River of Tenderness

River of Tenderness

There's a river of tenderness that flows through life. We know it when our child's soft arms encircle our neck in perfect trust; in the voice of encouragement when we are feeling unsure; in a genuine smile of a stranger. These moments touch a chord in our deepest selves and resonate against a longing that we feel but cannot name. They are beautiful moments but we don't really live there. In a way they sharpen our awareness that most of life is lived, not in these special moments but, in the turbulence of a demanding world.

Tapping into this river and making a conscious choice to bring more and more of these moments into our life - either as giver or receiver - is the beginning of living a spiritual life. It's as simple as that. Stepping onto the path of spiritual awakening is just a choice we make. Awakening is about opening our eyes from sleep. Physically, we do it every morning. It's about reviving our sense of wonder in the small things in life. It's about living fully through our physical body and mind, experiencing the subtlety and nuance of the natural world. It's about using our humanness as instruments to express our individual and singular melody.

The river's source flows from the beginning, before time. It is love, truth, energy, light, God, Allah, Buddha. It is laughter, joy and bliss. Some of us walk the parched desert of fear unaware that the river flows beneath our feet. Others roil and splash in its sparkling spray and ride the crest of oneness with the source. Most of us are somewhere in between. I know it's there. I discovered it by divine "accident". I slipped down the muddy banks of loss, grief, defeat and despair and landed in a heap with the waters gently lapping against my feet. That was my beginning.

I suppose it's like a newborn child recognizing its mother's heartbeat. It is profoundly soothing and comforting. It is the wellspring of our creation. It is pure unequivocal love and it nurtures our seedling soul. It is infinite tenderness and it flows through our hearts and forms a still, deep pool of quietude and peace. It is the font that, at once, expresses our oneness with the universe and our unique individuality.

The spiritual path, then, is about realizing this river exists and then cutting away the bracken and trodding down the dams that hinder its flow through our lives. It's an adventure. It's scary and exciting and rewarding. It's the quest for the treasure of our true self. As we begin to unravel our true self from the bonds of woundedness and extraneous baggage that we've picked up through life, we will begin to live in the fullness of the moment. We'll discover what really makes us happy, what colours make us feel good, what we really like. And we'll realize how important that is to our sense of balance and harmony. We'll discover what we're really good at doing and will do it with full creative abandon. We will begin to live in authenticity. We will become the conduit for the flow of love and creation as it expresses itself through our person.

The wonderful thing that happens when we make this discovery is that all of a sudden , as if unseen forces have been waiting for us to clear our eyes, we are helped along our way. Call it synchronicity, serendipity, coincidence, it matters not -it's what happens. A book will come to your attention, you'll hear someone speak on the radio, a person will come into your life and feel closer than a sibling. You'll read or hear something and say, "Oh, I knew that.". Where we "knew" these truths from and how and why we forgot them is moot. We're hearing them now when we are able to listen to them. It's like unseen hands passing us from step to step.

In a word or deed or gesture you will know a kindred spirit. He may be the courier delivering a package, the president of the corporation where you work or your own child. They will guide you in the simple truth of authentic living.

Truth as we come to hear it with our heart is not about facts. It is not about heredity, environment, culture, science, religion or wealth. It is the recognition (re-seeing) of a immutable force that connects us to the life energy that pulsates through the cosmos - in its magnitude and its minutiae. The sense is captured in Desiderata, You are a child of the universe/, No less than the trees and the stars,/ You have a right to be here. And beyond a rightful place and being part of the whole, we are also a working, functional part. If we commit our life to the discovery and the living of who we truly are then we are living fully functional lives.

The challenging part about being human is that we don't automatically blossom in full genetic imprint. We do not replicate who went before. By virtue of a rationalizing mind, the development of ego and the voice of the soul we have our hands full of the tangled string of our own existence. We winkle out one string and follow it to daughter, mother, son, father. Another string leads to male, female, red, white, black, yellow. Another, president, bus driver, writer. When we try to connect these strings and weave a life out of it we live a role that is defined from the outside in. This living in subjectivity lays us open to reality by interpretation. We are good or bad, successful or unsuccessful, victim or victor, according to whose eyes we look into. Living a lifetime holding together an identity thus defined can be a very precarious and fearful passage.

Look into your own eyes. The stranger you see will be the unnamed, unformed you that awaits your attention with infinite patience. It is the You who desires to answer when, finally fired by fear, frustration, rage or even depression, you ask the question, "Who am I?" If you really want to know the answer and let that frail little voice speak, it will be the last voice you hear before stepping onto the path to awakening. When you hear that whisper you will also realize that you've probably heard it many times before. You just weren't listening.

Awakening to spirit is about rousing oneself from a walking sleep. It is about redefining your life from the inside out. It takes work and courage and the conscious awareness that the way is simple but not easy. As we disentangle our essential self from the person formed by our individual history we will inevitably meet with dark and painful memories. We need to gather up our objectivity and see these passages and witness how they shaped us before we can release them and move on. Some barriers are so formidable that we are afraid of what nasty surprise lurks behind. But as we chip away, aided by compassion and forgiveness, from ourselves, for ourselves, we draw light into our souls and the way becomes less frightening. We will discover that we have been fearing fear and in our misguided protection of these bleak places, we have been caught in the darkness of our own blindness.

Sometimes the pain we protect is simply an uncaring word from someone we trusted and our hurt has lived on to shape our perception of who we are. Other times the pain stems from an horrific infliction of violence or aggression that cripples us. What we will come to know is that these pains are the expression of another's woundedness. They are our experience, they are not our truth. Just so, we will witness our own acts against others and will release our guilt and heal the woundedness that engendered our acts of unkindness. We will learn how to forgive others as we learn how to forgive ourselves.

As we release the detritus of the past we will inevitably be juggling life's ongoing challenges. This time of release and clearing can be very heavy slogging. It's a time of doubt and uncertainty. It's a passage where only trust in a benign creator and faith in love can carry us through. As we uncover our authentic self we strengthen in self reliance. We learn to trust the voice of creation as it speaks through our spirit. As we become more grounded we are less prone to the buffeting of the winds of the world. Circumstances surround us, but we will choose how they shape us.

Some steps will be forward, some will be sideways and some will be back the way we came. We know the difference by the way that we feel. Like walking a labyrinth, wrong steps lead to obstacles, right steps lead us to the centre.

Awakening to our soul journey is ultimately personal. Only we can make this commitment for ourselves and only we can travel our path, but it is definitely not a solitary journey. We get infinite support and reinforcement. "the gods are smiling" is an apt phrase for this phenomenon.

Our circle of support is rarely found in family, friends or those we work with. As we bubble with excitement and recount the first baby steps of our awakening soul, we are often met with blank stares or eyes that slide away to look at something solid like the floor or the walls. As we plunge deep to do the excavating that's necessary for our release, we will get worried looks and the recommendation to seek 'help'. Perhaps this is as it should be. We need to release the surface dependence on those closest to us to strengthen our internal validation. We also need to protect this fledgling soul from those who would keep it captive to assure the stability and predictability of their own existence.

We will also recognize that as we free ourselves, we must free those we love to be as they are. Fighting to defend ourselves only serves to keep us in the forum of superficial external validation. Remaining calm and sure and living your own growth process in quiet certainty will protect you. It will also empower those around you to make significant choices - or not. What is, is. You are released from what if's and if only's. Growth is about working with the material at hand. Just as a loved one is part of your growth so you are to theirs. You are only in control of your own outcome.

The beauty of this is that you needn't fear the loss of love. Love merely transforms and emerges on a different level. It is more compassionate and giving and kind. It is the love of non-judgment for yourself and for those around you. If you are in a toxic relationship you will choose to move on. If you are in a challenging relationship, you may choose to clear the debris and love more purely. You will recognize in your friendships if they are supportive for you or if you need to keep a little distance. You need not sever ties, merely rearrange them.

Living spiritually and authentically allows the coming together and merging of our essential selves with others. If you are on a different level than those around you, you will be like oil and water. Both are elements of the earth, but do not mix. Press on. You are about to meet someone who will speak the same language. They will help you stay on course. You will help them as well.

Those on the path of their soul awakening see with different eyes. You will "see" the creative essence in another. There is no holding back. You share genuine pleasure at another's accomplishments and genuine empathy for another's struggle. You are neither diminished by what another has or does, nor are you superior by misperceived virtues. It is not an exclusive club. As you are strengthened, you give strength to those around you. The circle broadens and the joy is exponential.

We will also inevitably discover that our step becomes lighter as we travel the path. We look behind and see in our wake the detritus of life as we knew it. We are living a stripped down version of who we used to be. We drop a lot of baggage of what used to be important, but realize we hardly noticed as is slipped from our grasp. The 'new' riches have no weight. They are the child's hug, the tender word, the sound of the rain and the flight of a bird. They are the moments of pure distilled love and beauty. These moments surround us, nurture us, restore us and are as plentiful as the stars. They are free for the taking if our eyes are open and our arms are wide.

As we slip deeper into the enlivening flow of the river we can call back to shore, "Come on in, the water's fine!".

Rose Petals

Rose Petals

January 6th, 2008

Yesterday I made love to my home. I reclaimed her as my sanctuary. I mean I got down on my hands and knees and actually reached under furniture, damp dusted the underside of things where the dog hair clung, carefully rewound the Christmas tree lights, dragged the tree outside, vacuumed the pine needles from under the carpet, and put the gasping poinsettias outside to ‘go to sleep’.

There are two significant aspects of this, one is that I normally mutter and spit through a perfunctory swiping of the floor – gathering the tumbleweeds of pet hair- not quite reaching the corners. I usually make a joke that the maid will get the rest – but I am she and well, you just can’t get good help these days. The second is that I am putting my home in order after the first Christmas and New Year since my beloved husband, George’s death, last February.

Three weeks ago I was ready to bolt. I was going to take my sons to a beach somewhere and let the holiday roll right on past. It was my younger son, Chris who stopped me in my tracks. He said, “I don’t know why you have a problem with Christmas. Last year wasn’t our best Christmas, for sure, but this is our home and this is where we should be.’ In those words and in his wise young eyes was the absolute spirit of George. It is just what he would have said. I hugged Chris and thanked him for his clarity and the three of us chose to celebrate the season and had a holiday much more joyful and healing than sad.

It was on Christmas Eve a year ago that I knew George was going to really die. On Christmas Day at 11:00 PM a 20 lb turkey, stuffing and vegetables were dumped into a green garbage bag – no one could eat. At 3 in the morning after Boxing Day, I got my older son to help me get George in the car and I drove to the hospital. On New Year’s Eve, George and I sat in the emergency room, George in a wheel chair, silent and still, enduring God knows what kind of pain and me breathing and praying. Our two young sons Nick, 20 and Chris, 17 were out at celebrations. I wouldn’t call them until after midnight to tell them I had brought their dad back to the hospital. They had been so relieved when he had been allowed to come home just that afternoon. But wait, that isn’t the point of this story.

That part is the Little Drama as opposed to the Big Picture, as I have come to see Life over the past several years. My good friend calls it the Epic Story. Like the Iliad. The one that is truly our path to God. It is the divine blueprint of All That We Can Be. That path leads us right through the minefield of the small self with all it’s fears and rages, life and death dramas to our Greater Self - the poet, teacher, leader who resides in the heart of God.

Here there is no death. Or rather death has no ‘sting’. There is only love – in it’s many and glorious forms and as we are birthed into this world, live and sooner or later die out of this world, we can be carried through our darkest nights on the grace of this knowing, or be badly bruised on the harshness of a ‘real’ and physical world. It actually becomes a conscious choice over which only we have control.

I cannot trivialize the illness and death of my husband, the father of my sons, my business partner, mentor, lover, and soul mate. George and Marilyn was a phrase. For twenty- seven years we worked together, played together, had lunch together, shopped together, and on the way home in separate cars chatted on our cells to one another. We always had something to talk about. We rarely argued. We loved one another deeply and always wanted what was best for the other. We were only ever apart three or four times in more than a quarter century. It was a big separation.


Was I afraid? Yes I was terrified. I look back and realize I had bargained with God and offered to endure years of a million daily fears in exchange for the One Big One.

Was I sad? Yes, many nights I lay on our bedroom floor and wailed in the middle of the night, mindless in sorrow.

Was I angry? You bet. I hated the arrogance of doctors, the soullessness of CAT Scans, the iniquity of the body. I was bloody outraged that my husband was to die. I wasn’t ready!

Did I suffer? In the sleepless nights and the numbed out days when I couldn’t fix what was broken, yes.

But so what? It all happened anyway – whether I liked it or not.

What emerged from the depths of my experience were a series of lessons about Life and Death. Really about Life, mostly. They are a mere handful of truths that will help us live Life more fully, prepare for our own death more objectively and accept the death of those we love. Death is just the context for living our life. We are absolutely – for sure – all going to die, one way or another – sooner or later. We all know this but continue to act surprised or betrayed when it actually is visited upon us or one we love. There are no untimely deaths. Cancer, car accident, or crib death is merely part of the scrip. We all have an exit ticket.

There is a purpose to every single human life and how we express that to its fullest is our job on this planet. To the extent that we fulfill that mandate, the easier it will be for us to let go of the physical world and give ourselves over. There is a saying that a good life means a good death. To my mind a ‘good’ life does not mean one of perfection – pleasing God in our flawless following of rules, but of being real in all its darks and lights and striving. When we embrace this truth, we express our divinity in being God’s hands, eyes, mouth, ears, heart – healer, artist, teacher, counselor, lover -whatever.

The irony of all this is that I live in a world of healers – spiritual, energetic, natural. A world of miracles. In fact it is my business. After we sold our company and retired, George helped me realize my dream. In July 2005, two weeks after I opened my boutique dedicated to the healing and creative arts, George collapsed and was rushed to hospital. He needed fourteen litres of blood, had a tumor from prostate cancer that had shut down his kidneys and he nearly died. The oncologist refused to take him on as a patient and she said there was nothing she could do. His urologist said he wouldn’t live until Christmas, and he would spend the rest of his life dependant on dialysis.

George lived another eighteen months. He did it for me and our two sons, his family, and many others whose lives he touched during that time. I thought he was going to be my poster boy for miracles. How could the husband of one in the healing world die of the nastiest of illnesses – cancer?

But George did die. And in that passing emerged a profoundly beautiful love story. For in that final walk on Earth together, George, always my protector, led me through the fire of my greatest fears, and in return, I had the privilege of looking deeply into his eyes as he passed through the veil so he would not be afraid. From that moment the life and death drama of every day fell away and I witnessed my own soul’s journey.

I have lived my life in pursuit of the spiritual. I have prayed for clarity and understanding. I was certain that as I prayed for God’s Will to be done, that if I was really good and fulfilled my guidance in building this business around living life authentically and spiritually, I would be rewarded by my husband’s miraculous cure. How else could I really interpret his illness?

As it happened, something was lost in my interpretation. When I surrendered (small ‘s’) to God’s Will, I sensed this voice saying ‘Are you sure?’ and I answered ‘Yep, yep yep!’ because, of course, I thought I knew what that meant. But what God really meant was that I would have to go where I dreaded more than anywhere on earth – and that was to the hospital. In this case forty-two hours in the emergency section where George rocked back and forth on his gurney in pain and I sat on an overturned barf bowl for hours on end. God’s Will also meant that I would ultimately have to give up my beloved to Death when in my heart of hearts I knew he could have been healed. This is where I learned that healing does not always mean living.

To some I have shown strength or courage, but the truth is strength comes through surrender. In surrendering to what is, we can then look to what we need to lift us and move us through a difficult passage. This is where I can gratefully acknowledge the cast of hundreds who helped me – and George and family - by word or deed, practice, therapy or healing to take Life in hand and really Live it – to death.

This is the part I want to share. The circumstances of the Little Drama are the tools for the Big Picture and serve only as the flash cards of greater meaning and purpose.

Yesterday, I plucked some faded roses from the Christmas Centerpiece on the dining table. I was about to put them in the green bin, but instead opened the sliding door and took each one and opened the flowers in my hand and strew them across the snow. The crisp brown outer petals fell away in my hands and within the bud, deep pink silken petals unfurled. Snowflakes and rose petals swirled in the air and cascaded to the ground and rested there. As I look out the window and see the graceful pattern, it is a message that like the roses, there is no death – just transformation and beauty when we look through the eyes of Love.