Posted in Andshelaughs, Anxiety and Depression, Art of LIving, Creative Life, Fearless Living, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Middle Age, Midlife, Mindful Living, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living

Purpose & Payday – Your Monday Meditation

purpose

Purpose. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot these days, like ‘badass’ and ‘tribe’. I judge people when they level up one notch on the  organically- crafted-hipster-ladder by using this kind of catch-phrase.

I figured out my purpose a long time ago, but it wasn’t until I thought about purpose that I could put it into a fifteen second elevator speech. But let’s face it, fifteen second elevator speeches are for salespeople, not purpose driven folks. I was just thankful that at over 40 years old, I’d been intentional enough to realize what my purpose was.

Purpose is what sustains us, whether we’re aware of it or not.

So here’s a little story from my day at the local holistic healing fair about purpose;

“You’re completely done.” She looked me dead in the eye when she said it. “Just finished with all of it.”

I nodded.

faery magicThree decks of cards later (Faerie, Archangel Michael, Angel) it was confirmed by the powers that be that I was jonesin’ for a complete change of course.

But I already knew those things before I sat down didn’t I? We already know as intuitive beings when what once imbued meaning into our lives has vanished. Validation is nice though, isn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

I wandered down a few more aisles at this holistic healing show, and bumped into a soap maker. Not just any soapmaker, but Momtaz, a third-generation soap maker.

Third-effing-generation…let that sink in.

img_7299

I spent some time (and money) at her booth, and casually asked about her Aleppo soap.  She informed me that it is the oldest soap recipe in the world. She was passionate about her work, she told me all about the properties of the soap, how you could use it on babies with extreme eczema and fragile skin. She was so happy that I was interested in what she was doing that she gifted me a bar, and in turn, I promised her that I would share it with someone who might need it. That’s purpose.

I made my way methodically through the rows of booths. I admired how these (mostly) women were making their purpose pay.

Until now, I’ve been injecting my purpose into every day life. I thought that was satisfying enough, but more and more I’m feeling like it’s not. My job pays, but my purpose only gets to sneak a peak once in a while in the shadow of my career.

Back to the lady who made twenty bucks reading my cards. She was retired from a job similar in nature to my own. She could relate to how bone-tired I am from caring for other people. The twenty dollars she charged was  a small price to pay to be reminded of what I already know I’m meant to be doing.

Whether it ‘s the holistic approach like I tend to take, or the professional approach a la Mike Drak, investing in what we love to do can reap financial rewards later in life.

For many of us, our purpose will have to be injected into our daily grind. And our daily grind will have to include significant time to work on projects that develop our purpose. And this is what will sustain us now, and in the future.

 

Advertisements
Posted in Art of LIving, Food, Food and Wine, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Midlife, Mindful Living, Simple Living, Social Commentary, Society, Soul Food, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Toronto Life, Uncategorized, Whole Living

Farmer’s Markets: Hipster Paradise or Community Refuge?

Twelve dollar nut-milk and dairy-free cheese. Fermented cabbage, kombucha everything and an old shipping container decked out with an energy guzzling refrigerator stocked with locally made craft booze.

It’s a hipster haven, and on the surface, it’s annoying ‘AF’ (as my child’s generation would call it).

It’s the farmer’s market at the Evergreen Brickworks in Toronto. A man-made ‘natural’ oasis in the middle of the city.  The Saturday morning farmer’s market is well-curated, and the food court is pretty damn tempting.

To be quite honest, this market had me at Monforte Dairy and Hinterland Wine.

A country girl at heart, I yearn for my connection to the earth. After all these years, I have to admit, that I can come across as a city girl too, and maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to the bucolic civility of a rustic market just off seconds from the Don Valley Parkway.

Rural life tethers us with  invisible thread, connecting us to seasons, the earth, and the natural order of things. There is comfort in that.  I believe it’s the main reason why, even here in the city, where many children and adults  don’t know how to plant a seed or cultivate a garden or preserve food, that every walk of life  flocks to farmer’s markets.

As pretentious as  all downtown markets seem, they’re a sight better than our lives here in a city where anonymity is sweet, but the bitterness of a community lacking heart overpowers that sweetness. Markets are a small gesture of humanity within the  momentum  of the economic machine that is our lifestyle.

Our food sources connect us to the natural cycles of life, and to the intimate relationship that we have with our physical bodies. Food – the great equalizer. We break bread together as a symbol of opening our minds, hearts and homes to those whom we gather with.

Feeling some connection to that food is life-affirming and spiritual nutrition. Even if it just means it didn’t travel across borders to get here, and we received it from the same hand that harvested it.

If you have yet to make your way to your local farmer’s market this year, I encourage you to do just that. I reminds you where we are within the seasons, the community, and the planet as a whole.

Posted in Andshelaughs, Art of LIving, Creative Life, Fearless Living, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Middle Age, Midlife, Mindful Living, Perspective, Seasons, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living

My Summer Fling

plum pitEvery summer I have a fling.

The romance starts in the spring. The seduction of the sun after long, dark winter nights always pulls me away from the cozy hibernation of the indoors.  My clothing gets lighter, I show more skin, and turn my back to anything that pulls me away from the fullness of his attention.

The house becomes a forgotten locker room.  I bathe, change, and sleep inside, feeling that each moment is wasted away from the splendid beauty of the summer.  Spending time away from the fresh air and wildness of summer pains me. My patio becomes the breakfast nook, living room and dining room.  I lose track of time, and weekends blur into the workweek, each sunny morning a painful reminder that at some point I have to steal myself away from the embrace of my May-September lover, interact with other people and for-god’s-sake-put-on-some-decent-clothes.

Increasingly nostalgia blossoms into a familiar yearning for the type of countryside wildness into which I was born. A sensuality city-folk only ever glimpse but never fully appreciate; picking wild raspberries by the roadside, climbing ancient, gnarled mulberry trees to acquire enough fruit to bake something delicious, finding wild strawberries in the grass, and falling asleep with the window open in the dark nights that the city can never know.

My home turns into a bit of a museum in the summertime. Even though autumn is a time of slow decay, it has always signaled a fresh start. A renewal of routine and return to the warmth of home. And so endeth my summertime affair every year. Slowly I come back to preserving the harvest,  decluttering all that was dropped and forgotten as the sun seduced the household outdoors.

Summer affairs allow you to sip the sweet, sweet, nectar from the cup of life, but there is something to be said to waiving good-bye and coming back home.

Posted in Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Art of LIving, Creative Life, Fearless Living, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Men's Health, Men's Issues, Mens' Issues, Mental Health, Midlife, Mindful Living, Personal Development, Professional Women, Self-Care, Self-Help, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, Sprititual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, women, Women's Issues, Women's Rights, Working Women

Monthly Planner

Today while connecting with my lovelies on Instagram, this post caught my eye and made me stop what I was doing.

I used to be religious about keeping a day planner.

As a matter of fact, I took pride in documenting every single thing that I did of note so that it could be neatly tucked away, ink on paper, in the same type of  tidy journal that my grandfather kept, and then filed neatly on the same shelf that housed his journals during his old-age.

During trying times, I made a conscious effort to ensure that all my needs were met in order to stay healthy; emotional, physical, spiritual, social and intellectual. I made time for at least one hour of an activity, or get-together (per week) that was intended to satisfy each of those needs in my life.

journals

 

And then suddenly, without much thought, the ease of carrying every tidbit of my life on my portable phone took over. Instead of having my month laid out for me, I tend to look at days, and then parts of days so that I can manage my job, my business, my home and my social life in bits and pieces. Because I no longer look at a bigger picture timeline, I have felt myself slide into a schedule that is running me, and not the other way around.

Today an Instagram post caught my eye and reminded me of all of what I’ve just said. And of course, I thought that it was a damn good idea to get back my old way of scheduling what can only be called, time for joy.

I’m looking forward to recommitting to my relationships and self-care. I hope that this little social media gem is as helpful to you as it has been to me.

Now who wants to join me for breakfast in the morning? My treat.

 

Posted in Advice for Women, books, Empty Nest, Feminism, Feminist Culture, Feminists, Girl Stuff, Guy Stuff, Lean In Girl Stuff, Middle Age, Midlife, New Feminism, Personal Development, Professional Women, Social Commentary, Society, The New Feminism, Uncategorized, women, Women's Issues, Women's Rights, Working Women

Are You There God? It’s Me. Where’s Margaret?

itsmemargaretFinding your father’s copy of Playboy. Playing two-minutes-in-the-closet. Wearing a bra for the first time. Buying your first maxi-pads.

Those were all of the things that made 11 year old Margaret Simon’s  character so relatabel in Judy Blume’s  ‘Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret’.

I can’t remember who lent me the book, but I do remember hiding it from my parents and older sister.  Although the book was a decade behind (those girls had to wear belts with their pads),  it was as a staple in my generation’s pre-teen reading diet.  It was our porn.

Wanting to know about my changing body and emotions wasn’t easy. I was shy, a bookworm and a tomboy who was raised in a body-shaming-Baptist family.  Ballsy Margaret who crushed on Phillip and bought her own pads  from a boy cashier, was my hero.

How things have changed.

After having spent my adult years fully loaded up on contraception, today was the day that I would have my Mirena removed. This morning I stood in the drugstore looking at a wall of pads, tampons, and Diva Cups wondering just what the hell I was going to need. I would have loved to have had Margaret’s advice.

croneI no longer need birth control. What I need is to return to my feminine body. To experience the shift from motherhood to new-cronehood with some modicum of respect for the awesome female form that I inhabit.

I am from a generation of women who have been convinced that our natural cycles should be stunted. We are being convinced that unless we want to get pregnant, we need to saddle up on hormones and keep a constant, obedient level of functioning that does not include paying attention to the natural rhythm of our bodies to stop, rest, rage, weep and rejoice. We have been twisted into she-men.

If I could do it all over again, I would do it like a woman, and not try to be the she-man that our you-can-have-it-all-girl-boss-culture would like me to buy into. I would get pregnant again and rejoice in my body. I would revel in my sexuality. I would do so many things differently with regard to my divine feminine.

Much like young Margaret’s character, I’m wondering about what will happen next. Except I’m in my mid-forties.

I’m noticing changes in my body; less firm, more round, a greater comfort with my own self when I look in the mirror after I slip out of my clothes and into the hot bathwater.

I wonder what happened to ballsy, Margaret when she hit forty? I’d sure like to hear from her now.

Posted in 60 Minutes Life, Advice for Men, Advice for Women, Andshelaughs, Art of LIving, Bereavement, Creative Life, Empty Nest, Fearless Living, Fearlessness, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Less Than Five Minutes to Read, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Men's Health, Men's Issues, Mens' Issues, Mental Health, Middle Age, Midlife, Mindful Living, Personal Development, Simple Living, Social Commentary, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, women, Women's Issues, Working Women

Wisdom ‘Four’ The Ages:Soda Makes Your Hair Curly

fun on the beachIt’s been a week.

Ups, downs and all arounds.

Throughout all of it, I realized two things; I’m getting old, and I’m getting  better at the important things.

This week a childhood pal’s hubby died, and a school chum of mine died as well. They were both in their early 40’s. Before you start sending condolences, I want to be clear; neither of these two men were part of my every-day life.  My memories of them are frozen in the past somewhere among forgotten first dates, moonlit teenage-trists on the beach, and making out to Bryan Adams songs. They were pee-your-pants funny, and the kind of people you were happy to spend time with.

I’m a funeral director, so I’m not a stranger to death. But no one is immune to the rattle of mortality when she crosses your path all jangley-chained and staring you in the face with her gaunt eyes .  The death of these two vibrant men was a reminder of how fast joy and enthusiasm can get lost in adulthood.

The takeaway message is clear: enjoy it while you can. Be grateful for what you have, love the people you love without shame and with wild abandon.  Responsibility can include silliness.

Like I mentioned earlier, these things also made me realize that I’m getting better at the important stuff.

Little girl on the playgroundThe best part of my week, besides my own lovely kid at home, was a conversation that I had with a four-year-old-boy at the funeral home where I work. We discussed the benefits and drawbacks of the differnt flavours of birthday cake .We also decided that absolutely nobody is ever too old to order a Happy Meal at McDonalds because the toys are awesome sometimes.  And, at the ripe old age of almost-five, Henry decided that although he thought my hair was pretty, he would take my advise and stay away from drinking soda. That’s the reason I gave him that my hair was so curly (after all, it was the fizz from soda that bubbled all the way up from my stomach and into my head that made it that way). Henry stuck to cranberry juice.

I also dragged my middle-aged-not-a-morning-person-butt out of bed to go to an event that was very important to a beautiful woman whom I work with.  She unveiled a painting that she had been working on for a year, and let me tell you, the joy she experienced today was contagious. Life gets better the more we love other people and the more we listen to our intuition.

Friday night dinner was hosted casually without fuss, with new and old friends around the table. Not once did I wonder if it was all good enough – I relaxed and felt the overwhelming fullness of spirit we are all capable of when we let go of ego and just become present.

The takeaway message is clear: enjoy it while you can. Be grateful for what you have, love the people you love without shame and with wild abandon.  Responsibility can include silliness.  Take time to have conversations about life with four-year-olds. They’ve got this living-life thing all figured out.

Posted in Advice for Women, Art of LIving, Canadian Culture, Canadian Writers, Creative Life, Empty Nest, Fearless Living, Girl Stuff, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Healthy Living, Humor, Humour, Joyful Living, Life, Lifestyle, Living, Meaning of Life, Middle Age, Midlife, Mindful Living, Simple Living, Social Commentary, Spiritual Living, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, women, Women's Issues, Working Women

Mysteries of Mid-Life Revealed: Undies are Over-Rated

undiesIf you follow me on Instagram (andshelaughs1 & pattywaxing), you’re likely a little tired of my June holiday photos.

I spent a week in the great outdoors, enjoying a whole lot of nothing other than some icy cold wine spritzers, a few cocktails, and local craft beer. I spent hours on the dock stretched out in the sunshine reading, and catching up with my man.  We spent every night by the campfire, and slept the deep sleep of those with a clear conscience.

It was languorous and it was blissful.

The other thing that I did this week is set up my new business so that I’m ready to take on the appointments that have been waiting in the wings.  Because this isn’t a have-to, I find myself completely enjoying it!

But tomorrow it’s back to work. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate going in to the office. I like my colleagues, but I’m so over having to do anything.

What I discovered this week, while doing absolutely nothing but what pleased me was this;

  1. Having purpose makes mornings a hell of a lot more easy.
  2. Awareness of purpose isn’t something everyone thinks about.
  3. Self-care does wonders for the quality of my sleep.
  4. Two meals a day are enough with some healthy grazing in between.
  5. I have residual issues regarding housework leftover from my OCD upbringing.
  6. Having a hobby with your partner is necessary for the rainy days.
  7. Life without a kitty-cat isn’t a quality life.
  8. Fresh and local is damn good when it comes to food and wine.
  9. I will always, always, always miss my kiddo when he’s not close to home.
  10. Gratitude is something I need to practice more often so life doesn’t slip by unnoticed.
  11. Undergarments are totally overrated.