When we were younger, we went to church every Sunday. It was my Dad’s promise to his Catholic faith when he married mom. He took us. Mom stayed home every time – likely to collect her sanity.
Later, we went every other Sunday. And it got less frequent from there.
One of my fondest church memories was the snowy Sunday morning we got to church early and Dad, instead of parking the van in the closest spot on the lot, drove past the parked cars to a snowy empty section in the back. He then, uncharacteristically, gave the van some gas and turned the wheel – hard.
Some church sermons you never forget.
This lovely church is in farm country Ontario. It’s taken on the wedding day of dear friends who committed to taking a journey together around 2004. I know they’re still on their journey, now with four kids. I hope they’re in a van on some snowy parking lot somewhere squealing with laughter.
What a handsome devil.
This bearded dragon posed for the camera long ago – back in 2006 in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. I suspect the wide Canadian prairie wasn’t his first choice for living. He came from a good home with lovely pet ‘parents’ who cared for him. He was mild mannered and didn’t move much when I took his portrait.
I remember he mentioned the cold. He looked forward to the coming hipster revival where his beard would invite compliments from other handsome bearded fellows. I suspect he’s probably running a brewery somewhere, sporting tattoos, and wearing a toque to keep warm on the wide Canadian prairie.
It happens more now. I”ll see them everywhere.
Sometimes it’s a sentence in a book. Or an animal.
Or a sign. Or an animal on a sign.
Kinda like this one spotted on the side of a road back in 2006. I suspect he’s still there, somewhere in Northern Ontario, keeping us all posted with his sign.
How does one send out an apology that is cool, real, and shows the scale of the screw-up one may need to address?
Via dinosaur perhaps?!
I think this long extinct reptile has a new purpose. He’ll be our ambassador to world peace.
With his open arms he’ll usher in new days full of forgiveness.
He’s setting the world right again – one ‘saury’ at a time.
This wisdom is brought to you by a wise six year-old boy and a dog named Jasmine.
Jasmine is the beloved pet of dear friends. She takes all of our time back in 2004 to pause and witness something.
Behind Jasmine is Jenn, the now mother of the wise six year-old who echoed Jasmine’s wisdom. “Don’t rush your time,” he stated to his mom who was in obvious need of coaching whilst drawing a wolf.
I too was along for the lesson back in 2004. I followed Jasmine’s lead, paused, and caught the moment. I suppose we all can use a little reminding of what we can capture when we don’t rush our time.
Oh my God. This one is making me blush. Who wrote this? Leonard Cohen, is that you?
This is inspired by the tall Tim Hortons guy with all those teeth and that bike guy.
Photo taken in Grimsby Ontario in 1997-ish. I’d often come to the shore after work and sit on some driftwood and watch the waves roll in.
This is a dock in Bobcaygeon Ontario. I’m sure it was taken in 2006 while on my way west chasing adventure. A friend had already driven out and asked me to do the same. “Come out for the summer, what could it hurt?”. With no real plan and no real trust in magic, I went.
Ten years later, I have piles of evidence of magic in my life.
Take that leap – or at least look over the edge of your life because there you will begin to see the hidden workings of this this thing I like to call magic. Don’t let its dark, inky blackness fool you. It has ways of taking you away from your shore to discover wonderful people, places, and ideas.
Do I trust magic now? Mostly. I’m almost there. Never have I before leaned on it as hard as I do now.
These lines on my face, speaking my secret stories, giving me away.
Do these lines make my life look awesome?
We are given our original face from our parents and begin to live our life all the while leaving lines on our face. These serve as the memories of our experiences; these lines speak our stories. Where these lines appear and how deep they are is up to us. Surprise, anger, joy, grief, concentration, disappointment, tension all find a place on our face.
This wisdom I gathered from a brief affair with a Chinese Face Reading textbook which showed the literal impact of our thoughts. It also shared that the Chinese culture have a goal of striving to return to their original face. This original face is the the one that reflects our true essence: our soul.
So, after many hours of scrutiny in the mirror, I’ve stepped away and am relaxing and letting go of all that no longer serves. As a result, some lines are lessening – remarkably! – while others continue to stay, leaving only the beautiful, lovely stories that you can read from the lines on my face.
The photo is the Easter lily taken in 2002 when my face had far fewer cool stories to tell.
This little view is through a glass door in Holland. The year was 2002. On the other side is a snoozing kitty and sand dunes and a soft summer day.
These words came from a friend whom I loved dearly. He said this around 2014. He was often joking and trying to make you laugh when he’d then burst out with some golden wisdom or profound knowing. I wrote these words down a few months after he passed away so that I would never forget that it’s a good day to have a good day.
A classic farm scene: a heifer dairy calf next to her outdoor hutch. Taken on the farm in 2002.
She get’s to share this little wisdom: Unlock thyself. Relax the hitches in your body. Undo the hitches in your mind. I journelled this out well after my marathon of lengthy commutes in the car followed by more lengthy bouts of sitting in a chair. Not. Good.
So, I purchased and used a number of small, round spiky torture devices that are specifically designed to stretch out your fascia and loosen your muscles. I also began to unwind the tight knotted beliefs that restricted new neurological network formation in my mind.
As I discovered that no spiky ball could get in those tight pockets in my mind, I took to drinking. KIDDING! I escaped to a small mountain town to connect with good friends and journalled my way to mental safety.
And for some reason, this wise looking calf seemed to be trying to tell me all about this long ago.