The Golden Age

I am driving the car doing my best to appear invisible.  I am listening to my fourteen year old daughter Emily, whom I unschool, talk to her friend Risa who attends the local public school. They are planning their future, well, more so Risa. She seems concerned about her future more than Emily. Since my journey in Sunlight I am fascinated with how people figure out what they are going to do for a career, how they are finding and living their purpose. The social, institutional and parental pressures that our on our youth as they feel they need to plan the rest of their lives by the age of eighteen. The golden age.

I listened Risa tell Emily that when she was choosing her electives she was not able to take what she wanted, home economics, because her mother felt she needed French. I noticed disappointment in her voice wrapped in a sense of responsibility towards her parents. I see Risa as a pleaser and not someone who would show her parents any disrespect by not taking their advice.

After everything I uncovered about purpose in my book Sunlight, finding yourself and living your life seems very important. Those feelings of being lost and pleasing others can grow and be so overwhelming. It can spiral out of control leading to depression and health issues. It saddens and frustrates me to see yout not taking a path that interests them now due to so much pressure out there.

“Do you know what you want to do after high school?” Risa asks Emily. I turn to look at Emily because I am curious to know her answer. Then I think, here I am putting indirect pressure on Em simply by looking at her waiting for answer.  Like the answer to this question matters right now.  Does it? I wonder. No, I don’t think so.  Emily has just begun her exploration of herself since we pulled her out of public school at the beginning of the school year.  Emily is still a bit raw, a baby exploring her craft and herself.

“No …” says Emily with a bit of curiousness in her voice and a smirk on her lips. I wonder what that is about? I know she is aware of what her passions are but not sure where to take them yet or what to do with them.

Risa seems more tense about the issue of picking classes now, entering her Grade Ten year.  Decisions that could impact the rest of her life.  Oh the weight we put on these decisions.  Weight that comes from institutions and society wanting the best, wealthiest, people out there.  Tension and doubts rest in her thoughts about making the right choices. Choices that seem so big and overwhelming that often one looks outside of themselves for answers when really, anyone outside of the seeker can only give guidance.  I guess that is what Risa’s mom is doing.

How many of you got close to your dreams when you were planning your classes and future in senior high? Any classes you wish you took or are thankful your parents talked you out of?

Waiting To Exhale

Waiting to exhale … that deep breath as you settle into comfort and truth and love and yourself.  When you get what you always wanted.  I have felt so much motivation and action this week.  I do believe that my energy and passion has come from the novel A Dangerous Mourning by Anne Perry which I completed reading on Tuesday.  The book left me feeling exhilarated and confident – more sure of myself, who I am, and my goals.  I love uncovering a mystery!  This week has been one long inhale and now I must release.

The work I have done this week has cleared up my intention on blogging for I need one to keep up in this ratrace on the internet. I have always found blogging, and still do but maybe it is lessened a bit, a crazy, intense form of media.  There is so much of it out there and so much pressure to get numbers and attract people.  It is overwhelming.  It is like everyone has their own newspapers and has to be at every street corner trying to sell, screaming above the person beside them.

Yet I have this desire to be of service.  I wish to inspire people to be themselves.  Perhaps find themselves first.  Clear away all the anger and hurt and expectations.  Shake the dusty blankets off all the agreeing and trying and settle into being you.   I want people to notice the clues to being themselves – uncover their purpose – their destiny.   The only way to help is to hear stories.  I would love to help you uncover your unsolved mystery.  Or perhaps hear how you uncovered it.  Maybe you always new it and have never felt that lost feeling some of us have.

It is my intention for people to find the hidden clues of who they are.  Just as I did in my book Sunlight.  To live a life doing and being what you love.  Like solving the mystery of Anne Perry’s novels you need some querying and questioning but also time for reflection.

Understanding the concept of life-purpose is my passion.  I feel more comfortable and sure of it’s direction.  It is my niche.  It is my quest.  Ahh … I can exhale.

What is something that you did, saw, read, experienced, whatever, that left you feeling exhilarated?

A Bit of Sunlight

It is a nice August day. The air is still and warm. Not too hot. Just perfect. Teela decides that she wants to go outside so I follow despite my not wanting to. I would prefer to lay on the couch and watch a movie. (Movies are great. They take my mind off my life for about two hours. Keep’em coming I say.) Craig is working in the garage so Teela is pulled there with magnetized energy.

We go out to the garage and Teela is distracted with Craig. She wants to help him. I am glad for this. I have less responsibilities if he is watching her too. I pull up a lawn chair and sit and watch the two of them. I am ready if Craig needs me to attend to Teela. I am talking to him about the guilt I feel regarding not working and living off him yet I can not move to change it. I am sharing with him my confusion about working and wondering about life. All of a sudden I struggle to breathe. I am trying to catch my breath. Long deep gasps for air. I walk around following Teela as I am breathing deeply and slowly. After a minute or two I am breathing normally again. This is normal for me these days but Craig has not noticed it until now.

Craig stops what he is doing, stands and watches me. When I am fine he asks, “Do you do that often?” I tell him that I do. I must confess that I am pleased Craig noticed. Normally he doesn’t see me. He actually noticed my breathing. I am surprised and happy. He seems concerned. This makes me happy. I like being noticed by him. I just wish I didn’t have to be breathing funny to get his attention.

I fell in love with my husband for the way he loved me. He is loyal and loves with all his heart. I trust him to be faithful. He is a very traditional man. But I must confess that I have always wondered why he loves me. He has only asked me for my opinion maybe five to ten times in the decade we have been together. And those times were for simple things, like “What route should we take?” or “Do you want a tap with a spray nozzle?”

He has never asked my opinion on anything from the heart. He has never asked for my opinion in one of his debates he tries to start with me about something economical or political that I don’t care about. I think he starts those debates to prove something to himself – that his idea is fabulous and flawless. Now, when something is wrong with me all he cares about is my paycheque. We are living each month, paying our bills. Yet I am made to feel like crap from him. I feel like crap all on my own. I put enough guilt on my shoulders that his guilt buckles my knees and I am laying on the ground unable to get up because the pressure is suffocating me. He lovingly gives these gifts of guilt to me as means of support, to boost me and motivate me to do something more with my life. That is how he feels I need help.

I do feel guilty that he is supporting all of us. That was never the plan. I do want my own money. I love making my own money. This is the first time since I was eleven years old that I have not had my own money to buy things.


My Thoughts On “A Dangerous Mourning” by Anne Perry

Once again Perry has pulled me into her world. She gave puzzle pieces, clues, to solve the unknown picture. I thoroughly enjoyed how she left me hanging at the end of The Face of A Stranger, the first book in the Monk series. I had to know what was going to happen to Inspector Monk so I followed him to A Dangerous Mourning. Only now, she has me even more fascinated with Hester to boot!

I am very drawn to the main characters Monk and Hester. They have such admirable qualities. They are witty and do not hesitate to share their opinions. They always seem to handle situations wonderfully. Never sacrificing themselves for someone else. Always aware of their thoughts and how to best handle the people and the circumstances they are in. Receptive to others personality and emotions as they speak to them. Characteristics that many would be fascinated with.

I enjoy how Perry speaks of customs and social norms. Especially those pertaining to women. How women were meant to be gentle, fragile beings sitting pretty doing needle work. I wonder if there were a great many more women in that era that were like Hester, wanting more from life, wanting to make a difference.

I am curious about how she unfolded the story, laying out her clues. I deciphered early on that there was something in the story that had to do with Octavia’s husbands dying in the war. The night of her death she told her Uncle, Septimus, that he would understand better than anyone else. The only major quality that was shared about Septimus was that he had been unable to spend his life with the woman he loved. So I was left wondering when Monk would investigate Octavia’s husbands passing. Yet, I suppose a man dying in the war was nothing much to investigate. Even more so, what could she possibly have in common with her Uncle. Who would think to tie these two concepts in real life when there is so much else going on around them. I guess it may have been a dead end, no pun intended. Yet, I felt very pleased, watch me as I stroke my ego, that I had suspicions about this part of the story and was glad to see that it played out in the end.

I was also keen on the characters behaviours and declared who the murderers were before there was any proof. I knew who was responsible but had no idea why. I feel proud that I deciphered Perry’s code … well part of it.

Closing the book and laying it on my night stand I returned my head down to my pillow, to reflect on the story, the world that I just left.  As the day crept on I noticed a new light inside me. An energy floating around. I was in a high all day. I am still feeling the side affects a day later. It inspired me to write, shook my muse awake as she has been sleeping for a few weeks, maybe months. I am not sure when I last saw her actually. It opened up a door for me and I believe it is because I saw my interests as well as messages, quotes, that spoke to me. It woke me up and revitalized me and I hope to hang onto this feeling as long as I can.

Her ability to wrap the reader into the lives of the characters as well as bring you into their perspective is most rewarding for any writer. For the characters are strong believers for every person to be themselves and pursue their interests yet recognize socially that is not acceptable in many cases. It is like a self-help book that snuck onto your book shelf. To see the characters determined to pursue their passions, to know their strengths and not let anyone, not even social pressures detour them from their path is most amazing. These characters could be real people out there.

Due to my desire to follow Monk and Hester I will be picking up the next book, Defend and Betray, in the very near future to stalk them on their next adventure.

A Bit of Writing

When I go for walks I often bring my smartphone with me.  I have installed the app for Evernote on it and when I get a bit of inspiration I audio record it into a ‘note’ in Evernote.  It is most handy.  Today I wrote the little blurb below.  Nothing much.  Just a little something.

I move my foot, not to obstruct the beetles path. For I sense it was on a journey for food. Or maybe shelter. I do not know.  As I walked further down the road I noticed another beetle jutting out of the way of my destructive path.  My steps are unsteady as I crunch each footprint on the loose gravel of heavy stones.  Searching for balance in each step.