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While you are upon the earth, enjoy the good things that are here.

John Seldon

We tend to see imperfections, things, that at first glance, don’t fit right. They stand in our way like obtrusive obstacles.

But what would happen if we purposely looked for beauty?

I think we would find beauty. I think we would see how each inanimate object, each living creature, including you and me, can bring balance and create beauty in our world.


Of beauty, khalil Gibran writes,

…a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.


The Story of Your Life


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That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I recently read that when you want to bulk up your muscles by working out, it tears your muscle and creates a scar. That scar is what makes your muscle bulkier and makes you stronger.

Reading that reminded me of the above quote.

Every scar. Every physical, emotional and spiritual wound. Every stretch mark you endure, tells the story of your life. It shows what you have endured and survived, and makes you stronger.

Our scars make us stronger. They make us more beautiful, more uniquely us, and as an extra bonus, more compassionate and kind toward others. They tell the story of our life.

But just as with any workout routine, you first decide to be healthier, you embrace the current discomfort, you work through the pain, you rest when you need to, and then do it again. it takes time to see the results.

Consider this the next time you feel broken.


Happy 22nd Birthday Oxford House!


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I’ve been working here at Oxford House for just little over two years and I can attest to what a great organization it is!

Hardly a day goes by that I am not hearing an amazing story, or learning something new about myself about honesty, integrity, sweating the small stuff, and the list goes on and on!

So I’ve just now decided a small way I can give back. As soon as I’ve published this post, I am making a $22 donation to Oxford House in honour of its 22nd birthday here  and I’m going to challenge you to do the same.


if you’ve ever been helped by Oxford House, or you know someone who has, or you knew Ron MacMillan, Founder and past executive director of Oxford House, and want to donate in his name, or you know someone who is struggling with addiction or has lost their battle with addiction, and you just want to help someone else in their name, who is living in an Oxford House, will you consider donating today?

Thank you for considering my request.


Click here to download a copy of Oxford House’s annual report


Running Eagle


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I care not what people say of me so long as I do right. I shall never be any man’s slave.

~ Running Eagle

Running Eagle was the oldest of five children; a female warrior who chafed against the expectations for her as a girl.

During a hunt, she rescued her father, riding head on into a hail of hostile fire after his horse was shot out from under him. Her tribe celebrated her daring exploits, but some members of the community rejected her because she wasn’t behaving like a woman.

The first time she followed a raiding party the leader tried to turn her away. She refused to leave and he threatened to cancel the raid altogether. Brown Weasel Woman countered: If you cancel the raid against the Crows I will go on by myself, she told him.

She won the argument and the battle, distinguishing herself by capturing 11 horses and defeating two enemy warriors who counter-attacked the raiding party as it returned to the Peigan camp.

It was only after she completed a vision quest that she was accepted. She was invited to participate in a Medicine Lodge Ceremony and given the name Running Eagle-which was reserved for only the greatest warriors – the first time it was bestowed on a woman.

Running Eagle never married, led many successful hunts and war parties, and fell in combat against Flathead warriors sometime after 1878.


* I found this amazing story, posted by the YWCA on Instagram, and copied it here, word for word. This story reminds me that when I feel strongly about something, I shouldn’t let a little opposition stand in my way. Have a wonderful Sunday!

What If She Forgets Me?


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Mom in the Dominican Republic

This loss spills out over things I never thought it would touch and i am shattered by the falsehood of permanence.

– Chloe Frayne

She’s slipping away, bit by bit. In many ways I’ve already lost the woman I’ve known as mother all my life. She’s being replaced with a new woman, one who has endearing qualities of her own, one who although a stranger to me, I’m struggling to know.

What a conundrum to build a new relationship, when memories created moments ago, are forgotten as quickly as they are experienced.

Yet what a gift it is in teaching me how to ‘live in the moment, love in the moment,‘ right in the moment we have.

She may not remember my visit, or the laughs we shared at the dinner table, or the conversation we had on the phone, or that the big-comfy-after-bath-housecoat I bought her, is hanging in her closet, but I hope with all my heart, the love shared in these moments transcends the moments, and makes its home in her heart forever, even if one day, she forgets me.


I’ll remember for us both, love you mom.


My Word For 2018


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Have you ever noticed that the circumstances in life that you struggle with the most seem to repeat themselves over and over again, until you finally find a way to handle them differently?

In past years, I have chosen a word for the upcoming new year. Words like tenacity and service, or perhaps the words actually chose me as my friend Louise Gallagher, over at Dare Boldly has often suggested.

I am certain that my word for 2018 chose me.

Let It Go.

Yes, I know those are three words, but no single word I’ve found, such as release, or surrender, or acquiesce, have fully meant to me what those three little words have come to mean.

I realize, as well, that those three little words have not just made their debut in 2017. They have been waiting patiently at the sidelines for three years, maybe more.

You see, in my family, an issue arises and we scramble to “Fix It”. This works well when it’s a manageable situation like, my car won’t start – call AMA, or my computer is acting up – have you tried rebooting it.

Yet there are many situations in life where you can do all you know to do, and it doesn’t get fixed. There are variables that are simply out of your control, and those are the very things, in my case, that can roll around in my head like a PowerPoint presentation or video that has been set to ‘continuous loop.’

That loop can take over, and more often than not, it prevents me from taking action in other situations, over which I actually have some measure of power to make a difference.

And so, those three little words unassumingly step forward for the millionth time to gently nudge me, encourage me to recognize, to really see that it is time to let it go, to trust, and accept, and even embrace the natural unfolding of what is.

And yes, it really is as simple as that.

Wishing you all an amazing 2018 filled with courage, growth, resiliency and love,


I am not alone.

I’m so excited for this event tonight, and that Louise graciously agreed to speak at it!

Dare boldly

Unexpectedly, I am self-conscious.

Unexpectedly, I wonder if my words have meaning. Depth. Substance.

Most mornings when I write in this space, I am simply present. No artifice. No ‘gotta make people think this, feel that’. No, hmmm, what message shall I give today? It’s just me, the velvet night turning light outside my office window, the desk lamp casting a golden glow upon my keyboard and Beaumont, curled up on the floor behind me, sleeping.

This morning, the critter awoke and ego mind leapt into the fray. “You gotta make sure your words have meaning, Louise. You gotta write important stuff!”

The critter is a devious character. He likes to try to convince me that what I write must come from my mind. “Your heart is too soft,” he says. “Your heart will get you into trouble. Take care. Listen up and listen only to me. I will tell…

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The Sheer Force of Sorrow


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When you use the sheer force of your sorrow to crack open your heart, it promises to drop you down into a deeper capacity for compassion and care for all living beings. You become initiated into your own humanity in a way that connects you to all life. Such is the paradox of grief. It holds the power to either destroy or to save you. Which one is up to you.

Katherine Woodward Thomas


Getting Old Sucks


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You Ain’t Nothing But A Groundhog?

Margot Schwenk, November 2017

“What is the name of that singer I really liked?” mom asked me, sitting across the booth from me at her ‘second home’ at Vieux Chateau in Hawkesbury, ON. “You know, the guy who sang, ‘You ain’t nothing but a groundhog?’

How interesting that mom would ask that question, with the mistaken groundhog instead of the actual hound-dog from the song she so loved by Elvis Presley, since my brother and I had recently discussed how life with mom is sort of like the movie Groundhog Day.

Two years ago, mine and Mike’s dad, and mom’s husband of 56 years passed away. Mom hasn’t been the same since. How can someone go on when their husband, whom they have spent more than half their life with, is suddenly gone.

It hasn’t been easy for mom, or for us kids who are witnesses to the profound sadness that saturates mom’s reality. And just recently mom has also had to give up driving and leave the home that she and dad built together to move into a retirement home.

Getting old sucks!

We try to tell ourselves otherwise to make ourselves feel better, but it’s a shit show of giving up independence and autonomy. Sure, one can still find joy in moments and be grateful for what remains, but as in the case of mom, that takes a great deal of re-focusing and determination.

You see, mom isn’t who she once was. She has become very forgetful and displays signs of dementia, and she knows it. Imagine if half your brain was breaking down, and the other half was fully aware of it. It can’t be easy for her. And she is different. She’s not the mom we knew. But the new Margot is beautiful. She’s compassionate. She is concerned about the future of, and misses, her family immensely.

During my one-week visit, I watched mom reach out to others who are struggling, doling out hugs, taking the arm of a woman who has pain when she walks. Mom is fierce in her efforts to help and protect others, because she knows firsthand what it means to feel helpless. She is beautifully compassionate when she hugs and cries with those who are hurting. And although she doesn’t feel it, she is brave, emotionally connected and a light in the darkness.

It’s not been easy for us, her kids, because we are heartbroken with the cards that life has dealt mom. We feel guilty because we can’t spend as much time as we would like with her. And yet, we are so proud of her and so in awe of her ability to FEEL the moment and experience it in the moment.

I don’t mind so much when she cries, because that is RAW honesty, and it passes. She feels it. Accepts it. And moves on. I guess the hardest part is when she panics, when she feels that she screwed up in someway, when the chaotic thoughts in her head send her into a tailspin. Thankfully, these episodes seem to be less, now that she gets her medication dispensed by a nurse at the correct times.

Don’t misread me. It’s not all gloom and doom. Mom’s only been in her new home for a month. She needs time to mourn what’s she’s lost, and grow accustomed to her new surroundings. We do have high hopes of a meaningful quality of life experience for her moving forward. We look forward to a possible trip with the whole family to Germany, mom’s homeland, and we look forward to a June wedding between my daughter and her fiancé.

But I don’t think we are fully off the hook. Individually, and as a society, we need to take a long, hard look at how we treat the elderly. How do we make sure that there is still “life” in their lives? How do we create an environment where joy can exist? How do we move away from ‘doing everything’ for them to ‘helping them find their new purpose?’ How do we move away from the warehousing of elderly people, to an integrated model of all society that includes children and all ages? And how do we keep the conversation going until we find it?

Getting old sucks, but it doesn’t have to…

Check out the amazing results that happened after this cool 6 week experiment.


Mom lives at Place Mont Roc now; a wonderful place, run by wonderful people, helping wonderful people. Their kindness is amazing and it’s a great foundation on which to build what we can further do to respect and keep the dignity of our seniors; our moms and dads.

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