Being Wakefull

Harvest moon rising over Lorimer Lake

Fibro Bedtime Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep,

Or not, but do not blame the sheep.

Had a hot bath with Epsom salts,

Warm milk, melatonin, read till tired,

But still my brain is over-fired!

Pets are fed, my spouse in bed.

No matter how I lay my head,

My neck hurts, no – my hip, no – both.

Now it’s my leg, it gives a kick…

Cramp in my foot, CRAMP IN MY FOOT!

Think I’ll get up and read some blogs,

Hope the light won’t wake the dogs.

How can I be so exhausted,

Yet my brain’s awake and spinning cogs,

While others all are sawing logs?

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray my sanity to keep,

But failing that, my sense of humour,

For I believe I've heard it rumoured,

It’s far better to laugh than weep!
Barb McKay






Wakefully yours, Barb

Being present in the moment

O.K. so I'm trying to embrace Grace. Great. Rather a nebulous goal, don't you think? Well it sounded good to me when I wrote my first post...

One thing I learned from a meditation course recently is an exercise in living in the moment. The instructor told us: "In the normal course of your day, try to be aware of what your senses are telling you at any given moment. What do you hear, see, smell, taste, feel? Try not to judge what you sense, (mmm, peonies - I always think they smell like ivory soap, oooh, exhaust, yuk I'll hold my breath). Rather, just be present in the world around you."

It's really rather freeing, not having to process everything - and you may be surprised at what you notice that you may ordinarily have missed. One day this week I suddenly noticed 3" of new growth, neon green and softly swinging in the breeze, on the tip of nearly every branch of the tamarack tree I pass daily on my way to work! When did they grow to 3" in length - surely not overnight? How could I have missed this dramatic change?

On the other hand, just around the corner from the tamarack tree is a row of lilac bushes, destined one day to be a hedge, but planted just 2 years ago, they bloomed this spring for the first time. I stopped to smell them every time I passed them, and for a moment, just a moment, there was nothing else in my mind but their cool gentle fragrance. I had no thought in my mind about whether I was running late, the soreness in my neck, or my annoyance with myself for not tacking that decorative dish to the shelf so that it would not have fallen and broken last night... Just a moment filled only with the smell of lilacs, with peace, with... grace.

Be present, Barb

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step. Lao Tzu

My middle name is Grace, the name of a favorite aunt.

The word grace can mean ease and suppleness of movement, a virtue, being disposed to act with kindness, favour, a reprieve or a privilege, beauty and charm, a sense of propriety. (Merriam - Webster)

I have always considered my name some sort of cosmic joke, the ultimate irony, a poke in the eye, at the very least a sad misnomer. I spent my childhood with skinned knees, patched leotards (anybody remember those?), the last picked for teams (even waaay outfield, the softball would bounce off my chin, not land in my hand). I spent my adolescence wishing I was wallpaper (let me just be invisible). I still worry about what to say in social situations (even in Canada there is a limit to how long you can converse about the weather).

Now I'm 50 (ish), have a chronic illness, still sometimes feel as self assured as the acned girl in the polyester pantsuit, and both my babies have moved away from home (sigh). I think its time I embraced GRACE, and started BEING gracefully. So begins the journey...