and check in to see how he is and what he’s up to, have him make me repeat myself just so he can say, ‘That’s twice you said that!’.  It escapes me a lot of the time that he’s really gone. It feels like he’s just wintering in Florida, hanging out with his pals, raising heck. The popular kid on the block, the fan favorite. Turns out I can’t call him but I can still talk to him. It’s a comfort but nothing beats the sound of his voice booming back at me and his jokey tone.

I watched ‘Heaven Is For Real’ yesterday and since I’ve been thinking a lot about Heaven. I would like to think it is for real and that my Dad is young and able again, happy, with his loved ones, in a place that is beautiful. When you lose someone you love, it raises questions and worries. I watched that film, read about the family and the boy’s experience and it made me hopeful. I want that for him, for Joe and for those I have lost along the way. I want that peace and that wondrousness for them.

Dad showed up in a recent dream I had. I was sitting in a movie theatre, the second seat in with someone, I can’t remember who it was. The seat next to the aisle was empty when we settled in with popcorn and treats. At one point I looked to my right, at the empty seat. It was no longer empty. There was my Dad, sitting next to me with his big winter coat on, unzipped, and his ball hat. He was smiling. I did a double take, I felt relief to see him and said, ‘Dad, I really miss you.’ Then I woke up. There was no time for him to reply. It was nice to see him but it made me that much lonelier for his company, his thoughts, his advice, his wit and his presence. I know he is always with me, logically I know that and can turn to him any old time I like but emotionally it is a strange denial.

So I write poems. This one, especially for him:

All the Poets in Heaven

the one who gave me life rests in a darkened room

my Father impatiently awaiting the end of his days

I capture his weakened hand with both of mine

move gently to him and  whisper softly in his ear

I ask him kind-heartedly that whenever he arrives

to please give my love too all the Poets in Heaven

**

It’s a stormy Sunday here in Halifax. Our first notable snowfall that has now given way to freezing rain and then rain. In a word, messy. It’s a good day for hunkering down with books and films. I’m grateful to return back to my regular routine tomorrow, work, gym, rinse, wash, repeat. Winter is a downer but I am going to try to make the best of it instead of complaining about it but I really do detest winter. I don’t like to shovel snow. I don’t mind the scarves and hats and accessories but the commuting and clean-up are hindrances. I was born in the wrong climate. I need to move somewhere where it’s sweater weather all year round. Dare to dream, dare to dream.

In propinquity,

Nic

All My Fears Are Trivial

I don’t believe in resolutions. Well, not anymore. Resolutions, eat better, exercise more often, be kinder, be better … blah blah blah. I believe in intentions.  And not just on January 1^st but 365 days of the year. Life shouldn’t be about the annual clean slate but rather the on-going mission for growth and goodness. But, that’s just me.

For me right now, there are a few areas that require a little extra work on my part but that has little to do with a new year dawning but from circumstance. Isn’t that usually the case? I have meditated on it over the Christmas break and realize my problem areas and am now striving to improve upon them, which includes but is not limited to strengthening the fortress around my heart to prevent impurities in and firming my small but mighty circle of friends. Time to purge the toxins, metaphor intended.

The one exception to the resolution rule this year is I started a gratitude jar. Nothing fancy but today I dropped my first slip of paper inside. I vow to add to it, even on the difficult days, one little thing that brought joy to my hours. I will do this until December 31^st and then hunker down with a celebratory beverage and read them all. 2104 was a difficult one so this is my attempt to remember the good stuff if things go south. It’s Amorian, it’s good for me. I challenge you to do the same. It’s a negativity net if you will. I’ve reached my threshold and my ability to cope with drama and folks who don’t deserve a chapter in my ongoing saga. Simplify, simplify, simplify. Just happens to coincide with a new year but if the need had come in June … same tactic would apply.

2014 had magical moments. Singing on the top of my lungs under the most incredible moon I’ve ever seen with The Killers and my people in PEI, Gord Downie squeezing my hand, watching people I love and/or admire succeed and flourish, beautiful reunions, getting my tattoo, meaningful conversations with my Dad, card tag, good deeds, daydreams, Hubbards in summer, nights at The Carleton, seeing my dearest friends smile and laugh, my Mom’s 80^th birthday, the amazing rock shows and ringing ears, all of the poems and notes and stories I wrote/tried/wanted to write.

I have struggled for a really long time, trying to tap back into my creativity. I was nowhere near as prolific in 2014 as I should have been. I’m sad that I let life and hard lessons get in the way of the words that wanted to be written. I am working my way back to that self. I know, I sound like a broken record but the long cold winter us upon us and I have to pick up my heart, dust it off and put it to good use. I have to turn off the TV and turn on the poetry. I need to make an Open Heart Forgery reading. I need to dig back in, visit the new library that opened in Halifax and have more artist dates that include writing, research and results.

So, here’s to you all making your fresh start, wiping the slate clean, I’m here with you, listing my ongoing intentions, rooting for you, hoping the best for you and smiling when you succeed.  And even if you don’t, when a door closes a window opens. It’ll be okay. Chin up, open heart, and try try again. If we are always doing our best, we can never truly fail.

In propinquity,

Nic