Rise Above…

Rise Above post 2   Intense love does not measure, it just gives.

                                                                                                                                 Mother Teresa

It used to bother me as a little girl when someone was angry with me or if someone in school did not like me. I would approach the person whenever I could, determined to make them like me or try to figure out what I had done. It was as if I could not be at peace until I figured it out. But greater still, was the feeling of overwhelming love that canceled out any fear or awkwardness to approach them. As a child, I did not wonder if my actions were appropriate or if I may be crossing over a line. It just felt right, and it felt wrong not to do something about it.

Over the years, the scales that cover the eyes, the wounds that callous the heart, and the mind that is preoccupied with judgments, opinions, and a myriad of other cloaks that supposedly self preserve unknowingly create a chasm between the innocent child and the overanalyzing adult.  Time wears down the bridge between the two a pebble at a time, and a hurt at a time, until the love, still there, ebbs and flows rather than the bright light that once burned in our hearts towards actions we need not have thought twice about. Fortunately, surrounding us in every moment, there are the reminders that the two are still connected.

It is not easy when someone’s words have hurt us, or actions have angered us to the point that we “cut them off” or immediately begin to question the “agendas” of everyone around us. Needless to say, we can find ourselves gradually and eventually behind these bars of suspicion or worse yet, walking a barren land devoid of relationships, no longer willing to try. This is when we must realize we have a choice, to continue to walk through the repetitive and energy draining bitterness or to rise above the sea of life and all that flows within it from a perspective of love.

When I would come home from school crying from an unkind word, or even in later years angry over a situation, my mother would always tell me, “You have to rise above.” The words fell on deaf ears for many years, until finally the meaning took root. It doesn’t matter what the other person is doing or what the circumstance is, it is the power in our hearts to overcome that is important. We always have that choice. While not always easy, the light that we find, and continue to hold out in front of us becomes brighter and brighter the more we let it burn.  Eventually, the scales fall, the wounds heal, the mind rests, and we find our way back over the bridge with a childlike joy and an eagerness to love.

Visit BRIDGES this week for an article by John O’Leary, https://chasingtheperfectmoment.com/bridges/

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Powered by Faith


I am sure it is a great mistake always to know enough to go in when it rains. One may keep snug and dry by such knowledge, but one misses a world of loveliness. –Adeline Knapp

My logic battles with my faith each day.

I have learned a hard lesson this week- a lesson that begs to be seen with eyes of faith and not dismissed by logic. Sometimes what I feel is easiest to sort out with logic becomes the obvious blinder to what is so much greater to see through simple faith. There is the continual illusion that if I approach the difficulties in my life by coloring inside the lines, I will be safe and so will those I love. If I stick to the schedules and do exactly as I “should” be doing the gears will grind throughout the day void of unwanted surprises. How, I ask myself, could I get more off track?

Rains fell in my world this last week, actually literally, but more so metaphorically. I pulled out the umbrellas and tried to shield, not only those around me, but myself as well from the torrential rains. It does not matter what happened, what matters is my jolt from fear. I pray each day my snug little prayer to God asking him to help me let go and to leave everything in the hands of the universe, only to find myself quickly yanking back my concerns with the first clap of thunder.

Throughout the storms as I struggle for my nearest ideas of safety and shelter, I risk missing the first few precious drops of rain and the quenching of my thirst that they offer. Parched and dry from a battle I am not nearly close to winning, I keep running to the safety I assume lies ahead. It is only when I stop, and truly ask for help that an answer begins to dawn upon my horizon. As the sun rises so does the burdens begin to lift and my hidden wings begin to unfurl. I fly freely once again among the carefree joy of knowing that I am not in control. There is a greater power at hand, and while I am graced with wisdom, part of that wisdom is to accept and understand that I do not have to “figure it all out.” But yet, appreciate the overwhelming gratitude that begins to stir in my heart from yet another one of God’s greatest truths being to simply be present in this moment and watch the universe work in all its glory.

So with my fears at bay and my heart a few hundred pounds lighter, I sit in my garden as kind of a victory celebration. My dog snoring beneath the bench I sit on like a 70 lb. bulldozer and my cat taking one of her numerous “cooties-be-gone” baths, I sit quietly as the sun fades in and out around me while the birds fly above with their sweet song- I am blessed with the knowledge that my “logic-verses-faith-battle” has been won at the hands of Christ once more and powered by a force so great.

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In the Arms of “Real” Angels

imagesCAKET5JJ      We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.                         ~Luciano de Crescenzo

No day should ever be passed in our life without knowing that an angel intervened in some small way, nor should it ever go unappreciated. In ways that we cannot always fathom with logic, angels descend like a mist over our darkest moments bringing forth a light that lifts us from the shadows.

A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself gripped in fear and an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I lay there tossing and turning while thoughts battered me with endless accusations and judgment. I felt so alone. While lying there, feeling the weight of the world and knowing I needed sleep, my body would not relax. I remember thinking, “God please just help me get to sleep and let go of whatever has this hold on me” –that is when I heard the first bell softly ring.

My Smartphone is set to let me know whenever I receive a new email. In this case, it is the email that I use for my blog. Whenever the bell rings, I know that some person somewhere in the world has thought enough of my post to “like it” or comment. It was interesting that in the midst of my battle with my own doubts and fears, these “bells” rang  over some word or two that resonated with someone else, somewhere. What’s more interesting is that they continued for the next few minutes, quietly in the night. As I laid there listening, I thought how appropriate that a bell should ring with the small act of kindness and appreciation. I thought of you, the many angels that let me know how much my little blog means to you. Resting in this comfort, my body finally relaxed as I drifted off to sleep.

The blogosphere, the web of soul where we each dare to spin our threads of thought, inspires us to share and reach out in a way a normal meeting in the street might not bare. We only have words and a few pictures in which to reveal ourselves and share what are our passions and joys, but it brings a unique unity.

This post is to thank each and every “special” person who visits my blog. I know how much I enjoy visiting yours. I also want to thank those bloggers who have nominated me for the awards within the last few weeks. It means so much. Please know that for the next couple of weeks I will be a little scarce. I am having to concentrate on finals at school, but I have not forgotten your kind gestures and will accept the awards as soon as I can.

Every time the bell rings-I think of you.

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A Melody to Lift the Soul

Minuscule Moments of Inspiration



The other day I felt like I had walked through an invisible field of melancholy, it clung to me as I made the trip down to the beach with my son. The numbing feeling that life is too hard. I do not wallow for hours in these pastures, the ones of negativity and self-doubt. I am an optimist and know that my internal dialogue needs a positive narrative, as much as I hate to admit it, I am only human after all. I am not a super mum I am someone who takes each day along with the good and the not so good I pick out the good bits, savouring them for days like these. I measure my emotions and assure myself it is only natural to feel down every once in a while.

I sat watching my boy on…

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“People look at me and assume that I am dumb, because I can’t talk”.

This video touched me. It reminds us that there is something greater in all of us, and in this case, this young lady has had to struggle for her “inner voice” to be revealed. Please take a moment to watch the video, if you can. It is worth it.

coaching dreams

“I think the only thing I can say is don’t give up. Your inner voice will find its way out. Mine did”. Carly Fleischmann

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Believe        “It is the era, the climate of our times that limits and shapes our way of being. The climate of our times, our era, determines what we see as being possible, and it determines what we see as being achievable.”                                                        “Altering an Era” by Joan Holmes

Believe that in every breath we inhale a spirit of amazing possibility.

Believe that each breeze that blows by contains the hopes, dreams and wishes of someone just like you.

Believe that the same spirit resides in each and every heart that it touches.

Believe that each flower that blossoms, regardless of its circumstances, manages to reach intuitively for a light even in the absence of the sun.

Believe our world is still filled with awe and wonder even in the midst of strife.

Believe that the stars shine at night not by pre-determination, but by the grace of God.

Believe that we can see past the weaknesses, flaws, frailties and divisions to something far greater.

Believe that no one has the power or can take your power away from you.

Believe that an intimacy exists between us so great that over time we just naturally begin to fill the needs.

Believe that I don’t have to be held in place by where I live, my lifestyle, what you think I am, what I have done, or where I have been nor will I hold you by where you live, your lifestyle, what I think you are, what you have done, or where you have been.

Believe, like children, that each day we wake will be filled with a newness that dances in the invisible background.

Believe that if you are grateful enough for the day you will be left with some piece of wisdom that will last you forever.

Believe, if we can love each other just a little, we can share an understanding that surpasses anything of this world.

Believe that your existence here is a miracle, and it will be.

Believe that nothing is impossible and it won’t be.

This week under Bridges and Essay Closet: One state appointing “Animal Advocates,” and “Celina,” a poem by Richard O’Neill.


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Does a Dream ever Get Old?

20130313_080150    “A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of routine and renews his life through reading new books, traveling to new places, making new friends, taking up new hobbies and adopting new viewpoints.” — Wilfred Peterson

For those of us, a little more mature, I wonder, does a dream ever get old? I came into this world like a cannonball express with ideas and creativity galore. Who would have known the coloring books and stories would have led to blogging, that climbing trees would one day equate to climbing the corporate ladder, and the daredevil bike riding would morph into crazy mornings filled with traffic on the expressway.  I’ve come a long way baby!

The life that continues to live and deal with family, job, health, home, school, highs, lows, joy and pain is a life lived only on the external.  Like snapshots floating erratically around my head throughout the day, my life swings back and forth from one idea to another. In between the swings however, a frame will freeze, and a glimpse of the other world emerges. The world filled with the atoms, the dust, and the particles that we romanticize about, and in the midst, the spirit that’s still sitting there waiting for us to listen. Have we listened lately?

Is there a trail of us all over the place left behind? Well, pick up the gifts, the talents and the heart, dust them off, and try again. When we lose heart, when we lose focus, we have to remember the dream, design its outcome, develop a plan and deliver. Our dreams and future will not just “happen” on its own. We have to create it.

Outside of our box, with its ragged edges and its soft, comfy ideas, is a universe that we can reach into and discover a whole new beginning.  If we reach into this parallel with closed minds and solid ideas about the ways things are, our dreams remain boxed up and unrecognizable. Dreams are not static, they are alive. If we dare to learn something new, explore the times, and take a step forward, we see the dream moves with us in a whole new way. At some point, we may have to re-define it, but it is real and waiting. As we unfold, we embrace the realization that there is no end and no beginning to us, no black, and no white. We are everything in this moment. What gets old is not the dream- but when we fail to dream.

Hope your Easter is filled with wonder, awareness and love!

Under Bridges this week, a special post by Animal Connection. Please see under the “Bridges” tab.

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Opening the Heart-Ringing in the Season

DSC_0734It is Christmas every time you let God love others through you… yes, it is Christmas every time you smile at your brother and offer him your hand.                                               Mother Teresa

With all the hoopla of the world ending on December 21st, 2012-I have to tell you that while I definitely did not want a major catastrophic event-it would have been nice to see at least a little firework. Not the kind of devastation that harms or ends our world, but yet a rushing in of a somewhat sort of spiritual tide sparking a new beginning for all life on earth. It was then that I realized the flame internally was what needed to ignite.

To me, Christmas is not a holiday, but a state of mind and an opening of heart. It reminds me of the conduit that flows throughout each life and joins us as one and for one magical season of the year-we are brought to an awareness of it. Whether we choose to “ring in the season” is up to us, but there are more choices to this holy awareness. It is this-do I strive to keep my heart open in every moment when faced with everything? The “Norman Rockwell” image so abundantly sought after at Christmastime tends to trap us into an illusory bubble far from the reality of “Christmas.” Christ, with all the love, forgiveness, humility, trust, and compassion tends to get left behind in the shadow of our external yearnings. The real-ness of family, friends and those we don’t know waiting to be seen in the light.

Christmas “true Christmas” serves an open heart not through a particular season but yet throughout our life each and every day that we live. Through all its injustices, hurts, frustrations and senselessness of events we do not understand life offers us the opportunities to serve and heal. I know no greater gift than that of “connection” to all that is. When we can feel the ushering in of this energy, this life force, this spirit that reaches down into the depths of our being and connects us to everyone and everything around us- we are alive. No closed heart protects us from anything. It is the open heart that acts as a shield with its wisdom crumbling the fear and stone walls that threaten to separate us from the very experiences we need to thrive. It is in this Spirit that our eyes and heart are opened evolving our limited ways of thinking into limitless ways of being.

Merry Christmas everyone! And a special heartfelt Merry Christmas to my friend Doris Griffin, your insight is your greatest gift to each one of us.

Please see new updates: Under the page BRIDGES this week- Diarmuid O’Murchu’s latest book- In The Beginning was Spirit. Excellently written.

Under the page ESSAY Closet- a Poem -This Special Time of Year

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      “As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.”


On a summer day in my back yard many years ago, I believe I was ten years old, I remember spinning. Arms out wide, laughing deliriously, just spinning, round and round. At that moment, in the high of golden sunlight and laughter-I remember a voice asking me to remember. It was a powerful moment suspended in time with a plea for me to remember that moment forever, because one day, when I grew up, I would forget. I have never forgotten that moment.

More importantly is the message I will never forget. On the surface the moment begs me to remember the joy of being a kid and having fun never taking life too seriously, on a deeper level it reminds me to remember “who I am.” The surge of joy that gave me flight in that moment is a power found only at the core of our most essential being- one that dares to live for each and every experience.

I believe the source that fills us and that creates us comes through a spigot that we can turn off or on depending on us. The memory of that source has and will continue to be my strength in those moments when the spigot gets rusty and I cannot turn it. My soul remembering the stories that I have forgotten is my safe haven for the dreams and hopes of what was and what will be again. There are places and people that live in those stories that I believe have crossed my path before and will again, each experience acting as a reminder to something greater than a physical universe. I may not be able to know exactly how things will unfold, but I know for certain that the “me” that lives deep within guides me each and every day to be the best that I can be. It draws me into the greater wisdom that surrounds me. There within the folds of every beautiful and ugly, good or bad, sad or happy moment is a whisper in my ear to remember that I am all I can ever be in any given moment. Remember- turn on the spigot and let the waters flow!

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Debbie hits the nail on the head with this. If it is not the real us speaking, or if it is not the real God we speak to we are at a loss. If it is real the “Bush” burns brightly!

Two Minutes of Grace

The prayer preceding all prayers is ‘May it be the real I who speaks. May it be the real Thou that I speak to.’… If that can be done, there is no need to go anywhere else. This situation itself is, at every moment, a possible theophany. Here is the holy ground; the Bush is burning now. ~ C.S. Lewis

The old Looney Tunes character, Foghorn Leghorn, famously began, ended and infused his sentences with I say… I say…  It’s funny, but that’s come to my mind recently as I’ve considered a peculiarity in my prayers. It happens more when I’m praying out loud, but it’s sometimes also there in the silent whispers of my heart.

Like Foghorn Leghorn’s repetitive I say… I say… I find myself repeating I pray… I pray…

I’m already praying, just like Foghorn Leghorn was already talking. So essentially I’m talking to God and continually…

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