“Them’s the facts, ma’am; however…”

I was torn about publishing this particular post, until a certain little voice said, “What are you afraid of? Go ahead, keep it to yourself if you like, but remember, you can’t help anyone else unless you let an open, loving heart prevail a little over that closed, fearful mind…”

Canada Day – Our National Holiday

Fireworks! Wear your red and white!

It’s already 149 years since Confederation, when the British colonies of Upper and Lower Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick negotiated to form the Dominion of Canada. That fledgling nation of four provinces (Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario) formed the core for our modern country. The rest, as they say, is history– literally.

Garden Musings: On Changes

Garden Musings: On Changes

Perennials I planted ‘round the bower
Have sprung up, green, and hasten on to flower,
While bulbs I placed in careful clumps last fall
Now bloom where squirrels rearranged them all!

Sonnet on Time

They’ve come and gone again, these endless Ides*
That ebb and flow relentlessly as tides!
Thank God they’ve lapped again upon my shore,
Each crash of waves unlike the ones before.

Six Fourteenths of a Sonnet

Torture your brain for fun?

Free, from clipartpanda

We do it all the time, disregarding the danger of acquiring time-consuming, relationship-destroying addictions. (We prefer the euphemism “expert status”). What are we doing so recklessly? Crossword puzzles! Sudoku! Riddles! Cognitive-training games like Lumosity!  Some people even succumb to solving Rubik’s cubes, and playing chess!

It’s all well and good, because the general population seems to have given these types of activity the stamp of “normalcy.” Everyone sticks to the rules to solve the problems.

But what if you’re one of us subversive types whose game is to juggle words, secretly,

Expressive Arts Therapy: “Cosmos Dancing”

(…continued from My Introduction to Expressive Arts Therapy).

Cosmos Dancing within my Soul –  a collaborative expressive arts therapy project

For a couple of weeks toward the end of our two semesters of art therapy, only “Mary” and I were able to attend regularly, along with Kimberley, our program facilitator. For us, she cooked up something new, alright!

Expressive Arts Therapy: “Body Project”

(…continued from My Introduction to Expressive Arts Therapy).

There we were, six of us chemo-balded ladies, hung all in a row, faceless and pale, with our backs flat against the wall, waiting for colour. How had it ever come to this?

My Introduction to “Expressive Arts Therapy”

This post has been simmering for a long time… Heartfelt thanks to blogger Maria Holm of Health from One Heart to Another for encouraging me to write a post about my experience with this therapy, as a patient, and for her patience in finally getting this response. Maria was a public health care practitioner; she has a big heart for people, loves the arts, travel, and has many other interests too, as you’ll see from her blog.

I hope this post will encourage you to embrace creative activities as natural and essential to your daily life!

What is “Expressive Arts Therapy” anyway? By definition, all the arts are expressive, but what makes them “therapy”?

March: On the Cusp!

Snowmobile and ski trails on Lake Kashagawigamog, all quiet in the early light. Photo © Hildegard Lindschinger

The first week of March – white and cold! We were staying in a second-floor condo in Ontario’s Haliburton Highlands.  Lake Kashagawigamog and the white mounds of rolling hills undulating along the opposite shore stretched right across the width of our large picture window and beyond. Kashagawigamog– I love the sound of this aboriginal Anishinaabe name– aptly means “lake of long and winding waters.”

A Pain in the Butt: Redux

“A beggar dressed in rags, limping with the aid of a staff towards a village.” Etching, attr. Jacques Callot.  Wellcome Library, London.  Creative Commons Attribution 4.0

I’m grateful for having received a lot of empathy, encouragement, good advice, and reassurance that I’m in plenty of good company, after my post on A Pain in the Butt and Other Life Lessons. Thank-you!

Now, I thought an update would be in order. This caveat still stands: anything I (simply a patient) mention here or in the previous post is for information only. For yourself, check with your healthcare provider to gear to your own situation. Everyone is different!

Since I’m different too, I’d better add another caveat to this post. Warning: Limericks Ahead!

This rhyming, inane, in my brain
When my nether parts wallow in pain
Has one main attraction:
Providing distraction
From feeling I’ve derailed my train!

A Pain in the Butt, and Other Life Lessons

A Pain in the Butt. Literally. Starting before Christmas, I found myself stiff, limping, and in pain from “just muscle knots.”

My Conscience (finger-pointing at me): “Aha,

“On the Fifth Day of Christmas…”

Fifth Day already? You mean we’re already almost halfway through the Twelve Days of Christmas? Well, then it’s past high time I gave heartfelt thanks to fellow writers who brightened the blogosphere with their festive images and words all this past month. Thank-you! I hope that all of you, readers and writers, enjoyed a time of love and peace in your own personal spheres!

First Snowfall

It was inevitable, but of course we were surprised (or just in plain ordinary Canadian denial, having procrastinated in getting snow tires) when we got our first real snowfall during the night of Nov. 21.

Huge snowflakes, floating gently, silently from the dark sky and glistening in the soft glow of street lights, piled in soft mounds on branches and covered the ground. Slick driving conditions notwithstanding, you had to be in awe!  

Why Try to Describe Nature?

I love walking around in nature– out in the open or in gardens– breathing fresh air. Well, I mean I love it when there are no mosquitoes, and when it’s not too hot, too humid, or too cold! Under those circumstances, I still love viewing beautiful scenery through a window or from behind a mosquito screen, or barring that, vicariously through poetry, prose, photography, or art.

The Solitary Tree. “Caspar David Friedrich – Der einsame Baum – Google Art Project” by Caspar David Friedrich – VgEo9JDzFjfGGg at Google Cultural Institute. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons –

It would be easy to leave it at that, but then

Ruminations on Past and Present

“Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?” 
“I’ve been to London to visit the Queen.”
“Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, what did you there?”
“I frightened a little mouse under the chair!”
     – English nursery rhyme from the 16^th century

Another month has passed too quickly, and I ask myself, “Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?”  (Or more accurately, “What have you done in all this time?”)

Well, I’d say, “I’ve been to London to visit the Queen,” but only in a metaphorical sense! However,

C is for …

C is for Clutter Creativity

Can you have both clutter AND creativity at the same time, or do you have to choose between clutter OR creativity? Drive yourself crazy trying to find consensus in scientific or popular commentaries on the internet, then find out what’s right for you!

Old Mother Hubbard – Detail of Wikipedia image (Public Domain)

I concede that, as much as I cringe at the thought of filing papers, I complete more creative goals when my desks are clutter-free (once I’ve recovered from the awe-inspiring, bright sight of empty work surfaces, with my writing and painting tools handy in tidy containers).

Alluding publicly (on my “About” page, no less) to my lofty intention to “downsize clutter,” I must have wanted, subconsciously, to be held accountable for achieving that goal. (On the other hand, it’s also possible

Ballad of the Old Boots

First, the Background
     1) My New Boots:

It was 1987, and we were bound for vacation in the French Riviera and Austria. I splurged on a pair of expensive (albeit on half-price sale!) sturdy, yet light and airy hiking boots. Not “my colour,” but the last pair in stock in a difficult-to-find size, they had to be mine. We fast became good buddies on many hikes.

Time, Travel, and Trepidation

Timing it Right

A vacation some time ago, across one of the oceans bordering North America:

I’m having a lovely relaxing time, watching a round moon spilling molten silver on the sea. A glass of  wine in hand, I’m in a relaxed frame of mind…
Wow, I wish the kids were here to see this! Why don’t I phone and say hello? Six hours difference… ok, the timing is right, 4 p.m. at home– #1 grandson should be home from school by now.

Rrrring. A low voice croaks “Mom?” Then an intense alertness: “Mom! What’s wrong? Are you guys ok?”

Laughter, Seriously

I accomplished an archaeological dig through the stuff on my desk this week, and found this treasure: “Laughter is God’s hand on the shoulder of a troubled world.”

My sister had given me this little mini-plaque a long time ago. I had stuck it on the front of the wooden box that holds my scissors and hole punches, handy to look at anytime. No surprise, it’s always there; but suddenly, today, I SAW it! And, with my mind almost as clear as my desk, it got me thinking.

To My Homesick Immigrant Mother

You described it well,
That homeland you left behind.
Over and over
          Your words heaved like waves
          That tossed your ship towards us:
          Hopes rose as tears fell.

Describe it once more:
Those hills, their green heads dreaming
In pink haze of dawn,
          Your village snuggling
          In sleepy shadows below,
          Unscathed— yet— by war,