BUILDING MEMORIES
Those precious joyful family moments that stop me in my tracks, those unexpected treasures I am privy to, as I watch trying to etch the moment into the memory banks of my mind, all the time wishing I could capture the moment for all to enjoy. But I stand there selfishly, choosing to observe from afar so as not to spoil the magic of the scene as it unfolds itself.
The world recedes as I am touched to my core by the power of simplicity unfolding before me as I stand in silence watching. I am so mesmerized that I barely notice someone has started capturing the moment on a video camera. Words of our language fail miserably at describing this precious moment. I am captivated and so grateful that I aimlessly wandered into this touching moment.
What a wonderful picture of love it was, Toto Trudy playing the piano with little Nathan by her side playing his own song. After awhile, Lolo Ralph joined in making up the trio spanning three generations.
Amazingly, the hi-tech gadgetry of the day provided its own memories too when Uncle Ted commented to his nephew, Jay, that he should have seen that basketball shot. Jay picked up the TV remote pressing rewind and to watch the missed moment all over again.
Our Christmas gathering is so much more than giving and receiving presents. The real gifts are the simple things as we share those precious moments in time.
Lynn Keeling
Dec 27/09
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Yesterday's Gift
The gift was an angry screaming exchange with Ralph. Over what? Not much really. Threads of the past tangled into this present moment. All our own stuff surfacing to the top and rearing its ugly head, wanting to be looked at I guessed.
I reverted to my old patterns. Quietly muttering, teeth gritting, seething as the hours pasted, trying as I might to use the relaxation calming tools I know so well. Those unspoken words of my conversation with Ralph playing over and over again in my head as I so needed to prove I was right.
The roller coaster of angry rose and fell, moments of wanting to scream and throw things mellowing out closer to being released. I was remembering to ask the why question, willing to look at myself to discover the source. Willing to figure out the lesson the universe was presenting, to make that healing shift.
I turned to the internet, looking up EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) for help. I had been meaning to get around to learning more about it and practicing it on myself. In this moment I reached out for help and found it as I watched and followed along with video clip after video clip. Each one leading to the next, speaking just what I had been asking the universe for – an abundance of wealth, health, and relationships so I could be heard and make a difference to others in this world. Releasing and letting go of the fear that keeps me stuck.
Things shifted and I thanked the universe for the gift Ralph had given me this day. My feelings of love grew even stronger, if that is possible.
The lesson was that the universe will guide me to where it wants me to be. Now if I could just make the chose to listen to, and act on, the more subtle nudges along the way.
I love myself and this wonderful process called life. Thank you GOD.
Oct 18, 2009
I reverted to my old patterns. Quietly muttering, teeth gritting, seething as the hours pasted, trying as I might to use the relaxation calming tools I know so well. Those unspoken words of my conversation with Ralph playing over and over again in my head as I so needed to prove I was right.
The roller coaster of angry rose and fell, moments of wanting to scream and throw things mellowing out closer to being released. I was remembering to ask the why question, willing to look at myself to discover the source. Willing to figure out the lesson the universe was presenting, to make that healing shift.
I turned to the internet, looking up EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) for help. I had been meaning to get around to learning more about it and practicing it on myself. In this moment I reached out for help and found it as I watched and followed along with video clip after video clip. Each one leading to the next, speaking just what I had been asking the universe for – an abundance of wealth, health, and relationships so I could be heard and make a difference to others in this world. Releasing and letting go of the fear that keeps me stuck.
Things shifted and I thanked the universe for the gift Ralph had given me this day. My feelings of love grew even stronger, if that is possible.
The lesson was that the universe will guide me to where it wants me to be. Now if I could just make the chose to listen to, and act on, the more subtle nudges along the way.
I love myself and this wonderful process called life. Thank you GOD.
Oct 18, 2009
Saturday, July 04, 2009
listing coincident moments
Entry July 4/09
I said to Ralph, "I want a Nathan hug" (our 2 year old grandson). An hour later our daughter in law, Jean, phones and asks if we want to meet them at the park across the street. I got lots of Nathan hugs and kisses and I love you's. Had my Nathan fix.
We were invited to Stephens for dinner on Saturday. We decided to buy Stephen a bottle of wine for a house warming gift. This morning, Saturday, there was 4 crystal wine glasses on the table in the laundry room (and other stuff). So we gifted them to Stephen with a bottle of wine. He used to live in our condo building and was aware of the laundry room swap table. It was fun to bring him a piece of his old home.
I said out loud to Ralph that I had a craving for strawberries a few days ago. Tonight we were at Stephens for dinner. Dessert was strawberries and raspberries. Mmmmh, mmmhhh!
A few weeks ago I saw a news article on TV about a "driftwood" labyrinth at a retreat located between Campbell River and Comox, BC. I checked out their website and emailed a friend on Vancouver Island about it. She forwarded it to Gail back here in the Vancouver area (with BCTTN) who just sent me an email thanking me for the information. She has registered for a retreat weekend and will be checking it out for the BCTTN. She took it as a 'sign' that she was supposed to go, as her daughter is off on a camping trip with her dad that weekend. The psychic running the workshop is from Vancouver.
Last night, Ralph finally remembered to tell me that I had a message on the answering machine from Mary. I was at the answering machine about to push the button to listen to the message when the phone rang and it was Mary. We had a very wonderful healing conversation. I had a choice to make - either go to the monthly Steveston Wellness Clinic (usually the 1st Wed of month, but changed this month because last week was July 1st.) or go to the monthly Seniors movie at the Richmond Mall (2nd Wed of month) with Ralph. Price is a donation to the food bank. Todays movie was Slum Dog Millionaire. I chose to go to the movie with Ralph. I value and treasure our together activities. And the movie was great.
I called Mary tonight. She said that Monica was not at the Wellness Clinic today and that they were really busy. She worked on 8 people and was there until 1:30. BUT, then she told me the most remarkable story of her eventful morning. She said she was surprised that I wasn't going to go to the Wellness Clinic. Usually she would pick me up. As she was driving to Richmond (from Surrey) she was questioning herself in the moment... not being at her best and thinking she had nothing to offer and didn't want to go either. Because she wasn't picking me up - she went to a McDonald she wouldn't have gone to if she had. She took in a Reiki book to read. She was asking for answers... She went out a door that she would never usually use and noticed a medallion of Virgin Mary on the ground. She took it as a sign that she was to use Mary in her energy healing work this morning. She put the Virgin Mary medallion in her glasses case for safe keeping. When she got to Steveston, she sat in her car for a moment and took out her glass case. It was a cloudy rainy day today - no sunshine. There was a blue light shining across her glass case. She asked Virgin Mary for her help in the Reiki sessions she did. Everyone expressed that their session was great. Mary felt great. She is still relishing the moment. I felt a healing shift ah ha, in myself in hearing her story. And we realized that - Something that someone had lost was instrumental for her. It made us both feel freer, knowing that we can now let things go more easily if we lose something. There is a bigger purpose - bigger picture. The healing continues.
I said to Ralph, "I want a Nathan hug" (our 2 year old grandson). An hour later our daughter in law, Jean, phones and asks if we want to meet them at the park across the street. I got lots of Nathan hugs and kisses and I love you's. Had my Nathan fix.
We were invited to Stephens for dinner on Saturday. We decided to buy Stephen a bottle of wine for a house warming gift. This morning, Saturday, there was 4 crystal wine glasses on the table in the laundry room (and other stuff). So we gifted them to Stephen with a bottle of wine. He used to live in our condo building and was aware of the laundry room swap table. It was fun to bring him a piece of his old home.
I said out loud to Ralph that I had a craving for strawberries a few days ago. Tonight we were at Stephens for dinner. Dessert was strawberries and raspberries. Mmmmh, mmmhhh!
A few weeks ago I saw a news article on TV about a "driftwood" labyrinth at a retreat located between Campbell River and Comox, BC. I checked out their website and emailed a friend on Vancouver Island about it. She forwarded it to Gail back here in the Vancouver area (with BCTTN) who just sent me an email thanking me for the information. She has registered for a retreat weekend and will be checking it out for the BCTTN. She took it as a 'sign' that she was supposed to go, as her daughter is off on a camping trip with her dad that weekend. The psychic running the workshop is from Vancouver.
Last night, Ralph finally remembered to tell me that I had a message on the answering machine from Mary. I was at the answering machine about to push the button to listen to the message when the phone rang and it was Mary. We had a very wonderful healing conversation. I had a choice to make - either go to the monthly Steveston Wellness Clinic (usually the 1st Wed of month, but changed this month because last week was July 1st.) or go to the monthly Seniors movie at the Richmond Mall (2nd Wed of month) with Ralph. Price is a donation to the food bank. Todays movie was Slum Dog Millionaire. I chose to go to the movie with Ralph. I value and treasure our together activities. And the movie was great.
I called Mary tonight. She said that Monica was not at the Wellness Clinic today and that they were really busy. She worked on 8 people and was there until 1:30. BUT, then she told me the most remarkable story of her eventful morning. She said she was surprised that I wasn't going to go to the Wellness Clinic. Usually she would pick me up. As she was driving to Richmond (from Surrey) she was questioning herself in the moment... not being at her best and thinking she had nothing to offer and didn't want to go either. Because she wasn't picking me up - she went to a McDonald she wouldn't have gone to if she had. She took in a Reiki book to read. She was asking for answers... She went out a door that she would never usually use and noticed a medallion of Virgin Mary on the ground. She took it as a sign that she was to use Mary in her energy healing work this morning. She put the Virgin Mary medallion in her glasses case for safe keeping. When she got to Steveston, she sat in her car for a moment and took out her glass case. It was a cloudy rainy day today - no sunshine. There was a blue light shining across her glass case. She asked Virgin Mary for her help in the Reiki sessions she did. Everyone expressed that their session was great. Mary felt great. She is still relishing the moment. I felt a healing shift ah ha, in myself in hearing her story. And we realized that - Something that someone had lost was instrumental for her. It made us both feel freer, knowing that we can now let things go more easily if we lose something. There is a bigger purpose - bigger picture. The healing continues.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
BACK FROM THE TRIP TO HELL AND BACK
BACK FROM THE TRIP TO HELL AND BACK
The trip started out like any other, there was excitement in the air, preparations to be made and packing to be done.
Finally the day arrived. Everything in place, we were ready to go. We left in plenty of time for the 2 hour drive to the Vancouver Airport, giving ourselves plenty of time for the check-in and to go through security. The drive down the Sea to Sky highway was busier than usual for a Sunday, with some unexpected construction delays. Good thing we had left early.
Nearing the Lions Bay area, we discovered that we had forgotten our tickets. We had been on the road for 45 minutes by then, what with the delays and all. Thinking we had plenty of time to spare, we made the decision to head back. Lucky we did, because sitting there with our tickets was the envelope with our passports and vaccination forms.
We set off again. The drive was smooth sailing this time with no delays. Things were falling into place, or so we thought. We made good time and got to the Lions Bay area in ½ hour. We drove past Horseshoe Bay, easily cruising along the Upper Narrows highway towards West and North Vancouver, still confident that we would make it to the airport in plenty of time. Just then we were pulled over at a roadside radar check. We had been clocked doing 117 in a 90 km/hr zone. 10 minutes ticked by while the policemen checked us out in his computer and wrote us out a speeding ticket.
Out on the road again, we continued on our way. We took the Lonsdale exit heading towards the Lions Gate bridge. The roads were congested and the going was slow for a Sunday. The reason was clear as we listened to the news on the radio. The streets were blocked off in downtown Vancouver for the annual Labor Day rally.
Needless to say our confidence was turning into anxiety as we crawled across the Lions Gate bridge and through downtown Vancouver. No time to stop for a bathroom break, we continued on down south Granville and over the Arthur Lang bridge, the airport now in sight. We hurriedly said our goodbyes as we got dropped off at the departures level. After a much needed bathroom break, we made our way to the check-in line, only to discover 10 minutes later that we were in the wrong terminal. We needed the International departures which was a 10 minute walk. We made it in 5 with the help of a ride on a golf cart.
The ticket agent informed us that we needed to go directly to our gate as quickly as we could. The line up for the security check was quite long, so we asked one of the workers if we could go ahead of others as we were in a hurry. We don’t know if that was what triggered them to do a more thorough search of our hand luggage, further detaining us. We finally arrived at the departure gate happy to see it still full. We had made it. We had a seat, grateful for a much needed rest.
And this is when the trip from Hell and back really began. A few minutes later we heard the announcement that the flight from Vancouver to Baltimore via Chicago had been delayed. It was 2 hours later that we were allowed to board, where we all sat for another hour waiting, no air conditioning, no food and no water. Then we were all herded off the plane again and had to go to another departure gate, where we sat for another ½ hour before boarding another plane. Finally with a loud cheer, we were in the air heading for Chicago. The rest of the flight was uneventful.
We had missed our connecting flight to Baltimore and had another 2 hours wait at the boarding gate for the next flight. No chance to leave the security area. Arriving at the Baltimore – Washington International airport, we retrieved our luggage and zipped through customs and immigrations.
We were excited to see the family members that were there to pick us up. After a much needed bathroom break, we started off on the hour drive to our nieces home.
Monday morning, I was feeling sick. Tuesday I was feeling worse, luckily no one noticed. Wednesday and Thursday, I was still feeling lousy but determined to have a good time with the family. Friday was much the same. Saturday and Sunday was hell. I just wanted to be home in my own bed.
Still feeling lousy, Monday was our flight back to Vancouver via Chicago. Our niece dropped us off at 8 a.m. for our 10:30 flight. Luggage checked in, successfully through security and sitting at the boarding gate, we heard the announcement that the flight had been cancelled. Nothing we could do but wait around. The next flight was 3:30 p.m. which ended up being cancelled also. We were told that the next flight wasn’t until the next morning at 8 a.m. After being told that we would have to wait overnight at the airport, we eventually got them to get us a hotel room. We were told that the hotel bus would pick us up and to wait by the door. 2 hours later the bus arrived and took us – no luggage, as the airline couldn’t find it, to the hotel. It was now 10 p.m.
We got the bus back to the Baltimore – Washington airport at 6a.m. to be told that the 8a.m. flight was an hour late. Finally got on the flight to Chicago and made the connection to Vancouver on time, a 6 hour flight.
After 31 hours from Monday morning to Tuesday night when we landed in Vancouver, it was now grossly obvious to everyone that I was really sick and I was put into quarantine for 48 hours where I was treated for a bladder infection and dehydration.
The humane society investigated my owners to determine if I should be removed from their care. It was determined that the long waits without bathroom breaks caused the bladder infection and that the flight delays and circumstances were beyond my owner’s control. I was eventually reunited with my owners and finally got to sleep in my own bed again.
By Lynn Keeling April 8, 2009
The trip started out like any other, there was excitement in the air, preparations to be made and packing to be done.
Finally the day arrived. Everything in place, we were ready to go. We left in plenty of time for the 2 hour drive to the Vancouver Airport, giving ourselves plenty of time for the check-in and to go through security. The drive down the Sea to Sky highway was busier than usual for a Sunday, with some unexpected construction delays. Good thing we had left early.
Nearing the Lions Bay area, we discovered that we had forgotten our tickets. We had been on the road for 45 minutes by then, what with the delays and all. Thinking we had plenty of time to spare, we made the decision to head back. Lucky we did, because sitting there with our tickets was the envelope with our passports and vaccination forms.
We set off again. The drive was smooth sailing this time with no delays. Things were falling into place, or so we thought. We made good time and got to the Lions Bay area in ½ hour. We drove past Horseshoe Bay, easily cruising along the Upper Narrows highway towards West and North Vancouver, still confident that we would make it to the airport in plenty of time. Just then we were pulled over at a roadside radar check. We had been clocked doing 117 in a 90 km/hr zone. 10 minutes ticked by while the policemen checked us out in his computer and wrote us out a speeding ticket.
Out on the road again, we continued on our way. We took the Lonsdale exit heading towards the Lions Gate bridge. The roads were congested and the going was slow for a Sunday. The reason was clear as we listened to the news on the radio. The streets were blocked off in downtown Vancouver for the annual Labor Day rally.
Needless to say our confidence was turning into anxiety as we crawled across the Lions Gate bridge and through downtown Vancouver. No time to stop for a bathroom break, we continued on down south Granville and over the Arthur Lang bridge, the airport now in sight. We hurriedly said our goodbyes as we got dropped off at the departures level. After a much needed bathroom break, we made our way to the check-in line, only to discover 10 minutes later that we were in the wrong terminal. We needed the International departures which was a 10 minute walk. We made it in 5 with the help of a ride on a golf cart.
The ticket agent informed us that we needed to go directly to our gate as quickly as we could. The line up for the security check was quite long, so we asked one of the workers if we could go ahead of others as we were in a hurry. We don’t know if that was what triggered them to do a more thorough search of our hand luggage, further detaining us. We finally arrived at the departure gate happy to see it still full. We had made it. We had a seat, grateful for a much needed rest.
And this is when the trip from Hell and back really began. A few minutes later we heard the announcement that the flight from Vancouver to Baltimore via Chicago had been delayed. It was 2 hours later that we were allowed to board, where we all sat for another hour waiting, no air conditioning, no food and no water. Then we were all herded off the plane again and had to go to another departure gate, where we sat for another ½ hour before boarding another plane. Finally with a loud cheer, we were in the air heading for Chicago. The rest of the flight was uneventful.
We had missed our connecting flight to Baltimore and had another 2 hours wait at the boarding gate for the next flight. No chance to leave the security area. Arriving at the Baltimore – Washington International airport, we retrieved our luggage and zipped through customs and immigrations.
We were excited to see the family members that were there to pick us up. After a much needed bathroom break, we started off on the hour drive to our nieces home.
Monday morning, I was feeling sick. Tuesday I was feeling worse, luckily no one noticed. Wednesday and Thursday, I was still feeling lousy but determined to have a good time with the family. Friday was much the same. Saturday and Sunday was hell. I just wanted to be home in my own bed.
Still feeling lousy, Monday was our flight back to Vancouver via Chicago. Our niece dropped us off at 8 a.m. for our 10:30 flight. Luggage checked in, successfully through security and sitting at the boarding gate, we heard the announcement that the flight had been cancelled. Nothing we could do but wait around. The next flight was 3:30 p.m. which ended up being cancelled also. We were told that the next flight wasn’t until the next morning at 8 a.m. After being told that we would have to wait overnight at the airport, we eventually got them to get us a hotel room. We were told that the hotel bus would pick us up and to wait by the door. 2 hours later the bus arrived and took us – no luggage, as the airline couldn’t find it, to the hotel. It was now 10 p.m.
We got the bus back to the Baltimore – Washington airport at 6a.m. to be told that the 8a.m. flight was an hour late. Finally got on the flight to Chicago and made the connection to Vancouver on time, a 6 hour flight.
After 31 hours from Monday morning to Tuesday night when we landed in Vancouver, it was now grossly obvious to everyone that I was really sick and I was put into quarantine for 48 hours where I was treated for a bladder infection and dehydration.
The humane society investigated my owners to determine if I should be removed from their care. It was determined that the long waits without bathroom breaks caused the bladder infection and that the flight delays and circumstances were beyond my owner’s control. I was eventually reunited with my owners and finally got to sleep in my own bed again.
By Lynn Keeling April 8, 2009
Sunday, April 05, 2009
ALIGHT / After 13 Years
One hidden assumption to the word “alight” is that there is a downward moving forward movement from above. There is also a sense that when you “alight” that you “alight” onto a more stable surface.
As in “the girl ‘alights’ from the bus”. We automatically have the picture of the girl stepping down the precarious steps of the bus, down onto the pavement of the stable surface of the road. When is it exactly that the “alighting” has taken place? Is it the entire process of stepping down each step or when she lands on the pavement?
The same is true for the bird that takes a rest on the swaying branch of the huge Oak tree. He is in the air flying forward as he gently “alights” on a branch from above, even if his journey starts from the ground below where he last “alit” for he has to be above the branch to “alight” on it.
“Alight” is a movie picture word. Our imagination sees the entire scene of the action of “alighting”. We feel the movement of the “alighting” as we settle into the relief of the safe arrival of going from point A to point B. “Alighting” also provides us with a moment of rest before our journey moves us on.
AFTER 13 YEARS
Jessie ‘alighted’ from the abusive relationship with nowhere to go. She had had enough, the last straw was broken. So when Rocky stopped in Keremeos for gas, grabbing her purse, she ‘alighted’ from the car and made her escape.
Standing in the pay phone booth ready to dial 911 if need be, she repeatedly told Rocky that she was not getting back into the car. After much screaming, threatening, pleading and hollow promises now so familiar, he finally drove off, leaving Jessie behind.
“Now what”? Jessie wondered. Rifling through the phone book, she found the address for the Greyhound Bus station. She hunted for the phone number of the local crisis line which turned out to be a long distance number – no help there.
Planning to catch the next bus no matter where it was going, Jessie walked back into town easily finding the bus station. The next bus wasn’t due until morning and it was heading to Vancouver.
After buying a toothbrush and toothpaste, Jessie checked into the downtown hotel for the night. After watching TV for awhile, tucked in, feeling safe and secure, she eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Back at the bus station the next morning, she purchased a ticket to Langley, where Rocky and she lived. Once there she would decide what to do.
The bus pulled up to the Langley bus depot and Jessie “alighted” from the bus. She entered the bus station and entered the Ladies room. A few minutes later she “alighted” from the bus stations front door. It was then that she saw their car parked in the bus stations parking lot. Rocky was no where in sight. So she jumped into the car and drove away, watching in the rear view mirror, but Rocky was nowhere to be seen.
Calculating that she had a window of opportunity she drove to the basement suite that they rented to fill the car with as much of her belongings as she could in the few minutes she had.
As she walked in, she noticed that her suitcase was unpacked and everything was put away. There were notes all around telling her of phone messages. Everything was neat and tidy like nothing had happened. She wondered where Rocky was and why the car was parked at the bus station.
No time to lose, she threw things in garbage bags and filled the car. A few minutes later “alighting” from the house for what would be the last time, she drove off not knowing where to go, just wanting to get as far away as possible.
A light had finally come on, and she knew that this relationship was finally over.
By Lynn Keeling April 5/09
As in “the girl ‘alights’ from the bus”. We automatically have the picture of the girl stepping down the precarious steps of the bus, down onto the pavement of the stable surface of the road. When is it exactly that the “alighting” has taken place? Is it the entire process of stepping down each step or when she lands on the pavement?
The same is true for the bird that takes a rest on the swaying branch of the huge Oak tree. He is in the air flying forward as he gently “alights” on a branch from above, even if his journey starts from the ground below where he last “alit” for he has to be above the branch to “alight” on it.
“Alight” is a movie picture word. Our imagination sees the entire scene of the action of “alighting”. We feel the movement of the “alighting” as we settle into the relief of the safe arrival of going from point A to point B. “Alighting” also provides us with a moment of rest before our journey moves us on.
AFTER 13 YEARS
Jessie ‘alighted’ from the abusive relationship with nowhere to go. She had had enough, the last straw was broken. So when Rocky stopped in Keremeos for gas, grabbing her purse, she ‘alighted’ from the car and made her escape.
Standing in the pay phone booth ready to dial 911 if need be, she repeatedly told Rocky that she was not getting back into the car. After much screaming, threatening, pleading and hollow promises now so familiar, he finally drove off, leaving Jessie behind.
“Now what”? Jessie wondered. Rifling through the phone book, she found the address for the Greyhound Bus station. She hunted for the phone number of the local crisis line which turned out to be a long distance number – no help there.
Planning to catch the next bus no matter where it was going, Jessie walked back into town easily finding the bus station. The next bus wasn’t due until morning and it was heading to Vancouver.
After buying a toothbrush and toothpaste, Jessie checked into the downtown hotel for the night. After watching TV for awhile, tucked in, feeling safe and secure, she eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Back at the bus station the next morning, she purchased a ticket to Langley, where Rocky and she lived. Once there she would decide what to do.
The bus pulled up to the Langley bus depot and Jessie “alighted” from the bus. She entered the bus station and entered the Ladies room. A few minutes later she “alighted” from the bus stations front door. It was then that she saw their car parked in the bus stations parking lot. Rocky was no where in sight. So she jumped into the car and drove away, watching in the rear view mirror, but Rocky was nowhere to be seen.
Calculating that she had a window of opportunity she drove to the basement suite that they rented to fill the car with as much of her belongings as she could in the few minutes she had.
As she walked in, she noticed that her suitcase was unpacked and everything was put away. There were notes all around telling her of phone messages. Everything was neat and tidy like nothing had happened. She wondered where Rocky was and why the car was parked at the bus station.
No time to lose, she threw things in garbage bags and filled the car. A few minutes later “alighting” from the house for what would be the last time, she drove off not knowing where to go, just wanting to get as far away as possible.
A light had finally come on, and she knew that this relationship was finally over.
By Lynn Keeling April 5/09
Saturday, April 04, 2009
MEDORA, ND TRIP
We left Richmond where we lived and were leisurely driving in our camper van, to Ottawa, Ont., to attend the wedding of the daughter of a long time friend of Ralph’s. Along the way we stopped to visit my mom and relatives in Calgary, Alberta and dear friends of mine in Lumsden, Sask. From there, Donalee and Chuck suggested that we head north a few miles and take a more scenic route east. Anything would be better than driving the Trans Canada Hwy through Saskatchewan. This route turned out to be one of many highlights of the trip that shines brightly in our memories. Rounding the bend as we were driving along a huge lake, we saw a flock of pelicans swimming in the water. Next was an old Anglican granite stone church and native Indian residential school that was extremely impressive. It was time to stop for a coffee and ‘bio break’ and we found this little fishing village, a street with 3 or 4 buildings really, one of them a coffee shop. As we sat there we eavesdropped on the locals delightful conversations. It must have been memorable, because it is usually the food that I talk about. Eventually Hwy 22 joins up with the Trans Canada east of Regina. We highly recommend this detour, as it really did transform our image of the province of Sask.
Somewhere along the line we dipped down into the United States. We stopped at a road side fruit stand and feasted on the most mouth watering juicy strawberries we have ever found. Driving along the south side of the St. Lawrence River, we drove though a hail storm of giant mosquito’s. It was time to stop for the night, so at the next town we asked around for a place to eat. We were directed to a coffee shop on the main street, where Ralph ordered the fish special. It was a gourmet dish that would have been served at the finest of restaurants and I only wished that I had ordered the same.
The campsite we found that night was a scenic location on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. The place was swarming with mosquito’s so we stayed put inside, grateful for the screens on our windows. In the morning we checked out and took pictures of the front of our van. It was covered with mosquito’s, dead of course.
Back into Canada, arriving at Art and Mary’s in Ottawa to help with the preparations for the upcoming wedding. This was the first time I was meeting this wonderful couple that made me feel so welcome as they put me right to work. Mary, a talented crafty person, soon learned that I had no talent in making bows even with a bow making gadget. The reception was held on the front lawn of their house. The garage was transformed into the buffet and bar area. It was a truly remarkable event with neighbors walking by to check it all out. Art and Mary have since moved back to Surrey, BC and remain great friends.
But my story is about the town of Medora, ND, which we magically discovered on our way back home from Ottawa. We were to stop in at my mom’s in Calgary again, to meet up with my Vancouver friends, Fred and Joan, to enjoy the Calgary Stampede. We had dropped down into the States traveling west on highway 28, then highway 2. Looking at the map one day, I got the idea that we should detour south to see Mt. Rushmore. Ralph was insisting that we needed to get to Calgary. Our next check in phone call to my mom, I ran the idea by her. She was all for it and even suggested that we go to see Old Faithful too! I handed the phone to Ralph and she talked him into it.
We took highway 83 south from Minot. ND, then west on interstate 94 at Bismark. The next turn would be highway 85 heading south. Being that it was 4:30 and time to find a place to camp overnight, we decided to go a few miles further than the turn off to the town of Medora. It was a quaint little place. We had supper at a burger joint. The owner asked us if we were going to the amphitheatre! We thought that would be fun, expecting a park ranger giving a talk around a campfire somewhere. So off we went, following his directions – over the railway tracks turning right and going up the hill.
What we saw at the top of the hill was a parking lot with what looked like about 50 tour busses, a 100 RV’s, and a thousand cars or more. There was a tall fence blocking the view of what was to come. We bought our tickets at one of many ticket booth’s and our adventure continued. Ralph was using a cane at the time and along came a golf cart to shuttle him inside. I meet up with him again at the elevator. Then we went on an escalator to get to our seats in this gigantic outdoor amphitheatre built on the hillside of the Black Hills. It was a clear warm night with the stars and the moon decorating the sky. In front of us was a huge stage with buildings on rails that were moved into place during the production. Imagine seeing 3 horses galloping full tilt from the back of the stage to the front, their riders carrying flags from ND, USA, and Canada. National anthems sung and the show begins. It was a musical production with 3 scenes. Between each scene there was entertainment – a comedian, a juggler and a comedy magic act. It was a magnificent evening and we often recommend Medora as a holiday destination point.
Our discoveries continued the next day as we took a horse drawn carriage ride around the town. The tree in the middle of the main street is said to be a ‘hanging tree’. And there were stories of Teddy Roosevelt and his cattle ranch.
We continued on to Mount Rushmore where there was a bus load of teens getting their picture taken by a boy sitting with a pile of camera’s on his left and one by one he would pick one up, take a picture and set it down to his right. It was hilariously funny to watch. We looked at Crazy Horse from afar. Found a wonderful park area with a waterfall and got involved with a missing boy drama. Just as the police arrived, the boy jumped out of a car that had picked him up on the road at the top of the hill that he had climbed up. Needless to say, we were all relieved to see him. The search and rescue group that was on their way were not needed after all.
We parked overnight in a town parking lot in Deadwood, SD, a small western town with casino’s. The next morning we had a ticket on our windshield saying “welcome to Deadwood City. Please use the RV campsite tonight” no fine involved. Then one morning as we were waking up in Sheridan, Wyoming, I heard something about a pancake breakfast and bed races on the local radio station. So off we went to check it out. There was also a parade down the main street. We were told to go to the world famous Kings Saddle and museum tack shop on main street There were pictures of Queen Elizabeth shopping there and many old carriages and stage coaches and more.
We got to see Old Faithful and Yellowstone National Park, then we headed north to Calgary on Highway 89. Again we detoured around to take the scenic route from west to east though the Glacier National Park. Eventually making our way north into Canada and arriving in Calgary to enjoy the Calgary Stampede with Fred and Joan who had already arrived and were staying at my mom’s.
I remember seeing a beautiful lightning storm off to the west as we drove between Lethbridge and Calgary. I also remember wondering why we were passing so many cars. It wasn’t until we were caravanning home with Fred and Joan and Fred came on the CB asking us why we were going so fast! Our speedometer was screwy. We had been speeding the entire trip and maybe ever since the transmission got repaired in Branson on a previous trip where a SAE gear was used instead of a metric gear. We were traveling in miles per hour instead of kilometers per hour. So for the next few miles we would check in with Fred to find out what speed we were going.
There were many other wonderful memorable ‘being in the right place at the right time’ adventures along the way. I am now sitting here wondering if we had been traveling the speed limit, would we have missed some of those wonderful experiences that we had.
We had many more wonderful side trips on this most magnificent holiday travel adventure as we headed back home with Fred and Joan.
By Lynn Keeling
April 4, 2009
Somewhere along the line we dipped down into the United States. We stopped at a road side fruit stand and feasted on the most mouth watering juicy strawberries we have ever found. Driving along the south side of the St. Lawrence River, we drove though a hail storm of giant mosquito’s. It was time to stop for the night, so at the next town we asked around for a place to eat. We were directed to a coffee shop on the main street, where Ralph ordered the fish special. It was a gourmet dish that would have been served at the finest of restaurants and I only wished that I had ordered the same.
The campsite we found that night was a scenic location on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. The place was swarming with mosquito’s so we stayed put inside, grateful for the screens on our windows. In the morning we checked out and took pictures of the front of our van. It was covered with mosquito’s, dead of course.
Back into Canada, arriving at Art and Mary’s in Ottawa to help with the preparations for the upcoming wedding. This was the first time I was meeting this wonderful couple that made me feel so welcome as they put me right to work. Mary, a talented crafty person, soon learned that I had no talent in making bows even with a bow making gadget. The reception was held on the front lawn of their house. The garage was transformed into the buffet and bar area. It was a truly remarkable event with neighbors walking by to check it all out. Art and Mary have since moved back to Surrey, BC and remain great friends.
But my story is about the town of Medora, ND, which we magically discovered on our way back home from Ottawa. We were to stop in at my mom’s in Calgary again, to meet up with my Vancouver friends, Fred and Joan, to enjoy the Calgary Stampede. We had dropped down into the States traveling west on highway 28, then highway 2. Looking at the map one day, I got the idea that we should detour south to see Mt. Rushmore. Ralph was insisting that we needed to get to Calgary. Our next check in phone call to my mom, I ran the idea by her. She was all for it and even suggested that we go to see Old Faithful too! I handed the phone to Ralph and she talked him into it.
We took highway 83 south from Minot. ND, then west on interstate 94 at Bismark. The next turn would be highway 85 heading south. Being that it was 4:30 and time to find a place to camp overnight, we decided to go a few miles further than the turn off to the town of Medora. It was a quaint little place. We had supper at a burger joint. The owner asked us if we were going to the amphitheatre! We thought that would be fun, expecting a park ranger giving a talk around a campfire somewhere. So off we went, following his directions – over the railway tracks turning right and going up the hill.
What we saw at the top of the hill was a parking lot with what looked like about 50 tour busses, a 100 RV’s, and a thousand cars or more. There was a tall fence blocking the view of what was to come. We bought our tickets at one of many ticket booth’s and our adventure continued. Ralph was using a cane at the time and along came a golf cart to shuttle him inside. I meet up with him again at the elevator. Then we went on an escalator to get to our seats in this gigantic outdoor amphitheatre built on the hillside of the Black Hills. It was a clear warm night with the stars and the moon decorating the sky. In front of us was a huge stage with buildings on rails that were moved into place during the production. Imagine seeing 3 horses galloping full tilt from the back of the stage to the front, their riders carrying flags from ND, USA, and Canada. National anthems sung and the show begins. It was a musical production with 3 scenes. Between each scene there was entertainment – a comedian, a juggler and a comedy magic act. It was a magnificent evening and we often recommend Medora as a holiday destination point.
Our discoveries continued the next day as we took a horse drawn carriage ride around the town. The tree in the middle of the main street is said to be a ‘hanging tree’. And there were stories of Teddy Roosevelt and his cattle ranch.
We continued on to Mount Rushmore where there was a bus load of teens getting their picture taken by a boy sitting with a pile of camera’s on his left and one by one he would pick one up, take a picture and set it down to his right. It was hilariously funny to watch. We looked at Crazy Horse from afar. Found a wonderful park area with a waterfall and got involved with a missing boy drama. Just as the police arrived, the boy jumped out of a car that had picked him up on the road at the top of the hill that he had climbed up. Needless to say, we were all relieved to see him. The search and rescue group that was on their way were not needed after all.
We parked overnight in a town parking lot in Deadwood, SD, a small western town with casino’s. The next morning we had a ticket on our windshield saying “welcome to Deadwood City. Please use the RV campsite tonight” no fine involved. Then one morning as we were waking up in Sheridan, Wyoming, I heard something about a pancake breakfast and bed races on the local radio station. So off we went to check it out. There was also a parade down the main street. We were told to go to the world famous Kings Saddle and museum tack shop on main street There were pictures of Queen Elizabeth shopping there and many old carriages and stage coaches and more.
We got to see Old Faithful and Yellowstone National Park, then we headed north to Calgary on Highway 89. Again we detoured around to take the scenic route from west to east though the Glacier National Park. Eventually making our way north into Canada and arriving in Calgary to enjoy the Calgary Stampede with Fred and Joan who had already arrived and were staying at my mom’s.
I remember seeing a beautiful lightning storm off to the west as we drove between Lethbridge and Calgary. I also remember wondering why we were passing so many cars. It wasn’t until we were caravanning home with Fred and Joan and Fred came on the CB asking us why we were going so fast! Our speedometer was screwy. We had been speeding the entire trip and maybe ever since the transmission got repaired in Branson on a previous trip where a SAE gear was used instead of a metric gear. We were traveling in miles per hour instead of kilometers per hour. So for the next few miles we would check in with Fred to find out what speed we were going.
There were many other wonderful memorable ‘being in the right place at the right time’ adventures along the way. I am now sitting here wondering if we had been traveling the speed limit, would we have missed some of those wonderful experiences that we had.
We had many more wonderful side trips on this most magnificent holiday travel adventure as we headed back home with Fred and Joan.
By Lynn Keeling
April 4, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
MUSIC JAM SESSION
Ahhh! The memories. Years ago, my husband, Ralph and I used a complimentary camp for 3 night’s free coupon for the Thousand Trails resort at Mt. Vernon. We were impressed and eventually bought a membership for the Thousand Trails system. There is one campsite in Canada at Cultus Lake. The other 60 odd RV resorts are mainly in the eastern and western coastal states. Resorts are also in Las Vegas, Sedona, AZ area, and a few in Texas. Membership also includes opportunities to add on memberships for other camping and resort systems.
Our membership allows us to stay at a resort for up to 2 weeks, and then we move on to the next resort for another 2 weeks and then sometimes return to the previous resort for another 2 weeks and so on. We spend months traveling in the system most winters and enjoy the WA and BC campsites the rest of the year. La Conner and Mt Vernon are both great locations to stay at in April to see the Daffodil fields and for the Tulip festival and again in mid August when we go to the Northwest WA state fair in Lynden.
Each RV park is different and unique. They all have family and adult lodges with satellite TV, pool tables, and food service. Scheduled activities run by the recreation director’s vary from park to park. Some locations are famous for their weekly “Bunco” games or their weekly “Candy Bar Bingo”or the weekly cinnamon buns. Each park has a specific memory linked to it, so when someone asks me which park is my favorite – my answer is always, “that’s depends.” Wilderness Lakes in CA for food service and candy bar bingo. San Benito in CA for bunco. Palm Springs, Wilderness and Pio Pico in CA for their pool rooms. Rancho Oso in CA for their working ranch with horseback riding. Seaside OR for the indoor swimming pool and Soledad, Morgan Hill, San Benito and Palm Springs in CA, Mt Vernon, Thunderbird in WA and many others for their swimming pools. La Conner in WA for their location – they don’t have a swimming pool, but you couldn’t pay a million dollars for a better view while sitting in the hot tub at sunset looking out at the islands on the ocean. And there is the yummy cinnamon buns at Camp Verde AZ.
And Palm Springs wins hands down when it comes to the weekly music jam sessions. Over the years we have been entertained by professionals as well as other talented campers. One of the regulars, Jimmy, has worked with the Ink Spots and many other stars and has many insider stories that he has amused us with over the years. One involved a song writer wanting a singer to record their song. The story was about how the record came to be. Apparently the singer would not even look at the song, so the song writer got the music to him by dropping it onto the singer’s property from a helicopter. And that is why the hit song got recorded. I just wish I could remember the names involved. Just know that it is a well known hit song and artist, I think the singer was Chris Christopherson.
Pio Pico in CA has an annual talent show. One year we were entertained by a concert pianist practicing as we enjoyed the Saturday morning pancake breakfast.
One year at La Conner, the lady that organized the weekly music jam session played an electronic keyboard. One night there was a man that played violin and another man that played trumpet. The orchestra sounds from the keyboard did not allow the others to really let go and get into what I consider “music jamming”. At the end of the session, while the lady with the keyboard was packing up, I encouraged the other 2 to give us a tune or 2, giving them an opportunity to really “jam”. Much to my dismay, the keyboard lady, started to unpack her keyboard to join in. Although she was very good, I think we all missed an experience of a true pure musical jam session.
Our membership allows us to stay at a resort for up to 2 weeks, and then we move on to the next resort for another 2 weeks and then sometimes return to the previous resort for another 2 weeks and so on. We spend months traveling in the system most winters and enjoy the WA and BC campsites the rest of the year. La Conner and Mt Vernon are both great locations to stay at in April to see the Daffodil fields and for the Tulip festival and again in mid August when we go to the Northwest WA state fair in Lynden.
Each RV park is different and unique. They all have family and adult lodges with satellite TV, pool tables, and food service. Scheduled activities run by the recreation director’s vary from park to park. Some locations are famous for their weekly “Bunco” games or their weekly “Candy Bar Bingo”or the weekly cinnamon buns. Each park has a specific memory linked to it, so when someone asks me which park is my favorite – my answer is always, “that’s depends.” Wilderness Lakes in CA for food service and candy bar bingo. San Benito in CA for bunco. Palm Springs, Wilderness and Pio Pico in CA for their pool rooms. Rancho Oso in CA for their working ranch with horseback riding. Seaside OR for the indoor swimming pool and Soledad, Morgan Hill, San Benito and Palm Springs in CA, Mt Vernon, Thunderbird in WA and many others for their swimming pools. La Conner in WA for their location – they don’t have a swimming pool, but you couldn’t pay a million dollars for a better view while sitting in the hot tub at sunset looking out at the islands on the ocean. And there is the yummy cinnamon buns at Camp Verde AZ.
And Palm Springs wins hands down when it comes to the weekly music jam sessions. Over the years we have been entertained by professionals as well as other talented campers. One of the regulars, Jimmy, has worked with the Ink Spots and many other stars and has many insider stories that he has amused us with over the years. One involved a song writer wanting a singer to record their song. The story was about how the record came to be. Apparently the singer would not even look at the song, so the song writer got the music to him by dropping it onto the singer’s property from a helicopter. And that is why the hit song got recorded. I just wish I could remember the names involved. Just know that it is a well known hit song and artist, I think the singer was Chris Christopherson.
Pio Pico in CA has an annual talent show. One year we were entertained by a concert pianist practicing as we enjoyed the Saturday morning pancake breakfast.
One year at La Conner, the lady that organized the weekly music jam session played an electronic keyboard. One night there was a man that played violin and another man that played trumpet. The orchestra sounds from the keyboard did not allow the others to really let go and get into what I consider “music jamming”. At the end of the session, while the lady with the keyboard was packing up, I encouraged the other 2 to give us a tune or 2, giving them an opportunity to really “jam”. Much to my dismay, the keyboard lady, started to unpack her keyboard to join in. Although she was very good, I think we all missed an experience of a true pure musical jam session.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
SHARING MY CANCER STORY
My cervical cancer story is about my personal growth being accelerated and the tools that became available to me on my life’s journey.
Life was great. I had finally left an unhealthy codependent relationship. That “drama” led me to a transition house, that led me to the Unity Church, where I met my soulmate. Miracles were happening in my life. I was in the right place at the right time – in the flow. A beautiful flower, growing and blossoming.
In September 1992, at age 42, the life threatening “drama” of an emergency hysterectomy and cervical cancer diagnosis led me to the Vancouver Cancer Clinic (B.C., Canada) for radiation treatments. All the while feeling that I was in good hands and in the right place, at the right time. During my 1st appointment at the cancer clinic, I asked my doctor about her views and the clinic’s views on alternative therapies. She handed me a pamphlet about the Relaxation Program run by the clinic.
The Relaxation Group meets 3 times a week for an experiential meditation. First, we sit in a circle and introduce ourselves and ask for an image that we would like included in the meditation. Then we go to the mats with bolsters for under our knees, pillows, blankets and even little “eye pillows” to put over our eyes. The groups facilitators (clinic staff) talk us through a 45 minute meditation using the images offered from the circle with music playing and “foot strokers” lightly stroking legs, feet, shoulders and brows. The deluxe version is to have live music played by the clinic’s music therapist. Afterwards, many of us network together in the cafeteria. This is where I got a lot of my questions answered, sometimes when I didn’t even know there was a question to ask. There is also a theory – talk about - class on meditation and coping techniques and tools. I found my dream had come true – a medical institution incorporating complementary therapies with medicine, working together to treat the “whole” me.
The Relaxation Group continues to be my “lifesaver”. It gave me a reason to travel to the clinic every day for a 10 minute radiation treatment. I remember on Thursday, about ½ way through my 30 treatments, when I woke up feeling scared, frustrated, angry, sad, alone…. I didn’t want any more radiation. If it hadn’t been for the Relaxation Group that day – I am not sure what I would have done.
The Relaxation Group is full of life, love, caring, understanding, acceptance and more. A place where I can be me, where I can feel and express my emotions, laugh and cry. A place where people listen and hear what I am saying. A very powerful nurturing, peaceful, healing place to be.
I take advantage of the many “tools” the clinic offers patients, families and friends. These include support groups, music and art therapy counseling, social worker counselors, volunteer driver’s service, and Therapeutic Touch workshops and sessions.
All the “tools” helped me again when my radiation treatments finished. While going for radiation, it was okay to go to the Relaxation Group because I was there anyway. Now the only reason for me to go to the Relaxation Group was to do something nice for me. Being a caregiver type, that was hard to do. With all the personal growth work I had done, I was aware of that sabotaging part of me and would find ways to sabotage the sabotaging. Like that 1st Thursday morning after treatment had finished, that I talked myself out of going to the Relaxation Group. “What if someone else needs the chair?” “I’m not good enough.” “I don’t deserve it.” “I’m too tired.” When I did get up, I called the volunteer drivers and booked a ride for the Monday morning Relaxation Group. I had just about talked myself into staying home again on Monday when I remembered the volunteer driver was picking me up. I also called on friends to meet me at the clinic – so then I had to go. I also realized that although I could go back to work physically, mentally and emotionally I didn’t want to and that was okay. I ended up taking a year for me and gradually fell back into my job. I am grateful to my boss for being patient and giving me the time and space that I needed.
Two years ago, I again took time off work for another life “drama” involving the death of my brother. After this, with my husband about to retire, I decided to “let go” of my job also. Again I have the Relaxation Group to thank for helping me though this period of losses.
I now spend 2 to 3 days a week “foot stroking” at the Relaxation Groups and visiting other patients and their families – talking, listening, and doing and teaching Therapeutic Touch – helping others on their journey.
For the last few months, I’ve been having the same feelings that I experienced when I was getting close to the end of the radiation treatments – sadness, loneliness, anxiety, abandonment, fear, etc. I was aware that this time it had to do with the 5 year anniversary approaching. These milestones are not always a happy celebrating time for everyone. We are all different, with different issues to deal with. At my last 6 month check up, when my doctor said that my next appointment would be my last, I was pleasantly surprised and pleased when my reaction was one of happiness and celebration. The Relaxation Group came through for me again – giving me balance, support, clarity and the courage to deal with my feelings.
My life has been touched by many “teachers” along the way. I continue to learn and relearn many of life’s lessons:
- changing “shoulds” to “coulds”. A choice – no guilt attached.
- the definition of “normal” is a setting on the washing machine.
- to be a “human being” not a “human doing”.
- get out of the way. Stop trying , start trusting.
- trusting my intuition. Listening to my “knowing”
- smiling at myself. Being patient with myself.
- to sabotage the sabotaging.
- I’m not stupid, dumb, …. I did a stupid, dumb,….thing.
- angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
- waking up to awareness.
- living in the moment
Tomorrow is tomorrow, yesterday is the past.
Today is a gift, that’s why they call it the “present”.
From one flower to another. May you blossom and grow to your full potential and become the beautiful you, you were created to be. I trust that my story touches and helps you on your journey. Thank you for listening.
By Lynn Keeling ( written in 1997 / submitted in March 2009 )
Life was great. I had finally left an unhealthy codependent relationship. That “drama” led me to a transition house, that led me to the Unity Church, where I met my soulmate. Miracles were happening in my life. I was in the right place at the right time – in the flow. A beautiful flower, growing and blossoming.
In September 1992, at age 42, the life threatening “drama” of an emergency hysterectomy and cervical cancer diagnosis led me to the Vancouver Cancer Clinic (B.C., Canada) for radiation treatments. All the while feeling that I was in good hands and in the right place, at the right time. During my 1st appointment at the cancer clinic, I asked my doctor about her views and the clinic’s views on alternative therapies. She handed me a pamphlet about the Relaxation Program run by the clinic.
The Relaxation Group meets 3 times a week for an experiential meditation. First, we sit in a circle and introduce ourselves and ask for an image that we would like included in the meditation. Then we go to the mats with bolsters for under our knees, pillows, blankets and even little “eye pillows” to put over our eyes. The groups facilitators (clinic staff) talk us through a 45 minute meditation using the images offered from the circle with music playing and “foot strokers” lightly stroking legs, feet, shoulders and brows. The deluxe version is to have live music played by the clinic’s music therapist. Afterwards, many of us network together in the cafeteria. This is where I got a lot of my questions answered, sometimes when I didn’t even know there was a question to ask. There is also a theory – talk about - class on meditation and coping techniques and tools. I found my dream had come true – a medical institution incorporating complementary therapies with medicine, working together to treat the “whole” me.
The Relaxation Group continues to be my “lifesaver”. It gave me a reason to travel to the clinic every day for a 10 minute radiation treatment. I remember on Thursday, about ½ way through my 30 treatments, when I woke up feeling scared, frustrated, angry, sad, alone…. I didn’t want any more radiation. If it hadn’t been for the Relaxation Group that day – I am not sure what I would have done.
The Relaxation Group is full of life, love, caring, understanding, acceptance and more. A place where I can be me, where I can feel and express my emotions, laugh and cry. A place where people listen and hear what I am saying. A very powerful nurturing, peaceful, healing place to be.
I take advantage of the many “tools” the clinic offers patients, families and friends. These include support groups, music and art therapy counseling, social worker counselors, volunteer driver’s service, and Therapeutic Touch workshops and sessions.
All the “tools” helped me again when my radiation treatments finished. While going for radiation, it was okay to go to the Relaxation Group because I was there anyway. Now the only reason for me to go to the Relaxation Group was to do something nice for me. Being a caregiver type, that was hard to do. With all the personal growth work I had done, I was aware of that sabotaging part of me and would find ways to sabotage the sabotaging. Like that 1st Thursday morning after treatment had finished, that I talked myself out of going to the Relaxation Group. “What if someone else needs the chair?” “I’m not good enough.” “I don’t deserve it.” “I’m too tired.” When I did get up, I called the volunteer drivers and booked a ride for the Monday morning Relaxation Group. I had just about talked myself into staying home again on Monday when I remembered the volunteer driver was picking me up. I also called on friends to meet me at the clinic – so then I had to go. I also realized that although I could go back to work physically, mentally and emotionally I didn’t want to and that was okay. I ended up taking a year for me and gradually fell back into my job. I am grateful to my boss for being patient and giving me the time and space that I needed.
Two years ago, I again took time off work for another life “drama” involving the death of my brother. After this, with my husband about to retire, I decided to “let go” of my job also. Again I have the Relaxation Group to thank for helping me though this period of losses.
I now spend 2 to 3 days a week “foot stroking” at the Relaxation Groups and visiting other patients and their families – talking, listening, and doing and teaching Therapeutic Touch – helping others on their journey.
For the last few months, I’ve been having the same feelings that I experienced when I was getting close to the end of the radiation treatments – sadness, loneliness, anxiety, abandonment, fear, etc. I was aware that this time it had to do with the 5 year anniversary approaching. These milestones are not always a happy celebrating time for everyone. We are all different, with different issues to deal with. At my last 6 month check up, when my doctor said that my next appointment would be my last, I was pleasantly surprised and pleased when my reaction was one of happiness and celebration. The Relaxation Group came through for me again – giving me balance, support, clarity and the courage to deal with my feelings.
My life has been touched by many “teachers” along the way. I continue to learn and relearn many of life’s lessons:
- changing “shoulds” to “coulds”. A choice – no guilt attached.
- the definition of “normal” is a setting on the washing machine.
- to be a “human being” not a “human doing”.
- get out of the way. Stop trying , start trusting.
- trusting my intuition. Listening to my “knowing”
- smiling at myself. Being patient with myself.
- to sabotage the sabotaging.
- I’m not stupid, dumb, …. I did a stupid, dumb,….thing.
- angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
- waking up to awareness.
- living in the moment
Tomorrow is tomorrow, yesterday is the past.
Today is a gift, that’s why they call it the “present”.
From one flower to another. May you blossom and grow to your full potential and become the beautiful you, you were created to be. I trust that my story touches and helps you on your journey. Thank you for listening.
By Lynn Keeling ( written in 1997 / submitted in March 2009 )
Relaxation Group - MY STORY
VANCOUVER CANCER CLINIC – Relaxation Group – MY STORY
by Lynn Keeling (written July 8, 1999 / submitted March 14, 2009)
Relaxation, meditation, Therapeutic Touch, are all useful tools (techniques)
Swollen ankles = swollen legs = aches and pains in knees, hip and back. After a hysterectomy and radiation treatments for cervical cancer, my G.P. and radiation oncologist both said that there was nothing I could do with the swelling of my legs and that I would just have to put up with it. They prescribed that I eat less salt, drink lots of water, and sit with my legs up. They said it would be worse in the hot weather. Lunching with other patients in the V.C.C. cafeteria after one of the regular relaxation groups, I learned:
1. – something can be done.
2. – the sooner I did something the better.
3. – many patients recommended the same physiotherapist.
I had many successful appointments with the recommended physiotherapist which included a leg pump machine. The swelling decreased and the aches and pains went away.
The Relaxation Group also introduced me to Therapeutic Touch. Learning T.T. has given me a tool to barter with. I can do exchanges with other body / energy practitioners. I have had sessions that I probably wouldn’t have had because of cost, which includes Craniosacral Therapy which I have found most beneficial. T.T. has saved me money. Research shows that I also physically benefit when I do T.T. on someone else.
Having something as comforting as T.T., to offer someone that I am visiting makes me feel useful. I have also been able to teach T.T. to patients and their family and friends. Having something as simple as “foot stroking” to do makes them feel useful as opposed to useless.
Learning T.T. has changed my life. To begin doing T.T., I take a moment to take care of myself by grounding and centering. Choosing to be in the present moment with the other person the center of my universe for our time together, not thinking of grocery shopping etc. When I am grounded and centered, I find that I respond to life situations instead of reacting. I can use this step on its own anytime and anywhere. Store line-ups, red lights, difficult situations, missed buses etc., are experienced differently now. Life changes because I have changed. I continue to become more confident in my abilities and to be more tolerant and accepting of myself and others. Using T.T., I continue to learn to tune into and trust my intuition. Being in the present moment is a connection with clarity and answers. I am more aware of my life’s journey.
These joys and benefits are also reflected in the practices of meditating and journaling which I continue to learn at the relaxation groups.
Networking with others is where I learned that there was a question to ask, let alone what the question should be. The new lunch table friends that I continue to make are a valuable resource socially and supportively.
by Lynn Keeling (written July 8, 1999 / submitted March 14, 2009)
Relaxation, meditation, Therapeutic Touch, are all useful tools (techniques)
Swollen ankles = swollen legs = aches and pains in knees, hip and back. After a hysterectomy and radiation treatments for cervical cancer, my G.P. and radiation oncologist both said that there was nothing I could do with the swelling of my legs and that I would just have to put up with it. They prescribed that I eat less salt, drink lots of water, and sit with my legs up. They said it would be worse in the hot weather. Lunching with other patients in the V.C.C. cafeteria after one of the regular relaxation groups, I learned:
1. – something can be done.
2. – the sooner I did something the better.
3. – many patients recommended the same physiotherapist.
I had many successful appointments with the recommended physiotherapist which included a leg pump machine. The swelling decreased and the aches and pains went away.
The Relaxation Group also introduced me to Therapeutic Touch. Learning T.T. has given me a tool to barter with. I can do exchanges with other body / energy practitioners. I have had sessions that I probably wouldn’t have had because of cost, which includes Craniosacral Therapy which I have found most beneficial. T.T. has saved me money. Research shows that I also physically benefit when I do T.T. on someone else.
Having something as comforting as T.T., to offer someone that I am visiting makes me feel useful. I have also been able to teach T.T. to patients and their family and friends. Having something as simple as “foot stroking” to do makes them feel useful as opposed to useless.
Learning T.T. has changed my life. To begin doing T.T., I take a moment to take care of myself by grounding and centering. Choosing to be in the present moment with the other person the center of my universe for our time together, not thinking of grocery shopping etc. When I am grounded and centered, I find that I respond to life situations instead of reacting. I can use this step on its own anytime and anywhere. Store line-ups, red lights, difficult situations, missed buses etc., are experienced differently now. Life changes because I have changed. I continue to become more confident in my abilities and to be more tolerant and accepting of myself and others. Using T.T., I continue to learn to tune into and trust my intuition. Being in the present moment is a connection with clarity and answers. I am more aware of my life’s journey.
These joys and benefits are also reflected in the practices of meditating and journaling which I continue to learn at the relaxation groups.
Networking with others is where I learned that there was a question to ask, let alone what the question should be. The new lunch table friends that I continue to make are a valuable resource socially and supportively.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
November Story - Remembering to Remember
Every day of the year there are reminders to be thankful. Plastic surgery developed because of war. We are living in a country where we can gather together standing in formation side by side with the enemy of the past, to remember. We are reminded by TV, radio, newspapers, red poppies and catchy slogans – “Keep the memory alive”. November 11th is even a statutory holiday.
So why is it then that I struggle, asking myself if I really need to bother to attend a Remembrance Day Ceremony! Can’t I just watch it on TV! I appreciate that hundreds of thousands sacrificed their lives for what we have today. I think about their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, classmates, friends and comrades left behind. Relationships torn apart. “Dear John” letters written. Mind numbing enormous sacrifices made by all. The decisions made on the battlefields that last a lifetime. There are many stories below the surface. Stories seldom told. My sheltered mind can’t grasp having to kill a person I might have played cards, shared pictures and sang songs with the night before. All this, while sleeping and marching on in the muddy cold rainy weather.
Then I remember the masses that do bother, including those over 100 years of age, some being soldiers we are to remember. I remind myself of the efforts of the organizers and participants, all who deserve my support. If they can attend, rain or shine, - so can I. It is the thoughts of present day living people that gets me out each year to attend the local Remembrance Day Ceremony. And I wonder if soldiers drew on the strength of those around them to find the drive to move on as they fought for us.
The historical reasons for this day of Remembrance should be enough to get me to attend. How could I even question my duty to give thanks by sacrificing an hour, once a year, compared to the conditions endured by soldiers at war! There isn’t a day that goes by that I shouldn’t be thankful.
Lynn Keeling
November 12th, 2009
So why is it then that I struggle, asking myself if I really need to bother to attend a Remembrance Day Ceremony! Can’t I just watch it on TV! I appreciate that hundreds of thousands sacrificed their lives for what we have today. I think about their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, classmates, friends and comrades left behind. Relationships torn apart. “Dear John” letters written. Mind numbing enormous sacrifices made by all. The decisions made on the battlefields that last a lifetime. There are many stories below the surface. Stories seldom told. My sheltered mind can’t grasp having to kill a person I might have played cards, shared pictures and sang songs with the night before. All this, while sleeping and marching on in the muddy cold rainy weather.
Then I remember the masses that do bother, including those over 100 years of age, some being soldiers we are to remember. I remind myself of the efforts of the organizers and participants, all who deserve my support. If they can attend, rain or shine, - so can I. It is the thoughts of present day living people that gets me out each year to attend the local Remembrance Day Ceremony. And I wonder if soldiers drew on the strength of those around them to find the drive to move on as they fought for us.
The historical reasons for this day of Remembrance should be enough to get me to attend. How could I even question my duty to give thanks by sacrificing an hour, once a year, compared to the conditions endured by soldiers at war! There isn’t a day that goes by that I shouldn’t be thankful.
Lynn Keeling
November 12th, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
WONDER WINKS 2
(I could have used a story I had written a few years ago called “Remembering Wondering Moments”, but I was inspired to push the envelop and expand on that piece. It didn’t work. Too many examples made it confusing and unclear. I learnt that it is better to stick with a few examples that are linked with a common theme. Less is better.)
I don’t remember when I first became aware of the subjects of reincarnation or paranormal phenomenon. As a child growing up in Calgary, they were not subjects of conversation in our household. I do know that I have always been comfortable with the ideas. Something rang true to me, made sense and seemed a natural fit with my developing belief system.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere of acceptance in our household. Growing up, it was a common experience to hear those dejavu type stories from my dad. I remember him coming home from a plumbing job and telling us that he remembered the house he had been at that day. Although he had never been there before, it was familiar and he told the owner where everything was. I remember my mom would patiently, politely listen to my dad, never saying much, so I don’t really know what she really thought.
One time, when I was living in Vancouver, I was in the hospital for gall bladder surgery. Just as I was waking up back in my hospital room, I remember saying out loud, “How do you think I feel, I just had surgery?” No one was there. The next time I was back in Calgary for a visit, my mom and dad asked me if anything strange had happened the day I had surgery and I told them what happened. Then they told me their story. According to them, when dad got home from work, he went to sit in his favorite chair in the living room and instantly found himself in my hospital room in Vancouver and had asked me how I was feeling. We left the experience at that.
In 1982, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Doctors operated and found that the cancer had spread extensively so they closed him up. They treated him with heavy doses of chemotherapy and sent him home. Weak and frustrated he spent hours as he tried his best to clean out the garage, not wanting to leave mom with the job.
After dads surgery, I returned home to Vancouver. A couple weeks later my mom phoned to tell us that dad was missing. He had said he was going for a walk and didn’t return. A transit bus driver came forward when he saw the story and picture on the front page of the Calgary newspaper. He remembered my dad because he had to wake him up at the end of the line in Bowness. Someone else had seen and talked to him. When I went out to the kitchen after that phone call, I noticed a match book square in the middle of the floor at least 6 feet from the counter. A mystery with no logical explanation as to how it got there. I took it as a sign from my dad.
I stayed in Vancouver on the off chance that dad might be making his way to see me. I contacted everyone in my circle of physic friends. I was told that he was near a body of water. Part of me still didn’t want to hear the truth.
The very next day as I was driving along, I noticed a funeral procession directly behind me. An experience that I had never had before and have not had since. I gave thanks to my dad for preparing me.
Mom phoned with the news that they had found dads body in the Bow River.
I knew that my dad’s family was Anglican but I don’t remember my dad ever going to church. So at the funeral when the Anglican minister started getting into heavy religious comments that didn’t reflect who my dad was at all, I started getting angry. Just then the minister used my dad’s brother’s name, Gordon, by mistake. It was an appropriate moment, as my uncle did go to church regularly. Again, my dad was taking care of me from beyond saving the day.
In the weeks after dad’s funeral we tackled the garage. What do you do with 17 toilet tank lids of various colors that we found stored in the rafters! Dad’s fellow plumbers came to the rescue and hauled away truck loads of stuff.
Growing up I always thought the youngest of my dad’s 4 brothers, Gordon, was the ‘black sheep’ of the family. A real momma’s boy, he always lived at home with his parents. On a vacation to Australia one year he came back with a wife. Auntie Margaret and Uncle Gordon moved to Victoria. We rarely saw them. Years later they got a divorce.
When his bothers in Calgary heard that Gordon was in the Victoria Hospice, they asked if I could spent time visiting him as there was no way they could come. I barely recognized him when I arrived. I traveled back and forth staying over night on the pull out sofa beds set up on the hospice ward. The hospice volunteer was surprised to meet me, as Uncle Gordon had told her that he didn’t have any family. I learned from other visitors that Uncle Gordon was well known and a well liked fixture in the local mall. I enjoyed getting to know Uncle Gordon.
The hospice nurse phoned me at home in Vancouver to let me know that Uncle Gordon had slipped into a coma and that the end was near. I spent those last days sitting with him, playing music and reading to him. One morning the nurse woke me up in the family room to let me know the time was near. She was back in a couple minutes to say he was gone. Just as he was in life, he chose a moment when he was alone. I made a few phone calls. Arrangements in place, I headed back to Vancouver.
Ralph and I went to Victoria the day before the funeral, or so we thought. We were representing the family that was back in Calgary. On the ferry I saw the obituary in the Victoria newspaper – the funeral was that day. What a helpless feeling. When we got off the ferry we made a couple of phone calls to find out that they had left us messages on our answering machine to let us know the date had been changed. We had checked our answering machine and heard no messages. Once we got back home, we listened to the answering machine again and all the messages were there. So Uncle Gordon had gotten his way after all, no family.
I marvel at the timing of this topic being on the heels of the Memoirs Writing class
homework assignment where I noticed that it is my dad’s side of the family that is connected to these kinds of ‘wonder’ moments.
Bizarre stories to some. I always wonder where our lives would have taken us if we had explored these connections further. I trust that some day the answers will be revealed. For now, I will just patiently, politely wait as I wonder. Wink.
By Lynn Keeling
Jan 30, 2009
I don’t remember when I first became aware of the subjects of reincarnation or paranormal phenomenon. As a child growing up in Calgary, they were not subjects of conversation in our household. I do know that I have always been comfortable with the ideas. Something rang true to me, made sense and seemed a natural fit with my developing belief system.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere of acceptance in our household. Growing up, it was a common experience to hear those dejavu type stories from my dad. I remember him coming home from a plumbing job and telling us that he remembered the house he had been at that day. Although he had never been there before, it was familiar and he told the owner where everything was. I remember my mom would patiently, politely listen to my dad, never saying much, so I don’t really know what she really thought.
One time, when I was living in Vancouver, I was in the hospital for gall bladder surgery. Just as I was waking up back in my hospital room, I remember saying out loud, “How do you think I feel, I just had surgery?” No one was there. The next time I was back in Calgary for a visit, my mom and dad asked me if anything strange had happened the day I had surgery and I told them what happened. Then they told me their story. According to them, when dad got home from work, he went to sit in his favorite chair in the living room and instantly found himself in my hospital room in Vancouver and had asked me how I was feeling. We left the experience at that.
In 1982, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Doctors operated and found that the cancer had spread extensively so they closed him up. They treated him with heavy doses of chemotherapy and sent him home. Weak and frustrated he spent hours as he tried his best to clean out the garage, not wanting to leave mom with the job.
After dads surgery, I returned home to Vancouver. A couple weeks later my mom phoned to tell us that dad was missing. He had said he was going for a walk and didn’t return. A transit bus driver came forward when he saw the story and picture on the front page of the Calgary newspaper. He remembered my dad because he had to wake him up at the end of the line in Bowness. Someone else had seen and talked to him. When I went out to the kitchen after that phone call, I noticed a match book square in the middle of the floor at least 6 feet from the counter. A mystery with no logical explanation as to how it got there. I took it as a sign from my dad.
I stayed in Vancouver on the off chance that dad might be making his way to see me. I contacted everyone in my circle of physic friends. I was told that he was near a body of water. Part of me still didn’t want to hear the truth.
The very next day as I was driving along, I noticed a funeral procession directly behind me. An experience that I had never had before and have not had since. I gave thanks to my dad for preparing me.
Mom phoned with the news that they had found dads body in the Bow River.
I knew that my dad’s family was Anglican but I don’t remember my dad ever going to church. So at the funeral when the Anglican minister started getting into heavy religious comments that didn’t reflect who my dad was at all, I started getting angry. Just then the minister used my dad’s brother’s name, Gordon, by mistake. It was an appropriate moment, as my uncle did go to church regularly. Again, my dad was taking care of me from beyond saving the day.
In the weeks after dad’s funeral we tackled the garage. What do you do with 17 toilet tank lids of various colors that we found stored in the rafters! Dad’s fellow plumbers came to the rescue and hauled away truck loads of stuff.
Growing up I always thought the youngest of my dad’s 4 brothers, Gordon, was the ‘black sheep’ of the family. A real momma’s boy, he always lived at home with his parents. On a vacation to Australia one year he came back with a wife. Auntie Margaret and Uncle Gordon moved to Victoria. We rarely saw them. Years later they got a divorce.
When his bothers in Calgary heard that Gordon was in the Victoria Hospice, they asked if I could spent time visiting him as there was no way they could come. I barely recognized him when I arrived. I traveled back and forth staying over night on the pull out sofa beds set up on the hospice ward. The hospice volunteer was surprised to meet me, as Uncle Gordon had told her that he didn’t have any family. I learned from other visitors that Uncle Gordon was well known and a well liked fixture in the local mall. I enjoyed getting to know Uncle Gordon.
The hospice nurse phoned me at home in Vancouver to let me know that Uncle Gordon had slipped into a coma and that the end was near. I spent those last days sitting with him, playing music and reading to him. One morning the nurse woke me up in the family room to let me know the time was near. She was back in a couple minutes to say he was gone. Just as he was in life, he chose a moment when he was alone. I made a few phone calls. Arrangements in place, I headed back to Vancouver.
Ralph and I went to Victoria the day before the funeral, or so we thought. We were representing the family that was back in Calgary. On the ferry I saw the obituary in the Victoria newspaper – the funeral was that day. What a helpless feeling. When we got off the ferry we made a couple of phone calls to find out that they had left us messages on our answering machine to let us know the date had been changed. We had checked our answering machine and heard no messages. Once we got back home, we listened to the answering machine again and all the messages were there. So Uncle Gordon had gotten his way after all, no family.
I marvel at the timing of this topic being on the heels of the Memoirs Writing class
homework assignment where I noticed that it is my dad’s side of the family that is connected to these kinds of ‘wonder’ moments.
Bizarre stories to some. I always wonder where our lives would have taken us if we had explored these connections further. I trust that some day the answers will be revealed. For now, I will just patiently, politely wait as I wonder. Wink.
By Lynn Keeling
Jan 30, 2009
WONDER WINKS
I could have used a story I had written a few years ago called “Remembering Wondering Moments”, but I was inspired to push the envelope and expand on that piece.
Thinking back, I remember a moment as a young child when I decided to stop being the person everyone came to for counseling. I remember clearly, saying to myself, “I’ll grow up when I’m 40”. So, I turned myself off and instantly people stopped coming to me. I wonder what would have happened if I had continued on the path I was on.
I grew up in a household where my dad would come home from a plumbing job with stories like how he remembered a house he had worked in that day. Although he had never been there before it was familiar and he knew where everything was. Bizarre experiences to some. My mother would patiently, politely listen, never saying much so I don’t really know what she thought. I was always comfortable with the idea of reincarnation, somehow it just all made sense to me.
There was the time that I was living in Vancouver and was having surgery. Back in my hospital room, I remember saying out loud “How do you think I feel, I’ve just had surgery”, because someone had just asked me how I was feeling. No one was there. The next time I was back home in Calgary for a visit, my mom and dad asked me if anything strange had happened the day I had surgery and I told them what happened. The story according to them was that when my dad got home from work, he went to sit in his favorite chair in the living room and instantly found himself in my hospital room in Vancouver and had asked me how I was feeling. We left the experience at that. I wonder where our lives would have taken us if we had explored these connections further.
Volumes could be written about my 13 years living with Alan. A friend of mine in Quesnel, had phoned me in Toronto, asking if her co worker could stay with me while he was attending a Crisis Line conference. Off we went to pick him up at the airport. Alan said that there was a spark that shot between us when he first saw me. I hadn’t noticed being that I was with my boyfriend, Dean, who had kindly agreed to drive us. I had brought along my housemate, Bonnie, for Alan. Long story, short – I soon moved to Quesnel and started my life with Alan.
Years later, when mom phoned to tell us that my dad was missing, I found a match book in the middle of the kitchen floor. The next day I was driving along and noticed a funeral procession behind me. Signs from Dad, preparing me. Mom phoned the next day to tell us they had found my dads body.
During these years I took reflexology workshops and other various healing workshops. One day after on course in Vancouver, I missed my exit driving home to Langley. I found myself driving down a road – clear blue sky and sunshine on the Vancouver side of the road and dark stormy clouds on the Langley side. Clearly, I was being shown an obvious choice to make, in my eyes. I spent a few more years in the stormy relationship. Wonderful moments mixed in; working at Expo 86, winning a Lincoln Town Car on a scratch and win ticket, and more time with his sister, Brenda, and her family and all the other relatives.
Magical moments like the morning I drove the nieces and nephews to school. The light had turned green, yet I stayed put for some reason, even with the oldest telling me the light was green and that I could go. Just then, an 18 wheeler roared though the intersection in front of us. Another moment to wonder about.
When I finally left Alan, we were on a trip and had stopped for gas in Keremeos. I refused to get back in the car. The next day I caught a Greyhound bus back to Langley. There in the parking lot of the bus depot was our car, Alan was no where to be seen. He later said that he had gone to the bakery across the street. I jumped in the car and took off, stopping at our basement suite to load up as much as I could in a few minutes. This lead me on the most magical journey, that lead me to a transition house. The next day, each person I talked to on the phone, gave me another number to phone. Then I was to call back in an hour, so I went and sat on the beach at White Rock. There was this dog that ran first one way and then back the other way, sometimes running out into the water chasing the sea gull shadows. So free. Eventually a man came wandering by. He was the dog’s owner or I should say the dog was his owner. The story was that his wife and him had moved to a condo and had given the dog to his son and family. The dog had run away twice and had found his way back to them. A precious moment I remember well.
Back to make yet another phone call. I was told that there was a bed available, and asked if I wanted it. I had to say the most difficult word I had ever said, “yes”. I planned to spend one night and get all the information I was looking for – what my rights were, options, etc. Long story short, I stayed there for a month. There was a reference list of programs. One I called was Relationships Anonymous to be told that they had stopped meeting 2 years ago, but the lady told me about weekly co-dependency meetings at the Vancouver Unity Church. Another 8 week course called Gemini interested me because it is my Zodiac sign. It started the next day. It turned out to be a self assertive, self awareness course on polishing the Gem In I. I loved it.
I went to the Unity Church on Mothers Day, mostly to get information on the Wednesday evening co-dependency group. I felt like I had come home. The minister was talking directly to me. On the ride home every song on the radio was healing, meaningful, up lifting. Once I got back to Surrey, I sat in my car to keep listening to the songs. The next song had nothing to do with anything, the moment was over.
One week the minister said to make a list of things we want to do then to go out and do them. That was the day I met Ralph. After the service, I noticed him a few rows in front of me and heard the thought in my head, “you’ve seen that man a few times now you should say Hi to him”. At coffee downstairs, he came and stood right beside the chair I was sitting in, so I jumped up and told him a little voice had told me upstairs that I should say Hi to him. We introduced ourselves and chatted for a minute. Later, in the parking lot, I noticed that he was riding a motorcycle and that would be on my list, so I told him he needed to take me for a ride sometime. A few weeks later I got my ride and we have been happily together for 18 years. He is all my dreams come true in one bundle. My own balloon animal maker. My 13 years with Alan put me in the right place at the right time to meet Ralph. I wonder if we would have met if I had left Alan sooner.
There has and continues to be even more wonder ah ha moments through the years.
At Norah’s memorial service 4 of us honored Norah and her drum with a drumming session. Someone noticed a rainbow outside – not one, but five. One vibrant brilliant one and 4 muted ones below it, one for Norah and one for each of the 4 of us. Perfectly in line with the entrance to her condo building where the reception was.
We missed Uncle Gordon’s funeral in Victoria. I was to represent the family that was back in Calgary. We didn’t get the answering machine messages telling us the date had been changed. We were on the ferry when I saw the obituary in the Victoria paper saying the service was at that exact moment. What a helpless feeling. Once we got back home, we listened to the answering machine again and all the messages were there. My uncles doing! I wonder? He was a loner, the black sheep of the family.
At Bernie’s memorial service at the Minoru Seniors Centre today, the microphone died. A sign from Bernie, that it was time to end the stories and have coffee and cookies.
I am wondering if I am supposed to attend the Ama Deus workshop next weekend. The brochure talks about the Mayan culture and that same day I got a travel email about a Mayan resort. The instructor’s last name is Spano and a couple days later I saw that name again totally unrelated to her workshop. Are these signs that I am supposed to attend? I wonder. Wow, on Friday at the ladies Tai Chi lunch, as I was reading the menu at Moxy’s restaurant, there was Mayan again. Shaking my head here, wondering.
The timing of this topic being on the heels of the homework assignment at the Memoirs Writing class at Cambie makes me wonder. We were to write about a dead relative that influenced us and I had noticed that it is my dad’s side of the family that is connected to these kinds of Wonder moments. And that I had already written a story about Wonder which I haven’t even included in this piece. I wonder why.
Magical coincidences that prove to me that I truly am in the right place at the right time.
Looking back, I wonder what path my life would have taken if I had become the nurse I had thought I would be. Would I have found the healing energy work. Did that choice make it necessary for me to be a patient to find a medical institution that taught Therapeutic Touch and had a Relaxation Group program.
My 40th birthday has come and gone. I’ll be 60 this May and I am still wondering if I have grown up yet. I trust that some day the answers to all these questions will be revealed. For now, I will just patiently, politely wait as I wonder. Wink.
By Lynn Keeling Jan. 2009
Thinking back, I remember a moment as a young child when I decided to stop being the person everyone came to for counseling. I remember clearly, saying to myself, “I’ll grow up when I’m 40”. So, I turned myself off and instantly people stopped coming to me. I wonder what would have happened if I had continued on the path I was on.
I grew up in a household where my dad would come home from a plumbing job with stories like how he remembered a house he had worked in that day. Although he had never been there before it was familiar and he knew where everything was. Bizarre experiences to some. My mother would patiently, politely listen, never saying much so I don’t really know what she thought. I was always comfortable with the idea of reincarnation, somehow it just all made sense to me.
There was the time that I was living in Vancouver and was having surgery. Back in my hospital room, I remember saying out loud “How do you think I feel, I’ve just had surgery”, because someone had just asked me how I was feeling. No one was there. The next time I was back home in Calgary for a visit, my mom and dad asked me if anything strange had happened the day I had surgery and I told them what happened. The story according to them was that when my dad got home from work, he went to sit in his favorite chair in the living room and instantly found himself in my hospital room in Vancouver and had asked me how I was feeling. We left the experience at that. I wonder where our lives would have taken us if we had explored these connections further.
Volumes could be written about my 13 years living with Alan. A friend of mine in Quesnel, had phoned me in Toronto, asking if her co worker could stay with me while he was attending a Crisis Line conference. Off we went to pick him up at the airport. Alan said that there was a spark that shot between us when he first saw me. I hadn’t noticed being that I was with my boyfriend, Dean, who had kindly agreed to drive us. I had brought along my housemate, Bonnie, for Alan. Long story, short – I soon moved to Quesnel and started my life with Alan.
Years later, when mom phoned to tell us that my dad was missing, I found a match book in the middle of the kitchen floor. The next day I was driving along and noticed a funeral procession behind me. Signs from Dad, preparing me. Mom phoned the next day to tell us they had found my dads body.
During these years I took reflexology workshops and other various healing workshops. One day after on course in Vancouver, I missed my exit driving home to Langley. I found myself driving down a road – clear blue sky and sunshine on the Vancouver side of the road and dark stormy clouds on the Langley side. Clearly, I was being shown an obvious choice to make, in my eyes. I spent a few more years in the stormy relationship. Wonderful moments mixed in; working at Expo 86, winning a Lincoln Town Car on a scratch and win ticket, and more time with his sister, Brenda, and her family and all the other relatives.
Magical moments like the morning I drove the nieces and nephews to school. The light had turned green, yet I stayed put for some reason, even with the oldest telling me the light was green and that I could go. Just then, an 18 wheeler roared though the intersection in front of us. Another moment to wonder about.
When I finally left Alan, we were on a trip and had stopped for gas in Keremeos. I refused to get back in the car. The next day I caught a Greyhound bus back to Langley. There in the parking lot of the bus depot was our car, Alan was no where to be seen. He later said that he had gone to the bakery across the street. I jumped in the car and took off, stopping at our basement suite to load up as much as I could in a few minutes. This lead me on the most magical journey, that lead me to a transition house. The next day, each person I talked to on the phone, gave me another number to phone. Then I was to call back in an hour, so I went and sat on the beach at White Rock. There was this dog that ran first one way and then back the other way, sometimes running out into the water chasing the sea gull shadows. So free. Eventually a man came wandering by. He was the dog’s owner or I should say the dog was his owner. The story was that his wife and him had moved to a condo and had given the dog to his son and family. The dog had run away twice and had found his way back to them. A precious moment I remember well.
Back to make yet another phone call. I was told that there was a bed available, and asked if I wanted it. I had to say the most difficult word I had ever said, “yes”. I planned to spend one night and get all the information I was looking for – what my rights were, options, etc. Long story short, I stayed there for a month. There was a reference list of programs. One I called was Relationships Anonymous to be told that they had stopped meeting 2 years ago, but the lady told me about weekly co-dependency meetings at the Vancouver Unity Church. Another 8 week course called Gemini interested me because it is my Zodiac sign. It started the next day. It turned out to be a self assertive, self awareness course on polishing the Gem In I. I loved it.
I went to the Unity Church on Mothers Day, mostly to get information on the Wednesday evening co-dependency group. I felt like I had come home. The minister was talking directly to me. On the ride home every song on the radio was healing, meaningful, up lifting. Once I got back to Surrey, I sat in my car to keep listening to the songs. The next song had nothing to do with anything, the moment was over.
One week the minister said to make a list of things we want to do then to go out and do them. That was the day I met Ralph. After the service, I noticed him a few rows in front of me and heard the thought in my head, “you’ve seen that man a few times now you should say Hi to him”. At coffee downstairs, he came and stood right beside the chair I was sitting in, so I jumped up and told him a little voice had told me upstairs that I should say Hi to him. We introduced ourselves and chatted for a minute. Later, in the parking lot, I noticed that he was riding a motorcycle and that would be on my list, so I told him he needed to take me for a ride sometime. A few weeks later I got my ride and we have been happily together for 18 years. He is all my dreams come true in one bundle. My own balloon animal maker. My 13 years with Alan put me in the right place at the right time to meet Ralph. I wonder if we would have met if I had left Alan sooner.
There has and continues to be even more wonder ah ha moments through the years.
At Norah’s memorial service 4 of us honored Norah and her drum with a drumming session. Someone noticed a rainbow outside – not one, but five. One vibrant brilliant one and 4 muted ones below it, one for Norah and one for each of the 4 of us. Perfectly in line with the entrance to her condo building where the reception was.
We missed Uncle Gordon’s funeral in Victoria. I was to represent the family that was back in Calgary. We didn’t get the answering machine messages telling us the date had been changed. We were on the ferry when I saw the obituary in the Victoria paper saying the service was at that exact moment. What a helpless feeling. Once we got back home, we listened to the answering machine again and all the messages were there. My uncles doing! I wonder? He was a loner, the black sheep of the family.
At Bernie’s memorial service at the Minoru Seniors Centre today, the microphone died. A sign from Bernie, that it was time to end the stories and have coffee and cookies.
I am wondering if I am supposed to attend the Ama Deus workshop next weekend. The brochure talks about the Mayan culture and that same day I got a travel email about a Mayan resort. The instructor’s last name is Spano and a couple days later I saw that name again totally unrelated to her workshop. Are these signs that I am supposed to attend? I wonder. Wow, on Friday at the ladies Tai Chi lunch, as I was reading the menu at Moxy’s restaurant, there was Mayan again. Shaking my head here, wondering.
The timing of this topic being on the heels of the homework assignment at the Memoirs Writing class at Cambie makes me wonder. We were to write about a dead relative that influenced us and I had noticed that it is my dad’s side of the family that is connected to these kinds of Wonder moments. And that I had already written a story about Wonder which I haven’t even included in this piece. I wonder why.
Magical coincidences that prove to me that I truly am in the right place at the right time.
Looking back, I wonder what path my life would have taken if I had become the nurse I had thought I would be. Would I have found the healing energy work. Did that choice make it necessary for me to be a patient to find a medical institution that taught Therapeutic Touch and had a Relaxation Group program.
My 40th birthday has come and gone. I’ll be 60 this May and I am still wondering if I have grown up yet. I trust that some day the answers to all these questions will be revealed. For now, I will just patiently, politely wait as I wonder. Wink.
By Lynn Keeling Jan. 2009
WONDER
Definition: Wonder (wun`der) – n.- a feeling of amazement or admiration v. – to feel admiration; to feel uncertainty.
Synonyms: - speculate, doubt, question, be unsure, conjecture.
How many words can you make from the letters in the word ‘wonder’? There’s won, on, one, Don, Ron, done, red, rod, roe, row, rode, rend, now, new, no, nod, doe, nor, ore, or, ode, dew, wore, wed, worn, word.
The process of wondering can be linked with making choices, decisions. I wonder what I should do, what choice I should make. I wonder what will be the best decision. Should I or shouldn’t I.
Then once I have made a choice, I wonder if I made the right decision. I wonder what would have happened if I had made the other choice. I wonder if maybe there were other choices that I could have made that I wasn’t even aware of.
Simple choices, like which item to order from the menu in a restaurant turns into a complicated over intellectualized turmoil. Once the choice is made, I still wonder if I made the right choice. Is it what I really want! Will it satisfy me! Will it satisfy my craving! Will I wish I had ordered something different!
I wonder why my decisions around choices are often influence by the cost. Money is often the deciding factor that sways my decision making process. Trade off’s, on the balance sheet of wants.
I even wonder what decisions I would make when I win the lottery, living a life where money was no object. I wonder when and where I should buy a lottery ticket. I wonder if I am supposed to be playing the same numbers, or if my winning ticket will be a quick pick. I wonder when I am going to win. What choices will I make with the money I win!
Then there is the wonder of nature. It is amazing. There are fragrances, colors, textures. So many things to wonder about, like one word – green, for so many different colors.
And have you ever wondered why! Why me! Why not me! Why you! Why not you!
Even wondered why someone liked or disliked me! What did I do wrong, right!
How can I be unsure when I speculate on the question of the doubt I conjectured.
I wonder.
January 2009
Synonyms: - speculate, doubt, question, be unsure, conjecture.
How many words can you make from the letters in the word ‘wonder’? There’s won, on, one, Don, Ron, done, red, rod, roe, row, rode, rend, now, new, no, nod, doe, nor, ore, or, ode, dew, wore, wed, worn, word.
The process of wondering can be linked with making choices, decisions. I wonder what I should do, what choice I should make. I wonder what will be the best decision. Should I or shouldn’t I.
Then once I have made a choice, I wonder if I made the right decision. I wonder what would have happened if I had made the other choice. I wonder if maybe there were other choices that I could have made that I wasn’t even aware of.
Simple choices, like which item to order from the menu in a restaurant turns into a complicated over intellectualized turmoil. Once the choice is made, I still wonder if I made the right choice. Is it what I really want! Will it satisfy me! Will it satisfy my craving! Will I wish I had ordered something different!
I wonder why my decisions around choices are often influence by the cost. Money is often the deciding factor that sways my decision making process. Trade off’s, on the balance sheet of wants.
I even wonder what decisions I would make when I win the lottery, living a life where money was no object. I wonder when and where I should buy a lottery ticket. I wonder if I am supposed to be playing the same numbers, or if my winning ticket will be a quick pick. I wonder when I am going to win. What choices will I make with the money I win!
Then there is the wonder of nature. It is amazing. There are fragrances, colors, textures. So many things to wonder about, like one word – green, for so many different colors.
And have you ever wondered why! Why me! Why not me! Why you! Why not you!
Even wondered why someone liked or disliked me! What did I do wrong, right!
How can I be unsure when I speculate on the question of the doubt I conjectured.
I wonder.
January 2009
WHEN DID THEY FEEL THAT THEY BECAME ADULTS
ADULT – n.- a man or woman who is fully grown; a mature person. Adj. - having reached full size and strength.
SENIOR – adj. – being the older of two; of higher office or rank; referring to the last year of high school or college. N.- one who is older or of higher rank.
Growing up I was led to believe that the magic age of 18 made me an adult. Just as 13 made me a teenager, 16 allowed me to drive, 18 to sign up to go to war or to get married. 21 back then, now 18, to vote. Legal drinking age was 21 lowered to 18 or 19 depending where you were.
As a teenager I thought I knew everything and that adults were dumb. I remember thinking that my mom was old and done when she turned 40.
Then my 18th birthday came and went. Over the years I began to see how stupid I’d been, the big know it all that I believed me to be. I soon understood how patient the adults had been, seeing all after all.
Years of school learning to prepare for adulthood. I played my role well for family and friends by getting married at age 21. What was supposed to be for life lasted 2 years, so much for school teaching me how to live life.
The rest of my 20’s were spent acting like a teenager, years that I had lost because I was so shy. A period of my life when I regressed, acting like a kid, instead of acting my age. 25 was huge for I thought that a ¼ of a century was a hell of a long time. For many years I would glide back and forth from what I still called home to living on my own. I would arrive with my suitcase full of laundry for my mom to do, taking advantage in so many ways. Always leaving with care packages and money too.
Advice I rejected, as I was still rebelling. Still using my parents, while trying to break free from their grasp. Wanting to grow up, yet scared to be me. Still trying to succeed by pleasing society. Learning by trial and error as I tread through my life, for none of my schooling had taught me a thing I could use.
On through my 30’s, then I turned 40, and no surprise, it’s not old after all. Still wondering when adulthood would begin, I wandered through life. The ½ century mark has come and gone. Starting to enjoy the senior’s discounts offered at 55, 62 or 65 depending on which restaurant you are in, as well as monthly senior’s movies to be enjoyed too.
This year will 60, collecting C.P.P. Then comes 65 and the O.A.S pension, well you know the rest. No sense in speeding up the process, for just like mom said, “The years go by faster, the older you get.”
I thought the dictionary might help answer your question, but now I’m confused, for you see it’s well known that when you get older you shrink and get weaker. So now I am wondering if the moment of becoming an ‘adult’ is when you have reached full size and strength and has nothing to do with emotional maturity after all.
By Lynn Keeling (Feb 10, 2009)
SENIOR – adj. – being the older of two; of higher office or rank; referring to the last year of high school or college. N.- one who is older or of higher rank.
Growing up I was led to believe that the magic age of 18 made me an adult. Just as 13 made me a teenager, 16 allowed me to drive, 18 to sign up to go to war or to get married. 21 back then, now 18, to vote. Legal drinking age was 21 lowered to 18 or 19 depending where you were.
As a teenager I thought I knew everything and that adults were dumb. I remember thinking that my mom was old and done when she turned 40.
Then my 18th birthday came and went. Over the years I began to see how stupid I’d been, the big know it all that I believed me to be. I soon understood how patient the adults had been, seeing all after all.
Years of school learning to prepare for adulthood. I played my role well for family and friends by getting married at age 21. What was supposed to be for life lasted 2 years, so much for school teaching me how to live life.
The rest of my 20’s were spent acting like a teenager, years that I had lost because I was so shy. A period of my life when I regressed, acting like a kid, instead of acting my age. 25 was huge for I thought that a ¼ of a century was a hell of a long time. For many years I would glide back and forth from what I still called home to living on my own. I would arrive with my suitcase full of laundry for my mom to do, taking advantage in so many ways. Always leaving with care packages and money too.
Advice I rejected, as I was still rebelling. Still using my parents, while trying to break free from their grasp. Wanting to grow up, yet scared to be me. Still trying to succeed by pleasing society. Learning by trial and error as I tread through my life, for none of my schooling had taught me a thing I could use.
On through my 30’s, then I turned 40, and no surprise, it’s not old after all. Still wondering when adulthood would begin, I wandered through life. The ½ century mark has come and gone. Starting to enjoy the senior’s discounts offered at 55, 62 or 65 depending on which restaurant you are in, as well as monthly senior’s movies to be enjoyed too.
This year will 60, collecting C.P.P. Then comes 65 and the O.A.S pension, well you know the rest. No sense in speeding up the process, for just like mom said, “The years go by faster, the older you get.”
I thought the dictionary might help answer your question, but now I’m confused, for you see it’s well known that when you get older you shrink and get weaker. So now I am wondering if the moment of becoming an ‘adult’ is when you have reached full size and strength and has nothing to do with emotional maturity after all.
By Lynn Keeling (Feb 10, 2009)
UNCLE BILL AND AUNTIE DOT
I don’t remember my dads’ parents working, not like my moms parents. It was always exciting to go visit moms side of the family. Memories of helping in the restaurant by slicing dill pickles for grandma and then visiting the small hotel they owned in Carsland, Alberta. How exciting to go into the bar after hours of course. There were meals shared with the road construction crew that paid for room and board. I still remember the cribbage game with one of these men. He counted the points so fast it scared me. The hands and game were over in an instant it seemed. We were always looking forward to these visits, knowing that we would be leaving with another silver dollar from granddad. Mom’s 2 brothers were married with lots of kids. Good time memories of visits playing with our cousins and lots of food.
Then there were visits to dads side of the family which could be labeled ‘obligation visits’. There was games and good food. Once granddad Keeling tried giving us a silver dollar when we were leaving, it felt like he was trying to buy us. It wasn’t the same.
Uncle Gordon, my dad’s youngest brother now in his 40’s, still lived at home. I considered him as the black sheep of the family. He traveled to far off countries on his vacations from his job at the post office. One year he came back from Australia married. He got a transfer and Aunt Margaret and he moved to Victoria, BC. I guess she didn’t want to live with my grandparents.
There was also dad’s other 2 brothers, Bill and John. Uncle John and Aunt Irene had 2 children, Wayne and Janice. Uncle Bill and Auntie Dot spent most of their married life in Timmons, Ontario where he worked as a mailman. They had no children.
This is the 1st time that I have noticed the parallels. 4 boys, 2 married with 2 children each and the other 2 married with no children and both worked for the post office.
When the family in Calgary, found out that Uncle Gordon was in the Victoria Hospice, they asked if I could go visit being I lived in Vancouver. It was at these visits that I got to know another side of Uncle Gordon. The hospice ward in the hospital is beautiful. They had rooms with pull out beds where I slept overnight and bagels, muffins, coffee and tea in the mornings.
It didn’t surprise me when I introduced myself to the hospice volunteer as Gordon’s niece from Vancouver, visiting on behalf of his brothers and family in Calgary, that he had told her that he didn’t have any family. I met some of his visitors and learned that Uncle Gordon was a well known regular at the mall.
I headed back to Vancouver the day he died. There was a retired minister, an old family friend that was taking care of all the arrangements on my uncle’s request. Ralph and I would be back for the funeral to represent the family.
We were on the ferry to Victoria the day before the service planning to camp out, leaving nothing to chance. I had been checking the Victoria newspaper obits and there it was, only the service was that very day. What a useless devastating feeling, being stuck on the ferry with no way to get there on time.
Later that day, I talked to a couple of people to find out that they had both phoned us and had left messages on the answering machine about the change of day. We had checked our messages and not heard any from them. When we got home, we checked again, and sure enough, the messages were there. Clearly Uncle Gordon didn’t want us there.
When I started this story, I thought it was going to be about Uncle Bill and Auntie Dot. They must have come to Calgary for holidays over the years. I don’t remember much about them. I went to Timmons once to visit them. They took me to friends with them for card night and taught me to play Euchre.
They moved to Calgary when he retired to be closer to family. My visits to Calgary would always include a visit to see them in their apartment. Ralph and I enjoyed these visits and looked forward to them. My mom seemed to see it as an obligation.
Uncle Bill was living with cancer and had a paid nurse visiting daily to help him. Auntie Dot drifted away diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I witnessed their love connections wrapped in patience and compassion. The time came when they had to make the move to the Bethany Hospital where they lived on different wards. Uncle Bill would take us to the Alzheimer’s ward to visit Auntie Dot. She still seemed to be connected to him somehow trusting him and always wanting him to take her with him when he left. I can’t imagine how hard the end of these many visits must have been for both of them.
I strive to love even half as much as this wonderful example of the purest love I have ever witnessed.
By Lynn Keeling
February 15, 2009
Then there were visits to dads side of the family which could be labeled ‘obligation visits’. There was games and good food. Once granddad Keeling tried giving us a silver dollar when we were leaving, it felt like he was trying to buy us. It wasn’t the same.
Uncle Gordon, my dad’s youngest brother now in his 40’s, still lived at home. I considered him as the black sheep of the family. He traveled to far off countries on his vacations from his job at the post office. One year he came back from Australia married. He got a transfer and Aunt Margaret and he moved to Victoria, BC. I guess she didn’t want to live with my grandparents.
There was also dad’s other 2 brothers, Bill and John. Uncle John and Aunt Irene had 2 children, Wayne and Janice. Uncle Bill and Auntie Dot spent most of their married life in Timmons, Ontario where he worked as a mailman. They had no children.
This is the 1st time that I have noticed the parallels. 4 boys, 2 married with 2 children each and the other 2 married with no children and both worked for the post office.
When the family in Calgary, found out that Uncle Gordon was in the Victoria Hospice, they asked if I could go visit being I lived in Vancouver. It was at these visits that I got to know another side of Uncle Gordon. The hospice ward in the hospital is beautiful. They had rooms with pull out beds where I slept overnight and bagels, muffins, coffee and tea in the mornings.
It didn’t surprise me when I introduced myself to the hospice volunteer as Gordon’s niece from Vancouver, visiting on behalf of his brothers and family in Calgary, that he had told her that he didn’t have any family. I met some of his visitors and learned that Uncle Gordon was a well known regular at the mall.
I headed back to Vancouver the day he died. There was a retired minister, an old family friend that was taking care of all the arrangements on my uncle’s request. Ralph and I would be back for the funeral to represent the family.
We were on the ferry to Victoria the day before the service planning to camp out, leaving nothing to chance. I had been checking the Victoria newspaper obits and there it was, only the service was that very day. What a useless devastating feeling, being stuck on the ferry with no way to get there on time.
Later that day, I talked to a couple of people to find out that they had both phoned us and had left messages on the answering machine about the change of day. We had checked our messages and not heard any from them. When we got home, we checked again, and sure enough, the messages were there. Clearly Uncle Gordon didn’t want us there.
When I started this story, I thought it was going to be about Uncle Bill and Auntie Dot. They must have come to Calgary for holidays over the years. I don’t remember much about them. I went to Timmons once to visit them. They took me to friends with them for card night and taught me to play Euchre.
They moved to Calgary when he retired to be closer to family. My visits to Calgary would always include a visit to see them in their apartment. Ralph and I enjoyed these visits and looked forward to them. My mom seemed to see it as an obligation.
Uncle Bill was living with cancer and had a paid nurse visiting daily to help him. Auntie Dot drifted away diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I witnessed their love connections wrapped in patience and compassion. The time came when they had to make the move to the Bethany Hospital where they lived on different wards. Uncle Bill would take us to the Alzheimer’s ward to visit Auntie Dot. She still seemed to be connected to him somehow trusting him and always wanting him to take her with him when he left. I can’t imagine how hard the end of these many visits must have been for both of them.
I strive to love even half as much as this wonderful example of the purest love I have ever witnessed.
By Lynn Keeling
February 15, 2009
STILL WATER RUNS DEEP
Sometimes the universe offers to stir up the waters that run deep within each of us. Opportunities come our way to churn up and loosen the silt of our lives, allowing us to let go and release. For me, days or even weeks before a workshop of any sort, I’ll notice the stirrings begin, sometimes even before I have decided to attend said workshop. This wonderful process continues on at the workshop and then sometimes for long afterwards. As is the case with this story about the last T.T. workshop I assisted at.
I have attempted many times to put into words a description of the sequence of events that transpired that day. Nothing I write seems to ring true. I am aware that some words are just not ready to be written as yet, as I struggle with the resistance to write them, hence the healing continues even months later.
Part of the struggle is about wanting to display my words so they clearly speak what I am trying so hard to express. What I need to do is learn “Barack language”, that clear, concise way of weaving words together to inspire all that read me.
Until then, just know that energy shifted and there were many wonderful ah ha moments of awareness throughout the day.
I seized the moment and made the choice to practice what we teach, to honor myself and what I needed. Instead of me doing the upcoming demonstration of T.T., I asked to be the one receiving as I had a mild headache. This turned into a rich experience for all, as each of the students were invited to assess what the energy field was like on someone with a headache. It was a rich experience for me as well and I also learned a lot.
Having just received T.T., my deep waters were churning. Wanting to take off and be outside by myself for awhile, I chose instead to sit quietly in my own process as I was observing the students giving each other T.T. I questioned whether it was my stuff or someone else’s or a combination of both. I suspected both, which was confirmed later when we were all sharing. In the moment, I trusted that “this too shall pass”, and it did.
There are many characters in this story, some present and some not. There are many stories within this story that has links to many other stories all with different perspectives of the same workshop.
The T.T. process has truly enriched my life. I walk through this journey I am on grateful for all my special whirlpools that stir me up from deep within.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 22, 2009
I have attempted many times to put into words a description of the sequence of events that transpired that day. Nothing I write seems to ring true. I am aware that some words are just not ready to be written as yet, as I struggle with the resistance to write them, hence the healing continues even months later.
Part of the struggle is about wanting to display my words so they clearly speak what I am trying so hard to express. What I need to do is learn “Barack language”, that clear, concise way of weaving words together to inspire all that read me.
Until then, just know that energy shifted and there were many wonderful ah ha moments of awareness throughout the day.
I seized the moment and made the choice to practice what we teach, to honor myself and what I needed. Instead of me doing the upcoming demonstration of T.T., I asked to be the one receiving as I had a mild headache. This turned into a rich experience for all, as each of the students were invited to assess what the energy field was like on someone with a headache. It was a rich experience for me as well and I also learned a lot.
Having just received T.T., my deep waters were churning. Wanting to take off and be outside by myself for awhile, I chose instead to sit quietly in my own process as I was observing the students giving each other T.T. I questioned whether it was my stuff or someone else’s or a combination of both. I suspected both, which was confirmed later when we were all sharing. In the moment, I trusted that “this too shall pass”, and it did.
There are many characters in this story, some present and some not. There are many stories within this story that has links to many other stories all with different perspectives of the same workshop.
The T.T. process has truly enriched my life. I walk through this journey I am on grateful for all my special whirlpools that stir me up from deep within.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 22, 2009
LETTER TO ME
Throw me away. Let me go. Clear out the clutter. Give me a break. Haul me out. Give me away. Let me be used for what I was made. Think of the one with creative hands that breathed me, brought me to life. Don’t stick me away, never to see. Enjoy me, use me, let me be seen.
I’ll fit someone, I promise, just give me away. Let me delight both you and me. I’ll do a good job, release me, let go. Spread the wealth and it will flow.
Clean up your act. Clean out your closet’s, your cupboards and draws. Go through your piles, sort through your stuff.
What’s with the near empty toothpaste tube and bottles, the bits and pieces of soap, old toothbrushes, newspapers, magazines and books. So many unused or broken appliances and electronic gizmos, what should I do! Cottage cheese containers, peanut butter jars, coffee and cookie tins, egg cartons, recycled this and recycled that.
Clothes that don’t fit, some old and some new. Old favorites worn out, with no place to go. Some unworn, for they were saved for good. No room left to fit in the closet of life. Shoe’s piled up just in case there’s a need. There’s the newest pair for good, and the every day footwear, and then the pair that’s one step from the curb. There’s one sock from a pair patiently waiting and hoping to be reunited.
What’s that, that I see under the bed. Bits of material, bags full of stuff. Important I’m sure, just can’t remember when or what for.
And what’s with those new towels, pillows and blankets unused, waiting for their day. It’s been 2 years now, so what’s the deal. New toothbrushes lined up waiting their turn, but don’t throw out the old one for it might be needed for something new.
So many tapes, cd’s and books lining the shelves, piled here and there. The programs to learn to write this for you. Emails to read and delete, with some to keep in this file or that. Bills, junk mail, flyers galore! Coupons for this, to be kept just in case.
Clean up your dust, no time to rest. Daily chores that turn into more.
Things to sort out, spring clean from without. Things to sort out, to figure out. Why do I collect, clutter my life. Time to release, no time for peace. I clean out my life to turn a new page. I need to be saved.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 9th, 2009
I’ll fit someone, I promise, just give me away. Let me delight both you and me. I’ll do a good job, release me, let go. Spread the wealth and it will flow.
Clean up your act. Clean out your closet’s, your cupboards and draws. Go through your piles, sort through your stuff.
What’s with the near empty toothpaste tube and bottles, the bits and pieces of soap, old toothbrushes, newspapers, magazines and books. So many unused or broken appliances and electronic gizmos, what should I do! Cottage cheese containers, peanut butter jars, coffee and cookie tins, egg cartons, recycled this and recycled that.
Clothes that don’t fit, some old and some new. Old favorites worn out, with no place to go. Some unworn, for they were saved for good. No room left to fit in the closet of life. Shoe’s piled up just in case there’s a need. There’s the newest pair for good, and the every day footwear, and then the pair that’s one step from the curb. There’s one sock from a pair patiently waiting and hoping to be reunited.
What’s that, that I see under the bed. Bits of material, bags full of stuff. Important I’m sure, just can’t remember when or what for.
And what’s with those new towels, pillows and blankets unused, waiting for their day. It’s been 2 years now, so what’s the deal. New toothbrushes lined up waiting their turn, but don’t throw out the old one for it might be needed for something new.
So many tapes, cd’s and books lining the shelves, piled here and there. The programs to learn to write this for you. Emails to read and delete, with some to keep in this file or that. Bills, junk mail, flyers galore! Coupons for this, to be kept just in case.
Clean up your dust, no time to rest. Daily chores that turn into more.
Things to sort out, spring clean from without. Things to sort out, to figure out. Why do I collect, clutter my life. Time to release, no time for peace. I clean out my life to turn a new page. I need to be saved.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 9th, 2009
DOES WISDOM COME WITH AGE
The flood gates open and I am propelled into this world we are now in. I am tiny and helpless, dependent on others. Gradually growing, starting to explore and expanding my world. I’m comforted knowing my friends are near.
My connection shifts around 4 or 5 and my wisdom begins to fade. Part of me knows this connection is real, the confusion extends from this physical realm that I’m in. At this early age, I begin to realize that there’s a need to conform, for those on this side seemed to have forgotten their connection to this other world of mine. They don’t understand, so it’s easier you see, to let the memories just fade by the wayside.
So losing my wisdom, I continue to grow. This family of mine, here to teach me my lessons and schooling begins. Then through the years a hint here and there, people I meet that just seem so dear. Familiar places and de ja vu moments leave me wondering, have I been here before! Some knowings just click and fit right into place, a comforting truth that just seems to make sense.
This limited me makes choices and decides to take this path or that one leading me back to my home destination, back where I started from, the place of great wisdom where I understood the rhyme and the reason of my being here.
This limited body transforms and grows up, eventually I’ll end up where it begins to give up. Losing its form, dependent on others, I return to the start point where it all began. Then the veil is lifted, awake and aware, I begin to remember this great pool of ‘wisdom’ where I understood, what this classroom was for. With eyes wide open, awake and aware, I graduate from this school of life, back to my home base of knowledge where everything makes sense and the purpose is clear. I rejoice in uniting with those I have traveled with before.
It comforts me to believe this story is true, for it gives purpose to all that I’ve been though. So next time a wise one of 2, 3, 4 or 5 tells you their tales of the other side, sit down and listen, gently nudging them on. Who knows, it just might be real, for they are closer to the source and their souls are still pure. And while I’m still here, let me enjoy the wisdom I gain from the choices I make.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 17th, 2009
My connection shifts around 4 or 5 and my wisdom begins to fade. Part of me knows this connection is real, the confusion extends from this physical realm that I’m in. At this early age, I begin to realize that there’s a need to conform, for those on this side seemed to have forgotten their connection to this other world of mine. They don’t understand, so it’s easier you see, to let the memories just fade by the wayside.
So losing my wisdom, I continue to grow. This family of mine, here to teach me my lessons and schooling begins. Then through the years a hint here and there, people I meet that just seem so dear. Familiar places and de ja vu moments leave me wondering, have I been here before! Some knowings just click and fit right into place, a comforting truth that just seems to make sense.
This limited me makes choices and decides to take this path or that one leading me back to my home destination, back where I started from, the place of great wisdom where I understood the rhyme and the reason of my being here.
This limited body transforms and grows up, eventually I’ll end up where it begins to give up. Losing its form, dependent on others, I return to the start point where it all began. Then the veil is lifted, awake and aware, I begin to remember this great pool of ‘wisdom’ where I understood, what this classroom was for. With eyes wide open, awake and aware, I graduate from this school of life, back to my home base of knowledge where everything makes sense and the purpose is clear. I rejoice in uniting with those I have traveled with before.
It comforts me to believe this story is true, for it gives purpose to all that I’ve been though. So next time a wise one of 2, 3, 4 or 5 tells you their tales of the other side, sit down and listen, gently nudging them on. Who knows, it just might be real, for they are closer to the source and their souls are still pure. And while I’m still here, let me enjoy the wisdom I gain from the choices I make.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 17th, 2009
CHANGING WORLDS
Lessons learned along the way, filed for a later day. Some forgotten in required moment’s only to surface after their need. The list we take for granted is long.
The electric kettle that didn’t work, what do I do? I really wanted that cup of hot tea. Thank God for my husband who kindly reminded me, that my mother would probably have boiled a pot of water on top of the stove.
All bundled up, freezing to death, no heat in the jeep because it had a summer thermostat. Once inside at our destination, telling our story, here is the question, “Why didn’t you just put cardboard in front of the radiator”?
There was a time I wouldn’t have believed, I could put a plastic card in a hole in the wall and get money out.
Black and white T.V’s with rabbit ears, then to color with cable or satellite, then the advent of the remote control we can’t do without, all soon to be changed to digital.
Party line phones, operator operated. What was your ring, 1 long and 2 short! Black rotary dial phones became the in thing. Then along came the push button, colors and all. Then cordless and cell phones, blue ray and all. Satellite connections, free computer long distance, picture and all.
Cars of the day, collector classic’s today.
Camera’s with film, 120, 110 then 35 mm and Polaroid Instants, movie camera’s with reels played on projectors on white screens. Slide shows too, along the way. Then video camera’s with video tapes shown on VCR machines connected to TV’s. Digital camera’s for pictures and movies connected to computers for instant sharing with friends around the world. Cell phones that take pictures and movies too, with oodles of functions and that make phone calls too.
Wright brothers fly into the sky. Now airbuses taking us to where we have to be. Then the space travel and soon the moon landing.
We have seen so much. So many products we didn’t need, till the advertisers told us, we mustn’t do without.
Listen and learn from your ancestors well, for they have many stories, so much to tell.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 10, 2009
The electric kettle that didn’t work, what do I do? I really wanted that cup of hot tea. Thank God for my husband who kindly reminded me, that my mother would probably have boiled a pot of water on top of the stove.
All bundled up, freezing to death, no heat in the jeep because it had a summer thermostat. Once inside at our destination, telling our story, here is the question, “Why didn’t you just put cardboard in front of the radiator”?
There was a time I wouldn’t have believed, I could put a plastic card in a hole in the wall and get money out.
Black and white T.V’s with rabbit ears, then to color with cable or satellite, then the advent of the remote control we can’t do without, all soon to be changed to digital.
Party line phones, operator operated. What was your ring, 1 long and 2 short! Black rotary dial phones became the in thing. Then along came the push button, colors and all. Then cordless and cell phones, blue ray and all. Satellite connections, free computer long distance, picture and all.
Cars of the day, collector classic’s today.
Camera’s with film, 120, 110 then 35 mm and Polaroid Instants, movie camera’s with reels played on projectors on white screens. Slide shows too, along the way. Then video camera’s with video tapes shown on VCR machines connected to TV’s. Digital camera’s for pictures and movies connected to computers for instant sharing with friends around the world. Cell phones that take pictures and movies too, with oodles of functions and that make phone calls too.
Wright brothers fly into the sky. Now airbuses taking us to where we have to be. Then the space travel and soon the moon landing.
We have seen so much. So many products we didn’t need, till the advertisers told us, we mustn’t do without.
Listen and learn from your ancestors well, for they have many stories, so much to tell.
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 10, 2009
CANADIAN STORY
My Canadian story is one that starts in the United States. Last winter, I was engaged in a conversation at a RV resort in California.
I am not sure how, but we must have started talking about 9/11. I voiced the question that I have always wondered about, “If it was unsafe for planes to land on American soil, why was it okay for them to be diverted to Canadian airports to land and on who’s authority?” Imagine my shock, to hear the Americans say, “they did?” I was dumb struck. What did they think happened to all those planes? I am still shaking my head.
I found lots of excellent stories on the internet about Gander, Newfoundland, population 10,000, where 39 heavy aircraft landed, accommodating 6,600 diverted passengers for 5 days. It was 30 hours later by the time passengers from the last plane had been processed by the 4 Canadian Customs and Immigration officers.
Eventually I found more answers at www.freedomvillage.net/thankyoucanada.htm where I learned that within 45 minutes, a total of 224 planes with 33,000 passengers started landing at 17 airports across Canada.
Transport Canada activated its Situation Centre (SitCen) in Ottawa, a state of the art facility designed to provide emergency response where the decisions were made for Operation Yellow Ribbon.
I am not sure how, but we must have started talking about 9/11. I voiced the question that I have always wondered about, “If it was unsafe for planes to land on American soil, why was it okay for them to be diverted to Canadian airports to land and on who’s authority?” Imagine my shock, to hear the Americans say, “they did?” I was dumb struck. What did they think happened to all those planes? I am still shaking my head.
I found lots of excellent stories on the internet about Gander, Newfoundland, population 10,000, where 39 heavy aircraft landed, accommodating 6,600 diverted passengers for 5 days. It was 30 hours later by the time passengers from the last plane had been processed by the 4 Canadian Customs and Immigration officers.
Eventually I found more answers at www.freedomvillage.net/thankyoucanada.htm where I learned that within 45 minutes, a total of 224 planes with 33,000 passengers started landing at 17 airports across Canada.
Transport Canada activated its Situation Centre (SitCen) in Ottawa, a state of the art facility designed to provide emergency response where the decisions were made for Operation Yellow Ribbon.
AS THE YEARS GO BY
Aging depends on where you are at.
There is the single digits where the months count too, or the years where the ¼, the ½ and the ¾ is so important.
Wishing for 5, for kindergarten to start. Then 6 for grade school. 13 designates that now I’m a teen. 16 mean’s I can drive.
Wishing, wishing the years away. Never heeding mom’s words, how the years will go faster the older you get. When she turned 40, I thought she was ancient.
18, now an adult. One milestone I missed was 21, to be legal to drink. They changed legal age 3 months before. Now 21, was when I got carded.
25 was huge, a ¼ of a century seemed like a hell of a long time. Then there was 40, not old after all. I decided to celebrate all year long, getting around to doing all those “I’d like to do that some day” things.
50 marks the ½ century mark. At 55, 62 or 65 senior discounts depending on which restaurant you are in. And monthly seniors movies to be enjoyed too.
This year will be 60, collecting C.P.P.
Then 65, well you know the rest. No sense in speeding up the process, for just like mom said, “The years go by faster, the older you get.”
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 10, 2009
There is the single digits where the months count too, or the years where the ¼, the ½ and the ¾ is so important.
Wishing for 5, for kindergarten to start. Then 6 for grade school. 13 designates that now I’m a teen. 16 mean’s I can drive.
Wishing, wishing the years away. Never heeding mom’s words, how the years will go faster the older you get. When she turned 40, I thought she was ancient.
18, now an adult. One milestone I missed was 21, to be legal to drink. They changed legal age 3 months before. Now 21, was when I got carded.
25 was huge, a ¼ of a century seemed like a hell of a long time. Then there was 40, not old after all. I decided to celebrate all year long, getting around to doing all those “I’d like to do that some day” things.
50 marks the ½ century mark. At 55, 62 or 65 senior discounts depending on which restaurant you are in. And monthly seniors movies to be enjoyed too.
This year will be 60, collecting C.P.P.
Then 65, well you know the rest. No sense in speeding up the process, for just like mom said, “The years go by faster, the older you get.”
By Lynn Keeling
Feb 10, 2009
READY FOR MY DAY
The grain’s of sound begin to drift into my awareness. Slowly, I begin to notice the world around me. Somewhere between that deep sleep state I was in and the fully awake moment when I jump out of bed full of energy, ready to conquer the world.
I vaguely remember a dream, “What was it about”?, I ask myself. I wonder if I have time to turn over for just 10 minutes more sleep. So I turn over and cuddle into my comforter.
The next thing I remember is hearing the clatter of the garbage cans being hauled to the curb. Startled, wondering how long I have been asleep, I jump out of bed. 10 minutes, I notice as I glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Stretching, trying to work out the kinks as I take a few deep breathes, I head into my day.
And what a day it will be. All the plans have been made. Everything is in place, details attended to. I have done everything I could possibly do, time to turn everything over to those I have hired and just enjoy myself.
Following the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, I skip down the stairs two at a time and I run right into Jane. Resisting the temptation to ask her how everything is going, I chirp a cheery “good morning, beautiful day isn’t it!” as I continue on into the kitchen.
Giving Maria a good morning peck on the cheek, I pour myself a steamy hot cup of Columbian coffee. I continue on, strolling out the sliding glass doors and down the steps of the classic balcony. My bare feet tickled by the coolness of the soft grasses as I walk towards the rose garden. I am soon surrounded by rose bushes of every description and color. Vibrant, brilliant reds of every shade, soft mellow pinks and an array of sparkling hues of yellows through to that soft peachy salmon color, with a backdrop of leaves and foliage in every shade of green imaginable.
I am lead out of this most magnificent rose garden as I follow the hippy hop of a small rabbit dressed in the smooth softness of his gray furry coat. He turns his head to make sure I am still with him, as we reach a bend on our path of silky smooth cobblestones warmed by the sun that is shining down upon us. He beckons me to go first, as he wants to see my reaction to this sacred place he has brought me to. It is vaguely familiar, for I have been here 9 times before.
The vista before me goes on forever, far beyond what the eyes can see. Every season is depicted in its own unique elegance. There are bare tree branches sparkling with raindrop diamonds frozen in place. A breath of fresh air breathes life with the sounds of the leaves swirling as I hear them crunching beneath my feet. I feel the contrast from the warmth of the stones to the coolness of the leaves I now walk on.
Transforming before me, the bare winter branches of the trees sprout green buds of new growth. In moments the lime green of the newness transforms to the rich darker shades of maturity. Flowers blossom around me. The air is fragrant with the new growth scents transforming into the aroma of full growth. In the distance the snow capped mountains sparkle to life and I am magically transported to their majestic heights as I now look down on all that surrounds me.
Enjoying the cold slippery wetness of the snow beneath my feet, I hear the sounds of songs being sung, a great celebration in process coming from the cave up ahead. The joyful sounds lead me deeper into the darkness. The walls press in against me. My body is nourished by the comfortable surroundings I am in.
I am ready to begin my day, as I am pushed along by the waves. Greeted by the newness that surrounds me, as loving hands welcome me into their world, joyously my new life begins.
Lynn Keeling
Feb 23, 2009
I vaguely remember a dream, “What was it about”?, I ask myself. I wonder if I have time to turn over for just 10 minutes more sleep. So I turn over and cuddle into my comforter.
The next thing I remember is hearing the clatter of the garbage cans being hauled to the curb. Startled, wondering how long I have been asleep, I jump out of bed. 10 minutes, I notice as I glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Stretching, trying to work out the kinks as I take a few deep breathes, I head into my day.
And what a day it will be. All the plans have been made. Everything is in place, details attended to. I have done everything I could possibly do, time to turn everything over to those I have hired and just enjoy myself.
Following the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, I skip down the stairs two at a time and I run right into Jane. Resisting the temptation to ask her how everything is going, I chirp a cheery “good morning, beautiful day isn’t it!” as I continue on into the kitchen.
Giving Maria a good morning peck on the cheek, I pour myself a steamy hot cup of Columbian coffee. I continue on, strolling out the sliding glass doors and down the steps of the classic balcony. My bare feet tickled by the coolness of the soft grasses as I walk towards the rose garden. I am soon surrounded by rose bushes of every description and color. Vibrant, brilliant reds of every shade, soft mellow pinks and an array of sparkling hues of yellows through to that soft peachy salmon color, with a backdrop of leaves and foliage in every shade of green imaginable.
I am lead out of this most magnificent rose garden as I follow the hippy hop of a small rabbit dressed in the smooth softness of his gray furry coat. He turns his head to make sure I am still with him, as we reach a bend on our path of silky smooth cobblestones warmed by the sun that is shining down upon us. He beckons me to go first, as he wants to see my reaction to this sacred place he has brought me to. It is vaguely familiar, for I have been here 9 times before.
The vista before me goes on forever, far beyond what the eyes can see. Every season is depicted in its own unique elegance. There are bare tree branches sparkling with raindrop diamonds frozen in place. A breath of fresh air breathes life with the sounds of the leaves swirling as I hear them crunching beneath my feet. I feel the contrast from the warmth of the stones to the coolness of the leaves I now walk on.
Transforming before me, the bare winter branches of the trees sprout green buds of new growth. In moments the lime green of the newness transforms to the rich darker shades of maturity. Flowers blossom around me. The air is fragrant with the new growth scents transforming into the aroma of full growth. In the distance the snow capped mountains sparkle to life and I am magically transported to their majestic heights as I now look down on all that surrounds me.
Enjoying the cold slippery wetness of the snow beneath my feet, I hear the sounds of songs being sung, a great celebration in process coming from the cave up ahead. The joyful sounds lead me deeper into the darkness. The walls press in against me. My body is nourished by the comfortable surroundings I am in.
I am ready to begin my day, as I am pushed along by the waves. Greeted by the newness that surrounds me, as loving hands welcome me into their world, joyously my new life begins.
Lynn Keeling
Feb 23, 2009
ANGEL IN THE FORM OF A FRIEND
ANGEL IN THE FORM OF A FRIEND
DIALOGUE: n. – a conversation involving two or more persons. A conversation passage in a literary work.
Different Methods using dialogue in writing stories:
- as people having a conversation
- a description followed by a character speaking words pertaining to that description
Different Types of dialogue:
- words spoken out loud between 2 characters (SAID)
- Percy got down on one knee and proposed “ Katie, will you be my wife? ” Katie was so relieved and lovingly replied, “ oh you silly goose, of course I will.”
- thoughts in a characters head / internal self talk (negative or positive) (UNSAID)
- “I wonder what’s wrong with Percy, he seems so tense. Did I do something wrong? Is he mad at me?”
Misunderstanding / miscommunication
- pink elephants that never get talked about / addressed but that everyone sees.
MY ANGEL IN THE FORM OF A FRIEND
My daily radiation treatments were coming to an end. I had made it through the original 25 treatments, only to be told that they had added another 5 side to side treatments which required another mapping session and more tattoos. Then, one day the radiology technician gave me an appointment card for a Selectron Obturator Insertion and a brochure explaining the procedure. Isolated and alone, I would have to lie perfectly still in a hospital bed in a lead lined hospital room for 4 hours while being hooked up to a computerized machine that would shoot radioactive pellets into me. If I needed to move, I would have to ring for a nurse who would have to shut the machine off before she could come into the room to assist me, making sure the Obturator device stayed in the correct position. I was scared and angry. I felt I had been blind sided. No one had ever mentioned this procedure to me before. It was a complete surprise.
Now, you’d think I would be used to surprises by now. After all, I never knew the time of my next day’s appointment until the end of that day’s treatment session when I got my appointment card back. Early on I had asked not to be scheduled on Monday or Thursday mornings from 10 – 11:30, as I wanted to attend the relaxation groups. They did a magnificent job accommodating me, booking my treatments before or after the groups, even telling me a couple times when they were running behind schedule, to go to the relaxation group then to come back afterwards.
All the thoughts in my head, that dialogue with myself, goes unheard. “Why me? How could the doctors do this to me? I don’t like surprises. They should have warned me, given me a choice – a right to say yes or no. I am a person, not a cow following the rest of the herd, no questions asked. What would happen if I didn’t do it? Would I be okay? Do I really need it? Would the cancer come back if I didn’t? Would I die because I didn’t? What am I going to do?”
I was bursting at the seams, no one to talk to. We were all trying to take care of each others feelings, trying to make things easier for others at the expense of ourselves. In this atmosphere of fear, the truth goes unsaid. Just when I needed it most, an angel came to my rescue in the form of my friend, Karen. She had met me at the cancer clinic that day to attend the relaxation group and had insisted on driving me home.
I began telling her about the upcoming procedure. When I finished explaining it to her she said, “ I’m glad you only need a 4 hour session”
I was so relieved. I suddenly felt lucky, I could survive 4 hours. I was grateful, if other people could endure up to 24 hours, I could do a mere 4 hours. I remember excitedly saying, “Thank you so much, that really makes me feel better.”
Because she was busy driving, I guess she didn’t see how relieved I was. For weeks, I told everyone how helpful what Karen said had been. It got me to and through the procedure with flying colors.
The next time I saw Karen, she gingerly asked me “Are you still mad at me?” Turned out she had been avoiding me believing what I had said in the car was in anger. A total misunderstanding, a huge gap in communication. I had no idea. She was so relieved to hear how much her words had helped me. Now she was feeling guilty for avoiding me.
I don’t know if she ever really understood what a gift she was to me in the moment. A real angel on earth, magically appearing just when I needed her the most.
By Lynn Keeling Feb 20, 2009
DIALOGUE: n. – a conversation involving two or more persons. A conversation passage in a literary work.
Different Methods using dialogue in writing stories:
- as people having a conversation
- a description followed by a character speaking words pertaining to that description
Different Types of dialogue:
- words spoken out loud between 2 characters (SAID)
- Percy got down on one knee and proposed “ Katie, will you be my wife? ” Katie was so relieved and lovingly replied, “ oh you silly goose, of course I will.”
- thoughts in a characters head / internal self talk (negative or positive) (UNSAID)
- “I wonder what’s wrong with Percy, he seems so tense. Did I do something wrong? Is he mad at me?”
Misunderstanding / miscommunication
- pink elephants that never get talked about / addressed but that everyone sees.
MY ANGEL IN THE FORM OF A FRIEND
My daily radiation treatments were coming to an end. I had made it through the original 25 treatments, only to be told that they had added another 5 side to side treatments which required another mapping session and more tattoos. Then, one day the radiology technician gave me an appointment card for a Selectron Obturator Insertion and a brochure explaining the procedure. Isolated and alone, I would have to lie perfectly still in a hospital bed in a lead lined hospital room for 4 hours while being hooked up to a computerized machine that would shoot radioactive pellets into me. If I needed to move, I would have to ring for a nurse who would have to shut the machine off before she could come into the room to assist me, making sure the Obturator device stayed in the correct position. I was scared and angry. I felt I had been blind sided. No one had ever mentioned this procedure to me before. It was a complete surprise.
Now, you’d think I would be used to surprises by now. After all, I never knew the time of my next day’s appointment until the end of that day’s treatment session when I got my appointment card back. Early on I had asked not to be scheduled on Monday or Thursday mornings from 10 – 11:30, as I wanted to attend the relaxation groups. They did a magnificent job accommodating me, booking my treatments before or after the groups, even telling me a couple times when they were running behind schedule, to go to the relaxation group then to come back afterwards.
All the thoughts in my head, that dialogue with myself, goes unheard. “Why me? How could the doctors do this to me? I don’t like surprises. They should have warned me, given me a choice – a right to say yes or no. I am a person, not a cow following the rest of the herd, no questions asked. What would happen if I didn’t do it? Would I be okay? Do I really need it? Would the cancer come back if I didn’t? Would I die because I didn’t? What am I going to do?”
I was bursting at the seams, no one to talk to. We were all trying to take care of each others feelings, trying to make things easier for others at the expense of ourselves. In this atmosphere of fear, the truth goes unsaid. Just when I needed it most, an angel came to my rescue in the form of my friend, Karen. She had met me at the cancer clinic that day to attend the relaxation group and had insisted on driving me home.
I began telling her about the upcoming procedure. When I finished explaining it to her she said, “ I’m glad you only need a 4 hour session”
I was so relieved. I suddenly felt lucky, I could survive 4 hours. I was grateful, if other people could endure up to 24 hours, I could do a mere 4 hours. I remember excitedly saying, “Thank you so much, that really makes me feel better.”
Because she was busy driving, I guess she didn’t see how relieved I was. For weeks, I told everyone how helpful what Karen said had been. It got me to and through the procedure with flying colors.
The next time I saw Karen, she gingerly asked me “Are you still mad at me?” Turned out she had been avoiding me believing what I had said in the car was in anger. A total misunderstanding, a huge gap in communication. I had no idea. She was so relieved to hear how much her words had helped me. Now she was feeling guilty for avoiding me.
I don’t know if she ever really understood what a gift she was to me in the moment. A real angel on earth, magically appearing just when I needed her the most.
By Lynn Keeling Feb 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Looking For Words
I was born in Canada, Calgary, AB to be exact. My parents were also Canadian born. My dad’s parents were from England and my mom’s dad was from Holland and her mom was from France. The only language we grew up with was English.
English and French being the 2 official languages of Canada, French classes were a required course in school in the 1960’s. I never did excel because I was afraid that I would embarrass myself by mispronouncing words and end up swearing or something. I don’t remember much and have never had the need to use French. Well, there was that time Ket and I were trying to chat up the cute guy on the train from Toronto to Quebec City, only to discover that he spoke English too as we were leaving the train. We had talked quite a bit about the guy believing him when he said “no Anglais, Parle vous Francias?”
That reminds me of walking to school with Donalee one day talking about the advantages of being a male when riding horses, not noticing the group of boys walking behind us. Embarrassing moments, now there’s a topic to write about. But, I digress.
We were taught Parisian French in school, which didn’t make sense to me. Shouldn’t we have learnt French Canadian so we could communicate with our fellow countrymen?
English, where did it come from? What’s its origin? Did you ever wonder ‘why salt is called salt and not pepper’? And vice versa. I did in my teenage years.
English, a language I just accepted even when questions arouse. A language I took for granted.
By the 3rd page of ‘A’s in the dictionary, I decided that this wasn’t going to be the best way to find the words I was looking for. Thinking that somewhere, someone else has already done the work, it must be on the internet. What do I search for! I remember that there is a word, a proper term for this group of words. That much I remember from my school days.
So I google “same word different meaning” and get 234,000,000 results in .24 seconds. Now where do I start, is there an end!
I rediscover that there are different categories. Heteronyms – different sound, same spelling like ‘a tear in my coat caused me to tear up’. Homonyms – same sound and spelling like ‘the actor took a bow on the bow of the ship’.
It is not only the words we take for granted, but also the mystery of our brain that deciphers the words. How does that work! We can even decipher words when the letters are all jumbled up as long as the 1st and last letters are right.
And don’t even get me started on text messaging – a whole new language evolving where the letters ‘c’ and ‘u’ mean ‘see you’ and ‘lol’ means ‘laughing out loud’ and well, that’s a topic for another story.
We know a lot about the human brain. Scientists have it mapped and labeled. As much as we understand, there is still more to discover. What is it that makes some of us jumble up our letters and numbers, or stutter! With so many life memories to remember, where is the room to store all that information in the filing cabinets of our brain! Why are some memories locked away unable to be retrieved! How does a word, phrase, event, date or emotion trigger a flood of past memories. Where is the connection!
Our brain knows instantly without conscious effort whether the word is ‘read’ or ‘read’, ‘lead’ or ‘lead’, ‘bow’ or ‘bow’, ‘bass’ or ‘bass’, ‘dove’ or ‘dove’, ‘live’ or ‘live’, ‘polish’ or ‘Polish’, ‘tear’ or ‘tear’, ‘wind’ or ‘wind’, ‘wound’ or ‘wound’, ‘ and so on.
And if I couldn’t master French as a second language, how did I ever learn a strange, complex, and illogical language like English! I wonder how to explain what the right answer is when someone asks me what the meaning of a word is!
Writers search for just the right word combinations. Words that will paint the masterpiece they intend. Those magical words that will transport the reader to discovering the treasures that they are working to display.
So many more questions to explore. Do people that can sing also have a better ear for languages! And abbreviations, yet another topic to write about.
I went back to the first 3 pages of the dictionary again to count the words. Out of the 110 “A” words, I counted maybe 16 that I have used over the last few years and over half that I don’t even know, never heard of before.
English, a language that lets us function in our daily lives when only using a small portion of the words that exist.
And if we had only known that these days, it would have been more of an advantage to have learnt Chinese instead of French.
English and French being the 2 official languages of Canada, French classes were a required course in school in the 1960’s. I never did excel because I was afraid that I would embarrass myself by mispronouncing words and end up swearing or something. I don’t remember much and have never had the need to use French. Well, there was that time Ket and I were trying to chat up the cute guy on the train from Toronto to Quebec City, only to discover that he spoke English too as we were leaving the train. We had talked quite a bit about the guy believing him when he said “no Anglais, Parle vous Francias?”
That reminds me of walking to school with Donalee one day talking about the advantages of being a male when riding horses, not noticing the group of boys walking behind us. Embarrassing moments, now there’s a topic to write about. But, I digress.
We were taught Parisian French in school, which didn’t make sense to me. Shouldn’t we have learnt French Canadian so we could communicate with our fellow countrymen?
English, where did it come from? What’s its origin? Did you ever wonder ‘why salt is called salt and not pepper’? And vice versa. I did in my teenage years.
English, a language I just accepted even when questions arouse. A language I took for granted.
By the 3rd page of ‘A’s in the dictionary, I decided that this wasn’t going to be the best way to find the words I was looking for. Thinking that somewhere, someone else has already done the work, it must be on the internet. What do I search for! I remember that there is a word, a proper term for this group of words. That much I remember from my school days.
So I google “same word different meaning” and get 234,000,000 results in .24 seconds. Now where do I start, is there an end!
I rediscover that there are different categories. Heteronyms – different sound, same spelling like ‘a tear in my coat caused me to tear up’. Homonyms – same sound and spelling like ‘the actor took a bow on the bow of the ship’.
It is not only the words we take for granted, but also the mystery of our brain that deciphers the words. How does that work! We can even decipher words when the letters are all jumbled up as long as the 1st and last letters are right.
And don’t even get me started on text messaging – a whole new language evolving where the letters ‘c’ and ‘u’ mean ‘see you’ and ‘lol’ means ‘laughing out loud’ and well, that’s a topic for another story.
We know a lot about the human brain. Scientists have it mapped and labeled. As much as we understand, there is still more to discover. What is it that makes some of us jumble up our letters and numbers, or stutter! With so many life memories to remember, where is the room to store all that information in the filing cabinets of our brain! Why are some memories locked away unable to be retrieved! How does a word, phrase, event, date or emotion trigger a flood of past memories. Where is the connection!
Our brain knows instantly without conscious effort whether the word is ‘read’ or ‘read’, ‘lead’ or ‘lead’, ‘bow’ or ‘bow’, ‘bass’ or ‘bass’, ‘dove’ or ‘dove’, ‘live’ or ‘live’, ‘polish’ or ‘Polish’, ‘tear’ or ‘tear’, ‘wind’ or ‘wind’, ‘wound’ or ‘wound’, ‘ and so on.
And if I couldn’t master French as a second language, how did I ever learn a strange, complex, and illogical language like English! I wonder how to explain what the right answer is when someone asks me what the meaning of a word is!
Writers search for just the right word combinations. Words that will paint the masterpiece they intend. Those magical words that will transport the reader to discovering the treasures that they are working to display.
So many more questions to explore. Do people that can sing also have a better ear for languages! And abbreviations, yet another topic to write about.
I went back to the first 3 pages of the dictionary again to count the words. Out of the 110 “A” words, I counted maybe 16 that I have used over the last few years and over half that I don’t even know, never heard of before.
English, a language that lets us function in our daily lives when only using a small portion of the words that exist.
And if we had only known that these days, it would have been more of an advantage to have learnt Chinese instead of French.
Landscape of Therapeutic Touch
Picture this. I am standing quietly with my eyes closed holding the palms of my hands a few inches apart. I am aware of the rhythm of my breathing. Consciously I deepen my in-breath, breathing in the sturdy strength of the tree image I pretend to be, with roots reaching down into the earth. And on the out breath, releasing into the earth all that I do not need in the moment. Relaxing and letting go.
The sound of my breathing comforts me. I feel the soft breeze of my breath on my skin beneath my nostrils. I feel the space within my body expand as my breath fills me. I feel whole and at peace. Connected. My thoughts have all but vanished. Man made clock time is transcended. I am in the moment.
The space between my palms feels like a beach ball of energy. Grounded and centered, I am ready to reach out and explore the realms of the energy field I have been invited to explore.
I open my eyes and raise my hands to scan a few inches above my client’s physical body noticing differences, little speed bumps that I will come back to. I use my thought mind, imagining the person being grounded to the earth as I hold their feet. Again, I slowly gently rhythmically wave my hands above their body. This time my thought is of unruffling, smoothing out the speed bumps. This energy dance of offering the healing universal energy that surrounds us continues, my hands drawn to where they are needed.
Scanning again, my hands glide through the energy field checking the flow. All the while I am listening to those intuitive nudges, colors or images that pop into my mind. I trust the flow of the bigger picture. I am anchored in the present moment of time. An intuitive sense to end comes when the work is done.
Finishing off by grounding again, I step back as I honor the client’s ability to continue their healing work. I encourage them to rest awhile.
Eventually we are both pulled back into the man made time realm we live in. We share our experience with each other often marveling at the similarities. I am humbled and grateful and feel truly blessed to be a part of such an intimate connection. The landscape of my being has been truly changed by the experience.
Lynn Keeling
Jan. 19/09
The sound of my breathing comforts me. I feel the soft breeze of my breath on my skin beneath my nostrils. I feel the space within my body expand as my breath fills me. I feel whole and at peace. Connected. My thoughts have all but vanished. Man made clock time is transcended. I am in the moment.
The space between my palms feels like a beach ball of energy. Grounded and centered, I am ready to reach out and explore the realms of the energy field I have been invited to explore.
I open my eyes and raise my hands to scan a few inches above my client’s physical body noticing differences, little speed bumps that I will come back to. I use my thought mind, imagining the person being grounded to the earth as I hold their feet. Again, I slowly gently rhythmically wave my hands above their body. This time my thought is of unruffling, smoothing out the speed bumps. This energy dance of offering the healing universal energy that surrounds us continues, my hands drawn to where they are needed.
Scanning again, my hands glide through the energy field checking the flow. All the while I am listening to those intuitive nudges, colors or images that pop into my mind. I trust the flow of the bigger picture. I am anchored in the present moment of time. An intuitive sense to end comes when the work is done.
Finishing off by grounding again, I step back as I honor the client’s ability to continue their healing work. I encourage them to rest awhile.
Eventually we are both pulled back into the man made time realm we live in. We share our experience with each other often marveling at the similarities. I am humbled and grateful and feel truly blessed to be a part of such an intimate connection. The landscape of my being has been truly changed by the experience.
Lynn Keeling
Jan. 19/09
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)