Request to my Readers

Hi All.

So I’d started a series on Archetypes and noticed that readership wasn’t doing so well. I realize part of that is me! I’ve not been writing regularly. The series was supposed to help accomplish that. But it seems that perhaps it’s not what you’re looking for. And that’s okay. So would you mind copy and pasting the questions below and paste them into the comment box below and then answer the two questions. I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks!

So here’s the big question:

1. What things would you like me to write about?
2. Have you found some of my writing to be inspirational/helpful? If so would you mind giving me an example by quoting one of the blog entry titles in your answer and how it inspired you.

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You Sank My Battleship!!!!

I am my own worst enemy!
I am my own worst critic!
I am a failure and/or a loser!

Now I’m quite aware that these aren’t the most positive statements to start off today’s entry. But isn’t it true of nearly everyone (except those who are totally perfect)? Even if we never state these words, they ring very clearly in our heads at times of stress, loss, unexpected change, demotions, job loss, illness, relationship ending and many, many other deep and dark places on the Haunted House Ride on the midway of life, which can seem what our lives look like.

As many of you know, the last five years for me have been the most challenging years of my life. For those of you who didn’t know that, here’s a small preview into my Haunted House Ride these last five years:

• Started a successful business as a Consultant for ‘charities’
• Got married a year later
• Ended that marriage after only ten months (we were together a total of 10 ½ years)
• Took my first ‘alone’ trip to Mexico
• Lost a major contract
• Slipped into my first deep depression during this time period
• Picked up another exciting contract
• Divorce was finalized after a very ugly battle
• Went on my second big trip as a single; but this time with my son
• Came home to a mess with the ‘exciting’ contract
• Discovered that the Executive Director had been dishonest with the funders and they pulled the funding
• Resigned from that project after working to move it into a program rather than project
• Had several months of no work slipping further into debt
• Had a sudden move of house and home
• Came an inch within claiming bankruptcy but managed to make it through with a Consumer Proposal
• Had to officially close my consulting practice due to how the economy affected charities
• Slipped into my second deep depression during this time
• Trained for and continue my studies in Celebrant work
• and on and on the ride goes….

During this time I was often plagued with anxiety, depression and self-sabotaging thoughts. Then I started to learn about Archetypes, reading author Caroline Myss. And I suddenly realized that I was indeed my own worst enemy and critic. But I’m not a loser – even if I felt that way some days.

Myss defines the Saboteur archetype thusly:

The Saboteur archetype is made up of the fears and issues related to low self-esteem that cause you to make choices in life that block your own empowerment and success. As with the Victim and Prostitute, you need to face this powerful archetype that we all possess and make it an ally. When you do, you will find that it calls your attention to situations in which you are in danger of being sabotaged, or of sabotaging yourself. Once you are comfortable with the Saboteur, you learn to hear and heed these warnings, saving yourself untold grief from making the same mistakes over and over. Ignore it, and the shadow Saboteur will manifest in the form of self-destructive behaviour or the desire to undermine others.

Down the line I will start to bring in the Astrological Wheel. But I wanted to make a quick note here, so that you (and I) see how the Saboteur can affect you (me). My Saboteur falls into the First House which is represented by the sign Aries. And the area of my psyche that Aries represents is Ego & Personality. It also affects Chakras 1 & 3.

Now what does that all mean? Well it can mean whatever you want it to mean really. And the meaning will different from one person’s truth to another person’s truth. But for I can see throughout my nearly 53 years that the Saboteur has been very active in breaking down my ego (positive ego-self esteem) and my personality. And I can see the spiritual effects and damage in my body in Chakras 1 & 3 which represent our groundedness, our roots, our family & loyalty (chakra 1-The Root) and lack of honouring myself, self respect, self esteem, discipline, courage and ethics (chakra 3 The Solar Plexus).

I have found myself both struggling with the above and actually, sometimes not even being aware of it, self sabotaging.

On a physical level these two chakras represent our lower back and connection to the organs below the liver. I have allowed this sabotage to affect my lower back (disks) and often my gut.

Have you ever noticed that when you have that very important meeting that you get so nervous that you will fail in your presentation that you have to spend the hour previous in the bathroom?

For me that’s when my Saboteur is trying to destroy my self-esteem, self-confidence and also my gut. There have been times when I’ve allowed something upset me to the point of actually being physically ill.

So my lesson in this life has been to realize that all is as it’s supposed to be. That I am not alone; that all is one. I have learned to honour myself and my needs. We have a real issue with the term selfish. But it can have ver positive meaning too. It can simply mean taking care of the self. Not over indulging it because that becomes self-sabotage.

These days my Saboteur stands as a Sentinel for my life. Almost like a Guardian Angel. When I allow my Saboteur to speak to me before those situations occur, or by stepping back when they occur, I can actually look backwards and see how similar situations/events occurred and how I permitted them to do damage and then become present and not allow that to happen again.

Have I mastered it? Not at all! I am still a student who has so much to learn. Riding the roller coaster can be so much fun! But if I don’t use my common sense (Saboteur) and don’t buckle in or stand up or something equally as foolish, I will be thrown from the ride of life and be broken again and again. My Saboteur, Guardian Angel, Common Sense keeps me whole.

Since we all possess this archetype, I’d encourage you to stop and take a few minutes and allow the Saboteur to speak to you now. Ask: “What situations am I involved in that will bring me harm? What can I do to avoid bringing harm to another person? How can you, my Saboteur, show me a better way, a safer way, a more fun way, of living my life?”

 

What are your Archetypes up to?

Next week: The Victim

Other blog entries in this series (first to most recent)

Archetypes on the Midway
Four Survival: The Child
Prostitute! How Rude
You Sank My Battleship!

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Untitled Entry - Read Full Article

So I thought that I’d pick the archetype that bothered me the most when I first started this journey, thinking that you may be bothered by having a “Prostitute” as one of your survival archetypes.

I grew up in a world that was very strict and super conservative in religious beliefs. So hearing that I’m carrying a Prostitute around in my back pocket just didn’t cut it!

I’m so glad I didn’t give up at that point. If anything when someone says to me, “You can’t do it!” it makes me all the more stubborn to show I can do it! Sometimes stubborn is a good thing. Sometimes not! But that’s another discussion on another Archetype!

So, the Prostitute. I want re-emphasize, like the author, Dr. Caroline Myss, that these archetypes are ‘energies’ we have access to, or ‘parts of ourselves’, and most importantly, they hold no good or malice. They just are. And the title that Dr. Myss gives may not work for you, so rename it something that does work for you. She chose it because it made sense to her and because she opened her mind and heart to not the societal judgment, but to the purpose of this archetype.

I’m hoping I don’t get in trouble for a direct quote from her book, Sacred Contracts. I’m giving full credit to her work and recommending that you either go buy the book (paperback if you like to make notes, Kindle if not) or get it at the library and read it. There is no way I could do her decades of work any justice when I’ve only been on this journey for less than a year!

Prostitute

The Prostitute archetype engages lessons in integrity and the sale or negotiation of one’s integrity or spirit due too fears of physical and financial survival or for financial gain. This archetype activates the aspects of the unconscious that are related to seduction and control, whereby you are as capable of buying a controlling interest in another person as you are in selling your own power. Prostitution should also be understood as the selling of your talents, ideas, and any other expression of the self – or the selling-out of them. This archetype is universal and its core learning relates to the need to birth and refine self-esteem and self-respect. -> Page 407, Sacred Contracts, Caroline Myss.

Does that help? The bolding and underlining are mine. You may or may not remember that last week I said that all Archetypes have a Light and Shadow side to them. Here’s how I see the Prostitute from my emphases above:

Light
Engages lessons in integrity
Selling of your talents, ideas and self-expression (your work, qualifications, abilities for a greater cause)
Self-esteem
Self-respect

Shadow
Selling or negotiation of one’s integrity
Selling or negotiation of one’s spirit
Seduction and control of others and/or situations
Selling of one’s own power (disempowerment)
Selling of your talents, ideas and self-expression (selling out)

Above you see that I put selling of your talents, ideas and self-expression in BOTH categories. That’s because we can sell ourselves, for example, when applying for a job, selling a project, even selling one’s self for a relationship (light). We can also sell out in situations when our integrity is being tested and we allow ourselves to be pushed around, abused, manipulated, disempowered.

Maybe a gentle name for this Archetype could be Salesman. But I now feel comfortable with Prostitute. It seems to hold the description better for me.

So now, what about a life example? I will give you two. I have MANY, believe me!

Situation 1:

I worked for a man who had a great ‘intention’ in helping men who were being pushed around by the system either in the process or after separation and divorce. These men often found themselves paying too much support for their income, kept from seeing their children, maligned by the other parent and a whole lot more.

What a great cause right? Or so I thought. I tried for three plus years to change him by allowing just little things to slip. I would ignore lies about funding. I would write proposals to organizations and government with little white lies or manipulated statistics in them. I would write proposals asking for money, knowing that money was being funnelled from those proposed programs to other non-related programs and activities and even a person pocket!

I believe that women have had it tough! I really do. I consider myself to be a third wave feminist. But I also believe that in the fight over chattels and children BOTH parties play some very terrible games. Women have wonderful resources available to them. Our community had a fantastic support system for women but nothing for men. So this organization was started for that purpose.

At first I was oblivious to it all. Then I saw this man manipulating people and raging around like a madman on more than one occasion. I learned the ‘other side’ of his marital woes, too. Keep in mind that there are always at least three truths, my truth, your truth, and the truth in the middle.

But there came a day when I was alone in the centre and forced to go looking for a receipt to return a defective thumb drive. Everyone was on vacation. As I went looking through files and records I realized that I’d had my head of my #$$ for too long. I had to leave and I did.

But for three years I turned a deaf ear, blind eye or what have you on the premise that I could be part of doing good. But when I sat down with Spirit that day I realized I was really in it for the security of a job.

I had sold myself out!

The Light side of the Prostitute archetype showed me this. And has been showing me this again and again BEFORE it gets that far. It has made me unpopular, lose jobs and contracts and much “security”.

Situation 2:

This is a very personal one and I don’t share it out of malice. Forgiveness has happened and nothing meant for harm done.

I fell in love with a man. And I believe he fell in love with me. I don’t think we could have lasted 11.5 years otherwise. But there was one major problem. He had addiction issues. He also needed to have sexual freedom. In so many ways he was a wonderful man and I loved him to death. In fact it almost ended that way. I kept turning a blind eye, keeping the peace, pretending, not communicating my needs until my health failed me and I ended up in a cardiac ward. I was there for several days and he never visited me. I knew in my heart what was going on. But even there, in that desperate state, I sold out.

I had two friends visit me. They literally saved my life that day. We’ve since grown apart and that saddens me. But I remember one of my friends went on a racket about how I was left there for days alone with no visits. Her partner hushed her, took me by the hand and said, “James, you know that the heart issues you’re having are NOT because of your family genes. You know why? You have a broken heart! Now what are you going to do about it?” That statement, although delivered in love, hit me like a brick wall. And in that moment I knew she was correct. Once again I had prostituted myself. Once again I had given into fear and wanted security and a future and a dream, which was now a nightmare!

Not too long after I moved out and began divorce proceedings I met another man. He was lovely! He wined me and dined me! I was cautiously optimistic. But I soon realized that he was lying to me as well. This time my Prostitute archetype made me aware and I listened.  I ended it only after 3 or 4 weeks.

 

Now both of these situations have stories inside of stories and truth on both sides as well as fault on both sides. It’s not my purpose to point fingers only at myself. If I had listened to the inner voice (I didn’t know about archetypes then) I would have never allowed myself to be in either of those situations.

So you see the Prostitute archetype does indeed work for us. We can take that power and either use it for good or not. I still battle every day almost with this. To listen to what looks like security and not. I am a Cancer after all. Security is big. Home is big. Family is big. Nice things is big. But I hope that my journey had paved the way for me to never sell myself out or short again.

‘Til next week…

Remember that you are AWESOME, created for awesome things. Never sell out or sell yourself short.

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Four Survival!

That’s NOT a spelling error! I meant foUr!

In Caroline Myss’ book, Sacred Contracts, Myss starts off the process of discovering my Archetypes by saying that we all share the same basic four. Now as I read what she called them I really had to keep an open mind. I’m asking you to do the same. They are Archetypes that are very active right from childhood.

These four are:

1. The Child
2. The Victim
3. The Saboteur
4. The Prostitute

Now, probably like you I wasn’t overly thrilled beyond number one! But Myss goes on to say that you can call them whatever you want. These are the names that she gave because she felt that they made sense. And now that I’ve done the work I understand the titles more and agree.

Keep in mind that these Archetypes are parts of your inner self. They are energies within our own psyche.

The Child represents innocence. We who grew up in the 70’s heard tons about searching out our inner child and getting in touch with our inner child. Unfortunately society painted the inner child is a place of victimhood. This is NOT what we are going to do here. The Child Archetype, as I understand it, is that part of us that represents the innocent, naive, playful, in need of direction energy. Children are born. I have to say here that I do not believe that we are born into sin as some would have us believe. Have you looked at a newborn lately? That innocent little life! That little bundle of joy needs us to care for him/her. It a few years before they start to show that side of them which some call sinful. And even then, is it? Or is it learning about the world around him. Learning to push boundaries so that she can grow up strong and independent? Yes, as we age we learn to do things that are not desirable. We learned to hurt others – our siblings first, if we had any. We learned to steal. We learned to be prejudice (likely from our parents).

A child must be brought up in a way that is going to bring about a strong adult. A child must be shown compassion in order to show it to others. A child must be led by the hand and told not to put his hand on the stove or herself in harm’s way. That is the job of the parent and the surrounding community. Although the nuclear family seems to have dumped it all on the parent with very little support from the community as in days past.

As this Child Archetype matures, he can become a magical Child, or Divine Child, or perhaps the Wounded Child, or the Orphaned Child. Some children never seem to grow up so they remain the Eternal Child.

Miss goes on to say that each Archetype (facet of our own personhood) has a Light side and a Shadow side. Now I bet, because of the way I phrased it you automatically connected the Eternal Child with those guys who just never grow up and always need a mommy to take care of them. And you are partly correct! But that’s just the shadow side. The Eternal Child who remains in the Light becomes that innocent adult. Perhaps the one who sees everything through rose-coloured glasses. Perhaps that person who seems to possess a childlike faith. Perhaps that person who seems to so easily identify with children and no matter when or where he gets right down on the floor, in his tux, and plays with the little child needing some attention.

The Magical Child, is somewhat similar. She can have a faith beyond compare. She can conjure up anything good that she needs. She is delightful to be around, because her child loves to play with magic (the unexplainable).

What about the Wounded Child? Well that has a Light and Shadow as well. My Wounded Child, when I discovered him back in 2000 doing some introspective counselling was the little boy, James, sitting in a dark corner holding on to his teddy bear, crying, terrified, abused, bruised and bleeding. And that’s okay…well sort of. No child should ever have to endure abuse of any kind. No child should ever need to feel terror. The shadow wounded child, I used to make excuses for behaviour. Oh, I’m not very tolerant of that because my mommy used to beat me. Or I am afraid to show myself to the other boys in the shower because so-and-so molested me! I entered into a dialogue of woundology which back them seemed to be acceptable. If we could blame our bad behaviours on someone else legitimately then why not? I’ll tell you why not! It’s because that kind of blaming creates a sinkhole in our souls. We get sucked into it. We allow our lives to come from a place of victimhood. We join ‘support groups’. I’m not a fan of support groups to be honest. Yes! There are some excellent ones out there. But they are groups that should spurn you on into adulthood causing you to take your own behaviours and claim them for what they are…your choices! Not the devil made me do it! Too many of the support groups promote woundology and keep you sick. Is that how you want to be supported? Do you want your child to remain in that dark corner, powerless and crying. If so, all the power…or powerlessness to you! I’m a big boy now! Well that was a bit of a rant!

This Child Archetype has a wonderful side. He is the innocent one. She is the faithful one. He is the Archetype that warns you when someone is about to stomp all over your life and hurt you. She is the one that tells you to get off your ass and go play on the floor with the kids…or the adults!

The Shadow Child Archetype is the child from two paragraphs ago. The one who wants you to feel powerless because the world (adults) is a terrifying place. He is the one who will rant and yell and stomp his feet until he gets his candy (or way at work). She is the one who engages in woundology behaviour and totally disempowers you.

We all have the Child Archetype. And for Light or shadow, we have engaged that child in a variety of ways both to serve us positively or to disempower us.

What is your Child Archetype up to?

Next week: The Victim

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Archetypes on the Midway

Up Up and Away

No I’m not going to start singing!

At the beginning of January I entered into a Service Canada program called the Self-Employment Program. It is one of many Federal Programs that they funnel money to the Provinces and then to organizations. I accessed this same program in 2008 when I started my Consulting Biz! It’s actually a really good program. But there are many hoops to jump through and it can be a bit frustrating. Since I’ve spent most of my working life in not-for-profits, jumping through funding hoops is a norm. Apparently since it’s been more than five years since my last start-up I am permitted to access the program again. Very cool!

Again, it’s not been without its challenges. The program promises a monthly allowance while you work through the training, Business Plan writing, set-up, launch and first several weeks, even months. My first challenge was with Employment Insurance and whether or not I fell into their criteria because of various reasons. So I pushed through it and started the program. But I had no income for he first two months! It was very, very scary! But that’s all in place now and I’m into the second phase; set-up and start-up.

So what am I doing? Well, that’s the interesting part. Most of you will know that I was an ordained minister at 23 with The Salvation Army. I left their ‘ministry job’ in 1995 just a few weeks before my Mum died and never looked back. I entered into local SA employment and climbed the ladder to become the Business Administrator. When I came out in 2000 I lost that job and all connections with the SA. That’s another story.

Since then I have held all kinds of jobs. But in 2013 I found out about a series of training courses available to me through The Celebrant Foundation and Institute. These courses have allowed me to get current with what’s going on in the ceremonial world. Short story, long (here’s the link to the long), I have been certified and now re-ordained so that I can now not only conduct end-of-life ceremonies (funerals, memorials, Celebrations of Life) which I’ve continued to do on and off through the years, but I am now licensed to conduct legal marriages in the province of British Columbia. I have also taken other levels of training including LGBTQ Ceremonies, Weddings, Healing/Transitional Ceremonies and more. My next jump will be my Masters’ level.

So, I’ve been trained and certified as a Certified Life-Cycle Celebrant™ and now have been permitted to start a business. I’m stoked!!! My site is still a work in progress. Perhaps one day I will actually be able to have one of those beautifully created sites. This one I’ve put together with a WordPress Theme (same way as I did this blog). So, have a look. If you have any suggestions or see any needed edits, please use the addy below to contact the Owner – Moi!!!

And if you know anyone that needs a ceremony, please refer them…

Full Site

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Contact

James@LifesJourneyCeremonies.ca

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It’s the Small Things

You know how we tend to worry about the small things. You know, those pesky details, perhaps in our latest project at work: “Did I do…?” “What if I didn’t…?” “What if he/she/they forgot..?” Or perhaps, “Of course! It’s my only day off in weeks and it’s cloudy!” Or, “God! I wish he’d learn to pick his socks up off of the floor!!! That’s what a laundry hamper is for!”

Well for me, right now, three weeks post, I find it’s the little things that I miss about my Gracie. Me coming out in the morning to find her laying on her doggie heating pad, snuggled into the beautiful red plush blanket. I would hear her before I saw her actually. As soon as I opened my door I’d hear a couple of ‘thump, thumps’ of her wee red and black ringed tail, and then the full-out tail crashing as she rolled over on her back and stretched for all she was worth begging for me to rub her tender, soft belly. I miss that little blonde patch on her back!

I also miss hearing the “pft, pft” sound that her pads made on the rug as she followed me around. I miss her scent! She always smelled so clean and baby-like, unless she was nervous or sick. I think Grace had only as many baths as she had years! Even then that was a blast! She would be so good in the sink, albeit rigid like an ironing board. Then I’d wrap her up in a big fluffy towel and give her a good rub, put her down on the tile floor for a slight slip and she’d go nuts rubbing herself on the rug and sniffing and sneezing.

But the small thing I miss the most? It’s her gentle energy as she would lie either on the heating pad or snuggled under a blanket beside me. Her quiet breathing. He gentle rising and falling belly as she slept soundly. The occasional whimper as she chased after a ball in her sleep. The quiet!

Oddly, it’s still quiet. But it’s missing something. It’s an empty quiet, if you know what I mean. It’s definitely getting better. I don’t cry at the drop of a hat now. In fact it’s been several days now since I cried at all. Funny! I just thought, the title to this entry, It’s the small things. She was small. Usually less than 10 pounds.

It’s different now than three weeks ago, though. Now I’m thankful for those small things. I’m thankful for the joy she brought me. I’m thankful for the early days alone when she’d bring me a torn up toy to play to literally shake me out of a funk. I’m thankful for the moments I had with her laying on the beach in Sechelt a few summers back. She was snuggled next to me in the scorching sun. She loved the sun. Like father like……Gracie. I had to set up a little tent that day with her green blanket and on the car blanket I carry with me in. But she was determined to be right beside me, even though I was wet with sweat and it was a bit uncomfortable.

This past Wednesday, Sarah and I went back to the Duncan Animal Hospital to pick up Gracie’s urn. We’ve decided not to bury her ashes. We’ve decided that we want to keep her in the urn. We’ve also decided to have a small memorial ceremony on June 26th, presided over by a fellow Life-Cycle Celebrant™. I’ve never been one who advocates keeping cremated remains of a person. But somehow, this is different. It’s Gracie.

It’s just one of those small things!

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Spring Has Sprung!

Saying Goodbye

It has been three months since I last wrote anything for my blog. I’ve been wrapped up in life and have neglected my Craft. And I can only offer excuses and not reasons for not taking 15 – 30 minutes – even every few days. Really! I love writing and the truth is I have tons of excuses but only one real reason…laziness!

I have a two-fold purpose for this posting:

• To say thank you
• To try to say goodbye

So let’s start with Thank you. Thank you to each and everyone one who has been so supportive to Sarah and me. And a special thank you goes to Sarah-even though you feel as terrible as I do, Tim and Michelle who have let me grieve they way I need to grieve. All of your kind words, thoughts, prayers, gifts of wonderful energy are so appreciated. If you’d said to me some ten years ago that I would experience the death of an animal companion and grieve so profoundly, I would have said, “Poppycock! How self-indulgent!”

We invite these animal companions into our lives and they become part of our family, even part of our identity. People here in Ladysmith are used to seeing me out and about with Gracie. This wonderful town is pretty dog-friendly. I could take her into the pet store, drugstore, butchers, café as well as other places. If Gracie wasn’t with me they’d ask after her.

I’ve had ‘pets’ come and go throughout of my life. But I’ve never felt so much pain and grief as I have with the death of my Gracie. She was to me a magnificent wee dog! She brought laughter to me when I was miserable. She brought warmth and healing when I was ill. She was my protector after my breakup nearly five years ago. She gave me reason to get up in the morning; she had to go out. She would bring one of her toys for me to play with her when I wasn’t feeling playful. She was a kindred spirit and, I believe, one of my soulmates through many incarnations.

She had her quirks, too! She didn’t like strange little elderly ladies. She’d growl and sometimes even go ballistic! She really didn’t care for little children either. Probably because they had a tendency to dive into her face. She’d growl at a child who was nearby in anticipation. She was also terrified of anything on wheels.

Since moving to our current apartment more than two years ago, Gracie stopped sleeping with me. Instead she would wait, every night, for the sound of Sarah’s car engine. Even after Sarah had traded her car in, it only took less than a week for Gracie to know the change. She would hear the car engine coming around the back of the building and start to growl and tremble working herself up into a frenzy so that when Sarah came through the door she’d fly off the couch (not good for Doxies by the way) with an explosion of barking. She had this very cute, what I called, hound bark. It was different from any other bark. It was a joyful bark.

So after spending the day with me she’d snuggle up to Sarah, just waiting for that moment when it was time to go out and then off to bed. She’d often even lead the way to bed! She loved sleeping with Sarah. And I know that Sarah misses that company.

I miss Gracie more than I can describe. Her last 2 ½ weeks were filled with inexplicable, excruciating pain. For the first few days, because I had been in and out of hospital myself, Sarah took on being nurse for both Gracie and me. After a few days I took over the night shifts. It would mean waiting up until midnight to give her pain meds and being woken either by alarm or her alarming screaming between 3am – 4am for another dose of meds; then a repeat at 7am – 8am. And the same throughout the day. It would mean cradling her through the gap between doses when the drugs wore thin.

On Good Friday she was inconsolable. When Sarah came home and neither of us, nor the drugs, could console her we agreed it had come time to say goodbye unless the Vet could assure us that she’d get better. I emphasize Good because the majority of Good Fridays throughout my life have been peppered with some sort of pain or sorrow. I can actually say I dread Easter as it approaches every year!

She’d been diagnosed with an injured neck. Likely caused with all the carfuffle the night I was taken to the hospital. We even thought it might be sympathy sickness. Then she was diagnosed with an infection. Then back to her neck. Then a stomach ulcer was added to the list. The new Vet at Chemainus Animal Hospital was not the sort I’d ever see again! He was filling in for our/Gracie’s favourite Vet, Dr. J. Pollock. The only words I can come up with without being crass that describe him are self-righteous and mean! He lectured me for giving Gracie a particular treat. It was the only treat that her sensitive tummy could stand during her short life. Apparently when I’d left her with him she crapped all over the floor and because the treat was charcoal-based her poop was blackened which was always the case even when she was healthy. So he diagnosed her with a stomach ulcer, likely caused from the Prednisone he’d put her on for her neck. He was then obviously angry because that ruined his quick diagnosis. Her poop wasn’t black because of the presence of blood in it. It was the treats!

Then in the last few days he lectured me, quite firmly shall we say, for giving Gracie too much pain meds. They weren’t working! What else could I do? They also sent us home over the previous weeks with THREE different syringes which were labelled completely differently. So it would have been easy to mix up the dosage because one syringe measured ml while the other measured cc and yet another measured both. The instructions were to give her between 3 – 5 ml. That was easy enough for me. I even used one syringe to measure out and compare to the others. Just so I didn’t accidentally overdose her. And then he said that she should be able to get through with only the Fentanyl patch. it was applied the day prior to her death. No need for other drugs!!! He was so controlling that he sent her home with me on that last Thursday with only 5 pre-filled syringes with pain meds. By Friday night there were only two left. I told him it wouldn’t be enough. I told him I was concerned that since it was the long weekend that we’d be left without proper support. But he said I was abusing the drugs! I told him that he had not given enough meds to get her through until the Fentanyl kicked in – if it kicked in! But he was right and I was stupid!!! But I know he was NOT right. And I am NOT stupid.

The final Vet, Dr. Wiley at Duncan Animal Hospital saw Gracie in her tortured and well-drugged state and could see she was in agony. She felt strongly that all previous diagnoses were incorrect and after checking Gracie’s neck for movement said it was likely neurologically based and likely an advanced case of Cryptococcosis. There was no hope for Gracie. It had gone too long.

I’ve spent some time (as long as my sadness could allow at a time) researching Cryptococcosis. It is possible that Gracie had picked up the fungal infection up to nearly a year ago. She may have had none or only the occasional symptom in that time. But it’s a weird infection in that it can sit dormant and then go crazy in the system.

So we said goodbye. I have only ever experienced that much grief when my parents died. No other person, and certainly no other pet could equal the amount of pain I’ve felt. I remember feeling like the grief of the collapse of my last marriage was horrible. But losing Gracie has gone way beyond that.

She is gone! I believe that she and I have travelled together through other lifetimes and we will again; perhaps, as Sarah told me at the time, even this lifetime again. Who knows? There is a great deal of controversy as to whether or not dogs, or animals in general, have souls. In the words of Allen and Linda Anderson in the book Saying Goodbye to your Angel Animals:

We believe that animals don’t have a soul. Animals ARE souls. We believe that animals and humans are cut from the same Divine cloth by the same Divine hand. As souls, we are all one; we are all interconnected. Each soul experiences life in whatever way serves it best spiritually in this lifetime…All souls grow spiritually in the sweet garden of unconditional love – an aspect of life in which animals tend to excel. Animals are masters at loving as God loves, unconditionally.

I believe that every person we have ANY contact with in our lifetimes are bound to us, and us to them, with a Sacred Contract.  There are many authors out there to study. My favourite is Dr. Caroline Myss.

The Andersons go on to say that There are profoundly sacred agreements that two souls, wearing the physical bodies of different species, can keep with each other.

I am so grateful for the nearly eight years we’ve had this time around. And although I will miss her terribly for a while and tons for the rest, I know we chose the best possible and merciful action. We couldn’t stand to watch our precious sweet, sweet girl suffering with no hope of alleviation.

We plan to have a memorial ceremony at which time we will bury her ashes. This will likely happen in June or July and will be officiated by one of my fellow Life-Cycle Celebrants™, Ceri Peacey. More details to follow. We have chosen the pet companion urn we will use for Gracie as well. This will be purchased from Honor Your Pet Aftercare Services.

To my sweet, sweet baby girl,

Gracie, when unexpected, you brought tears of joy to my sad eyes. You and your cute little bear-like paws. You allowed us to dress you up in an Elf/Santa’s Helper outfit at Christmas. You gladly wore some ugly sweaters until we found the best one that fit your long back and personality. You showed us that there is immense joy in the simple things; like a stinky, ripped-to-pieces piece of material that once resembled a squeaky animal toy that you disembowelled within minutes of receiving it as a gift.

You came into our lives as the runt of the litter. You left our lives leaving the biggest hole in our hearts. You came to us at just the right moment. But we feel you left us too soon! I know you didn’t really. That this was the agreed-to contract between us. I’d just hoped for another ten years at least.

I miss you terribly, my little darling.

Love Always,

Your Daddy

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Saying Goodbye

It has been three months since I last wrote anything for my blog. I've been wrapped up in life and have neglected my Craft. And I can only offer excuses and not reasons for not taking 15 - 30 minutes - even every few days. Really! I love writing and the truth is I have tons of excuses but only one real reason...laziness!

I have a two-fold purpose for this posting:

• To say thank you
• To try to say goodbye

So let's start with Thank you. Thank you to each and everyone one who has been so supportive to Sarah and me. And a special thank you goes to Sarah-even though you feel as terrible as I do, Tim and Michelle who have let me grieve they way I need to grieve. All of your kind words, thoughts, prayers, gifts of wonderful energy are so appreciated. If you'd said to me some ten years ago that I would experience the death of an animal companion and grieve so profoundly, I would have said, "Poppycock! How self-indulgent!"

We invite these animal companions into our lives and they become part of our family, even part of our identity. People here in Ladysmith are used to seeing me out and about with Gracie. This wonderful town is pretty dog-friendly. I could take her into the pet store, drugstore, butchers, café as well as other places. If Gracie wasn't with me they'd ask after her.

I've had 'pets' come and go throughout of my life. But I've never felt so much pain and grief as I have with the death of my Gracie. She was to me a magnificent wee dog! She brought laughter to me when I was miserable. She brought warmth and healing when I was ill. She was my protector after my breakup nearly five years ago. She gave me reason to get up in the morning; she had to go out. She would bring one of her toys for me to play with her when I wasn't feeling playful. She was a kindred spirit and, I believe, one of my soulmates through many incarnations.

She had her quirks, too! She didn't like strange little elderly ladies. She'd growl and sometimes even go ballistic! She really didn't care for little children either. Probably because they had a tendency to dive into her face. She'd growl at a child who was nearby in anticipation. She was also terrified of anything on wheels.

Since moving to our current apartment more than two years ago, Gracie stopped sleeping with me. Instead she would wait, every night, for the sound of Sarah's car engine. Even after Sarah had traded her car in, it only took less than a week for Gracie to know the change. She would hear the car engine coming around the back of the building and start to growl and tremble working herself up into a frenzy so that when Sarah came through the door she'd fly off the couch (not good for Doxies by the way) with an explosion of barking. She had this very cute, what I called, hound bark. It was different from any other bark. It was a joyful bark.

So after spending the day with me she'd snuggle up to Sarah, just waiting for that moment when it was time to go out and then off to bed. She'd often even lead the way to bed! She loved sleeping with Sarah. And I know that Sarah misses that company.

I miss Gracie more than I can describe. Her last 2 ½ weeks were filled with inexplicable, excruciating pain. For the first few days, because I had been in and out of hospital myself, Sarah took on being nurse for both Gracie and me. After a few days I took over the night shifts. It would mean waiting up until midnight to give her pain meds and being woken either by alarm or her alarming screaming between 3am - 4am for another dose of meds; then a repeat at 7am - 8am. And the same throughout the day. It would mean cradling her through the gap between doses when the drugs wore thin.

On Good Friday she was inconsolable. When Sarah came home and neither of us, nor the drugs, could console her we agreed it had come time to say goodbye unless the Vet could assure us that she'd get better. I emphasize Good because the majority of Good Fridays throughout my life have been peppered with some sort of pain or sorrow. I can actually say I dread Easter as it approaches every year!

She'd been diagnosed with an injured neck. Likely caused with all the carfuffle the night I was taken to the hospital. We even thought it might be sympathy sickness. Then she was diagnosed with an infection. Then back to her neck. Then a stomach ulcer was added to the list. The new Vet at Chemainus Animal Hospital was not the sort I'd ever see again! He was filling in for our/Gracie's favourite Vet, Dr. J. Pollock. The only words I can come up with without being crass that describe him are self-righteous and mean! He lectured me for giving Gracie a particular treat. It was the only treat that her sensitive tummy could stand during her short life. Apparently when I'd left her with him she crapped all over the floor and because the treat was charcoal-based her poop was blackened which was always the case even when she was healthy. So he diagnosed her with a stomach ulcer, likely caused from the Prednisone he'd put her on for her neck. He was then obviously angry because that ruined his quick diagnosis. Her poop wasn't black because of the presence of blood in it. It was the treats!

Then in the last few days he lectured me, quite firmly shall we say, for giving Gracie too much pain meds. They weren't working! What else could I do? They also sent us home over the previous weeks with THREE different syringes which were labelled completely differently. So it would have been easy to mix up the dosage because one syringe measured ml while the other measured cc and yet another measured both. The instructions were to give her between 3 - 5 ml. That was easy enough for me. I even used one syringe to measure out and compare to the others. Just so I didn't accidentally overdose her. And then he said that she should be able to get through with only the Fentanyl patch. it was applied the day prior to her death. No need for other drugs!!! He was so controlling that he sent her home with me on that last Thursday with only 5 pre-filled syringes with pain meds. By Friday night there were only two left. I told him it wouldn't be enough. I told him I was concerned that since it was the long weekend that we'd be left without proper support. But he said I was abusing the drugs! I told him that he had not given enough meds to get her through until the Fentanyl kicked in - if it kicked in! But he was right and I was stupid!!! But I know he was NOT right. And I am NOT stupid.

The final Vet, Dr. Wiley at Duncan Animal Hospital saw Gracie in her tortured and well-drugged state and could see she was in agony. She felt strongly that all previous diagnoses were incorrect and after checking Gracie's neck for movement said it was likely neurologically based and likely an advanced case of Cryptococcosis. There was no hope for Gracie. It had gone too long.

I've spent some time (as long as my sadness could allow at a time) researching Cryptococcosis. It is possible that Gracie had picked up the fungal infection up to nearly a year ago. She may have had none or only the occasional symptom in that time. But it's a weird infection in that it can sit dormant and then go crazy in the system.

So we said goodbye. I have only ever experienced that much grief when my parents died. No other person, and certainly no other pet could equal the amount of pain I've felt. I remember feeling like the grief of the collapse of my last marriage was horrible. But losing Gracie has gone way beyond that.

She is gone! I believe that she and I have travelled together through other lifetimes and we will again; perhaps, as Sarah told me at the time, even this lifetime again. Who knows? There is a great deal of controversy as to whether or not dogs, or animals in general, have souls. In the words of Allen and Linda Anderson in the book Saying Goodbye to your Angel Animals:

We believe that animals don't have a soul. Animals ARE souls. We believe that animals and humans are cut from the same Divine cloth by the same Divine hand. As souls, we are all one; we are all interconnected. Each soul experiences life in whatever way serves it best spiritually in this lifetime...All souls grow spiritually in the sweet garden of unconditional love - an aspect of life in which animals tend to excel. Animals are masters at loving as God loves, unconditionally.

I believe that every person we have ANY contact with in our lifetimes are bound to us, and us to them, with a Sacred Contract.  There are many authors out there to study. My favourite is Dr. Caroline Myss.

The Andersons go on to say that There are profoundly sacred agreements that two souls, wearing the physical bodies of different species, can keep with each other.

I am so grateful for the nearly eight years we've had this time around. And although I will miss her terribly for a while and tons for the rest, I know we chose the best possible and merciful action. We couldn't stand to watch our precious sweet, sweet girl suffering with no hope of alleviation.

We plan to have a memorial ceremony at which time we will bury her ashes. This will likely happen in June or July and will be officiated by one of my fellow Life-Cycle Celebrants™, Ceri Peacey. More details to follow. We have chosen the pet companion urn we will use for Gracie as well. This will be purchased from Honor Your Pet Aftercare Services.

To my sweet, sweet baby girl,

Gracie, when unexpected, you brought tears of joy to my sad eyes. You and your cute little bear-like paws. You allowed us to dress you up in an Elf/Santa's Helper outfit at Christmas. You gladly wore some ugly sweaters until we found the best one that fit your long back and personality. You showed us that there is immense joy in the simple things; like a stinky, ripped-to-pieces piece of material that once resembled a squeaky animal toy that you disembowelled within minutes of receiving it as a gift.

You came into our lives as the runt of the litter. You left our lives leaving the biggest hole in our hearts. You came to us at just the right moment. But we feel you left us too soon! I know you didn't really. That this was the agreed-to contract between us. I'd just hoped for another ten years at least.

I miss you terribly, my little darling.

Love Always,

Your Daddy

Where Have All the Writers Gone?

I’m often fascinated by numbers, especially when they show up like today’s date–06.01.06. It probably means absolutely nothing. On the other hand it can mean whatever someone wants it to mean. That’s when I really understand that we create our own reality–through interpretation. I can walk by a lady who has a glaring look and think she’s angry at me, or someone, or the world! Or, perhaps it’s the only looks that she has. Or, perhaps she is upset and needs a jolly “hello!’’ and a big smile. I’ve on occasion gotten a thrill out of the person’s reaction to that jolly ”hello!”, like almost dropping what they’re carrying or tripping or suddenly becoming aware that they have a face like thunder. It may only be that they aren’t present to the here and now and are elsewhere in their thoughts. But I can still interpret it as I will.
It’s the same with texting and emails. People saying one thing and the reader interprets a totally different thing. I’ve done it and likely will do it again, myself. It depends on my mood, not the sender really. Even if they wanted to sound harsh I could still interpret it as a note that shows them as sad or upset with me or not even anything to do with me. On the other hand they could be expressing something one way and I take total offence to it!
People, today also use texting, especially, to say things that they would never say to someone’s face. It’s akin to liquor. The inhibitions seem to be lowered.
That said I’ve noticed that ‘the art of writing’ is gone and a lot of text messages don’t even flow. The emoticons or shortened words like the letter ‘u’ = you, or ‘w’ = with or ‘nvm’ = never mind or ‘OMG’ = Oh my God! So there is no real craft in what is being written anymore, which it then takes away purposeful or wonderful for artful communication. After all it wasn’t all that many years ago, before texting, before email, that letterwriting was TAUGHT in school and everyone used it to chat to relatives, loved ones, friends and associates across the globe.
It was before my time, but men and women became smitten by artful writing, leading to courtship, then to engagement and marriage. If I were to announce to my kids, or anyone for that matter, that I had started to corresponding with a potential mate, became smitten and was now engaged without ever having spoken, texted or emailed I would be deemed as nuts-period! You didn’t have to be an artist (writer) to do this. You just have to be passionate enough to be able to express your feelings. Not writing so that someone would interpret what they think you were saying-plain and simple!
I can remember when I started recording cassette tapes with Mum to Nana. I still have many that were returned from Nana although I have no way of playing them back now. It was so ‘cool’ to hear her voice and laugh and communicate expression that way. It would cost an absolute bundle now to send cassette tapes via our dear Canada Post.
But why bother when you have a email or texting???


My Journal January 6th, 2016


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Jeremiah 29:11 – A New View for Me

Over the last 5+ years there has been a verse from the Old Testament of the Bible that has come up again and again. I believe that it was being given to me by the Universe/God/Goddess/whatever your favourite title is. After the first couple of instances I had a knowing that this was a promise being made to me.

But it wasn’t until Mid November 2015 that it suddenly jumped out at me with new meaning and conviction. On the morning of the 14^th, I was starting my day, the way I often do, with writing in my journal and quiet time. I had been quite down for the past several days. I was questioning ‘why?’ – a really good sign that I’m feeling sorry for myself. As many of you will remember, Friday the 13^th was the day that ISIS struck at the heart of Paris. I had been glued to the TV all day and was very emotional. I have such a struggle trying to make sense of such senseless violence, or any violent act really.

See, I believe with all my heart that we ALL are, at the very centre of ourselves, our Soul, our Higher Self, naturally good. I find it so difficult to understand what would drive that goodness so deep that the only thing left is a 21 year old blowing themselves up for a cause that is so disturbed.

That aside, I had been in the dumps for days. So watching this horror in Paris just added to the blackness in my mind. So when I arose on the Saturday I didn’t turn on the TV to see what the latest developments were, I went to my quiet time.

I had had a very physically painful night and very little sleep as a result. It is hard to understand nerve pain unless you have felt it. The only way I can describe it to people is to say that it feels like I’ve been plugged into a wall socket and the ‘buzzing’ feeling that results just doesn’t quit. There is no switch to turn it off. Although I know the risks of modern medication, I am grateful for it; because without I would surely go insane – literally!

I wrote in my journal about the events of the past few days, the pain I was enduring once again, the misery in France – generally feeling super sorry for myself and then beating myself up for feeling this way because here I was comfortable and safe while Parisians were living in terror. Then out of the blue I heard the verse come to me again. I say again, because it has been part of the RIDE for the past few years:

I know the plans I have for you,
to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.

With it came the following. The BOLD words are the ‘new’ version I was sensing:

I, your Soul, your Higher Self, know the plans and contracts I have for you,
to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.

Knowing this ‘Interpretation’ of Jeremiah 29:11 is it now more empowering for me. I see that because it is a message for me it is also a message from me. It shows me that I have had a large part in planning all of this; that I chose this path before my incarnation to this life.

• It shows me that my Higher Self or Soul (me) have made these plans = contracts.
• It shows me the plan is: To prosper me!
• It shows me that no real harm can come to me because my Soul cannot be harmed.
  • My body and all its issues are not me
  • My mind, depression, sorrow and grief, are not me
  • I can deal with these feelings about the past, my health, my finances, my vocation and I must. But I am not these issues.
  • They are just energy that swirl around me, trying to deceive me into believing me this is the way it is. But it’s not! I am not any of these; therefore it is not the way for me.

The last part was still a bit vague but I trusted and continued to write. To give you hope and future. Is it perhaps just that simple?

• Are the keywords here give you, as in a gift?
• Perhaps all I need do is accept this gift and realize that although my Finite Incarnation (my brain) doesn’t get it, that my Infinite Self, my Soul, My Higher Self does get it.
• Perhaps all I need do is accept the gift. Can it be that easy? Is it that easy?

Well I’m not going to refuse a gift, so then that leaves me with “I will and do accept this gift”.

I ask my guides to help me understand it and use it in the way my soul planned for me to use it.

From My Journal, November 14^th, 2015

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