New Places, New Friends

Traveling not only give us the opportunity to see new places and experience new things, but it also brings new people into our lives. These people add special meaning to a vacation and many of them may remain friends long after the vacation is over. On my recent trip to Kauai, Hawaii, I met several wonderful people who I made immediate connections with.

The first connection was made after a church service in the lovely village of Hanalei. The pastor at the historical and beautiful Wai’oli Hui’ia Church was warm and friendly and eagerly invited any newcomers to stand, announce our names, and tell the congregation where we came from. The members of my family were the only ones who were Canadian.

After the service, a woman approached me and introduced herself as Carol Ann.

“My husband Michael and I are from Ontario too!” she said as she enthusiastically pumped my hand. “We love Hawaii. It’s such a special place.”

Later we ran into them again that same day at a slack-key guitar concert we went to and, this time, we spent a little more time chatting and we took a picture of the two of us for remembrance. We exchanged e-mails and said it would be wonderful if we stayed in touch once we returned home to Canada.

A few days later, my family was in the village of Kapa’a and, upon arrival, we each went our own way to do some shopping. I stopped in to a ladieswear shop called Tropical Tantrum. It was a feast for the eyes! The racks were full of tie-dyed and batik dresses and other clothes and accessories, each one original, each one bursting with colour, each one temptingly beautiful. I was drawn to one dress in deep purple jewel tones, spotted with soft turquoise butterflies. It reminded me so much of Tom, my deceased husband and our special relationship with butterflies. It wasn’t cheap so I decided to go for lunch and think about it. It didn’t take long. After lunch, I immediately returned to the store. This time the clerk, Charlene Wolfe, and I struck up a conversation. I told her about being a widow and that’s what drew me to the dress.

“I’m a widow too,” she said, “but I have remarried.”

I told her my husband’s name was Tom.

“That was the name of my husband too,” she exclaimed.

We both marvelled at the coincidence and I left her my business card and told her about my book “10” and my blog.

Little did I know, later that day she checked out my book on Amazon and was able to read a preview of the book. It told my introductory story of finding dimes everywhere and how the number 10 played such an important part in Tom’s and my life. At the end of the day, she had to count the $300 float and, lo and behold, she found it to be two dimes short. She was astonished at the synchronicity of it all. Barb came into my store two times, we both are widows, both our husbands’ names were Tom. I have to tell her. She immediately tried to call me, then text me but I wasn’t answering. (I wasn’t using my phone on this holiday.) As a last resort, she e-mailed me at the address on the business card.

The next day, my family had gone on a river cruise in the morning but stopped at Kapa’a for lunch. My brother Peter, his wife Sharon and I decided we wanted to try out a shrimp place so we dropped my sister Audrey and her husband Ted off and headed back to the restaurant. When we returned to the heart of the downtown area, it was very busy and parking was at a premium. We circled around once and then finally found a spot – right in front of the Tropical Tantrum Store. Who was in the doorway, talking to her husband, but the beautiful Charlene. She was shocked to see me!

“I’ve been trying to get you all day. Ed, this is the woman I was telling you about,” she said to her husband.

She eagerly shared her story and we both marveled at the magic of it all.

On our last day in Kauai, I dropped my family off at the airport so they could catch their 11 a.m. flight to Oahu. I, on the other hand, was returning to Canada on a much later flight, so I kept the rental car for the day and headed off to Kalapaki Beach in the town of Lihue.

At the end of the day, I was sitting at a picnic table under the trees so I could watch the beach scene and enjoy the scenery and people. One by one, locals started dropping in to sit at and near my table. One of them introduced herself, Monica, and said that she had just finished her work shift as a bus driver and every day she and her friends came down to these tables to just enjoy the sun, some cold beers, some music, a bit of food, and each other’s company. I ended up spending a wonderful two hours with these friendly locals and felt totally welcomed into their group. When I left, I made sure I took a picture of them so I could remember them.

One of them, Raymond, said, “I have something for you.” He dug into a box in the back of his truck and handed me a beautiful purple sarong. “To remember us by,” he said.

Each of them gave me a hug before I left and Monica called out to me as I was walking away. “If you’re ever here in Lihue again, drop in. We’ll be here.”

I smiled and told her I would be sure to do that.

Sitting in the boarding area at the Lihue Airport, I found myself sitting beside a woman and her husband. We got talking and found out that we both were retired teachers, and both our names were Barb. She and her husband had cut their vacation short due to an illness. They were flying back to Vancouver, then Calgary. We exchanged emails. I think of Barb and her husband often and hope they made it home okay.

My final new friendship was totally unexpected and I never did find out her name but we had a very special time together. The five hour flight from Lihue to Vancouver was a red-eye flight. The lights were turned low and most of the passengers slept for the duration. That, at least, was the plan. A few hours into the flight, I was awakened by a baby crying somewhere in the seats behind me. It was wailing, totally distraught, and would not be comforted by its mother at all. One by one, people started waking and lights were turning on. The flight attendants stopped at the parents’ seat and offered assistance but to no avail. The baby kept screaming and was getting more and more wound up. The staff decided to give us some beverages and snacks and for a while, we all were preoccupied with that, as the baby continued to cry. I felt so sorry for first, the baby, as it was so frantic and would not be comforted, and secondly, the parents, who I was sure were trying desperately to comfort their child but nothing was helping. The situation was getting tense. I thought, “Somebody needs to help them. Maybe I can do something.”

Very gently, I approached the parents and said, “Can I help in some way? I’m a gramma. I’ve held a number of babies in my time. Can I hold her? I don’t know if it will help but I’m willing to try.”

The mom looked at her little girl in her arms and said to her, “Do you want to go with this lady?” and, lo and behold, the little girl reached both arms up to me to be held.

I took her into my arms and just started walking up the aisle, shushing the little girl with comforting sounds, stroking her head of golden curls, and singing soft songs to her. I stopped up at the top of the aisle and just stayed there, rocking her and singing to her, as she slowly stopped crying, and began to gulp air in giant hiccups as she settled down. Bit by bit, she relaxed more and more, until I could feel her weight getting heavier and heavier in my arms. Slowly I shifted her to a cradle hold and just continued to hum soft lullabies to her. As she fell deeper and deeper into sleep, the flight attendant asked me if I wanted to sit down in the front seat which was empty. I told her I better not as every time I stopped rocking her she would wake and  whimper.

“Would you like a blanket?” she asked.

“She’s pretty hot. She got so worked up. I think she’s okay,” I replied.

She asked me, “Do you know the family?”

I shook my head and said, “No, but I know what it’s like to be holding a baby that won’t be soothed. I can only imagine what that momma felt like, so I stepped in to help.”

The flight attendant shook her head. “Wow. You’re a baby whisperer.”

Finally, I felt the baby was deep enough asleep that I could return her to her parents. Slowly, sidling sideways down the aisle to seat number 10 where they were sitting, I leaned over and gently put the little one in her mother’s arms. She immediately woke up and began to cry, reaching up to me, not wanting to leave my arms. I smiled and took her back and she instantly stopped crying.

“I’ll just sit here behind you in this empty seat,” I said, “and we’ll let her sleep.”

And that’s what I did for the next while until we entered air turbulence and we were told we should all buckle up for safety. I returned her to her parents and she woke out of a dead sleep and began to cry again. This time I just leaned over her, uttering soft shushing sounds and stroked her hair and forehead. She stopped crying every time she heard my voice, so the parents began to imitate my actions and voice. By this time, the plane was bouncing around quite erratically and I decided I better get back to my seat. The little one kept crying but not as badly and we knew that we were very close to landing.

Once we landed, we all disembarked and I thought that was the end of the story. Imagine my surprise, as I headed to my new boarding area for the final jaunt home to Toronto, I saw the family off to the side rearranging carry-on items.

The mom smiled when she saw me and said, “There’s your friend.”

As they walked off in front of me, the little girl looked over her mother’s shoulder and locked eyes with me. As they turned the corner to head off to their boarding area to Edmonton, I gave a final wave to my new little friend — a most precious one.

So — two weeks in Kauai, many new friendly encounters, and good memories. Travel offers us not only a change of scenery but an opportunity to form new bonds and widen our circle of friendship. That alone makes it so beneficial.

Cracked Open

December 11, 2018, was the anniversary of Tom, my beloved husband’s death. Eight years ago, he passed away into another world. Facebook, my main social media site, has a feature that takes you back on your timeline with each passing day. You are able to see what you did and said on December 11 from 2008, 2009, and so on. I was able to trace my life for the weeks and days preceding Tom’s death. I could see all the things that were happening and my comments on them, and I couldn’t help but think over and over again, If I only knew that one week later, three days later, Tom would be dead. It put a very different perspective on life for me. We just never know, do we, what life will bring. It reminded me even more to live each day fully, with zest. This is the main theme of my book, our story, in 10 – A Story of Love, Life, and Loss that I published after Tom’s death. His death and the grief over the subsequent years has taught me much about living a full life.

Grief has softened me. Not at first. First I felt raw and torn, laid open like a jagged wound. But with time that has healed and in the opening of that wound, deep in my gut, I have come to recognize a soft, vulnerable place. And I mean I physically feel it that way. There used to be a hole, a place where the pain of losing Tom and never having him in my life again sat like a dark cavern. It has been replaced. Now there is a fullness filling that empty hole, a soft spot, almost like the yolk inside an egg. It sits in the same place, never forgetting, but always accepting. Tom’s death took away a piece of my soul, but left behind a soft, accepting centre of love and gratitude. It may be delicate, but it’s not weak. In its softness is strength, courage, empathy. It’s pliable, secure, and forgiving.

Reading Mark Nepo’s , The Book of Awakening, I came across this passage. He seems to know about that soft spot within that comes after deep pain. He writes:

“It leads me to say that if you are unhappy or in pain, nothing will remove those surfaces. But acceptance and a strong heart will crack them like a shell, exposing a soft thing waiting to take form. It glows. I think it is the one spirit we all share.”

Grief has cracked me open, and because I was able to look and experience it full in the face, it has left behind a soft jewel in the centre of my soul.

Tradition

“Because of our traditions, we have kept our balance for many, many years.”

~ Teyve – Fiddler on the Roof

This weekend some of my Christmas traditions kicked in, helping to ignite my Christmas spirit.

I attended the Toonie Turkey Supper at St. John’s Anglican Church, Orangeville, where friends from the past gathered to enjoy a delicious turkey dinner with all the trimmings — a night meant to celebrate community and promote fellowship.

That same night, my family went downtown to celebrate the seasonal Tractor Parade of Lights. It was fun to be so close to the roaring tractors and big farm machinery and rigs all lit up with twinkling, colourful lights.

The next morning, we took the grandchildren to the annual Candy Cane Fair at the local hospital. For $2, the grandchildren were escorted away by an elf to choose and wrap a small gift for their mom, dad, grandma, or grandpa. This event is meant to help children get into the spirit of gift-giving during the holiday season and raise some funds for hospital equipment. Santa was there with Mrs. Claus for picture taking and there were craft tables and raffle tickets.

We went home again but only for a short while before we headed downtown again for the annual Santa Claus Parade with its colourful floats, marching bands and community participation.

Traditions are important. They give us a sense of belonging and add a secure rhythm to the seasons. They bring family and community together to enrich our lives and create memories. Through traditions, we reconnect with each other, find balance in our lives, and a little bit of magic.

What are some of your traditions?

Flying Lesson #1

Flying Lesson #1                                                                                Barbara Heagy

Come fly with me.

Oh, I don’t think so.                                                                                                                                                                                      

            I can’t do that.

Yes, you can.

Just step close to the edge

And let go.

No. I’m not made for flying.

            I’m heavy, clumsy, aerodynamically unsound.

            Birds are made for flying,

            Not me.

It’s all in the attitude.

If you feel light and free,

You will be light and free.

Come. Let go.

No. It’s not natural.

            I am not a flier.

            Supernatural powers would

            Have to be involved here.

We are all fliers

If we let ourselves be.

We are all meant to soar

High above the limitations

We set on ourselves.

But I’m scared.

            I would be alone.

            What if I begin to fall?

Trust me.

You are a flier.

You are meant to fly.

It will be as natural

And effortless and easy

As it is for a bird that steps out on a branch

and casts its body into the breeze.

But you have to believe,

And you have to stretch out your wings.

Gather up your courage

And jump.

You will not be alone.

The wind and the air will be your companions.

Well, if I’m meant to fly

            Let me not be

            As loose things

            Tossed about at the whim of the wind.

            Dust and leaves and dandelion seeds

            Are not for me.

            I want to be as sure as

            The goose in its yearly migration

            About its destination.

No,

There are no guarantees.

But I can promise you this;

The world of flight

Will be full

Of wonder and surprises.

You will find freedom

And new strength

As you glide

And soar and swoop

Over unknown worlds.

And you will be

More than you ever dreamed you could be.

You sound so sure of yourself.

I am.

You make it sound so easy.

It is.

Now, are you ready?

Let’s F L Y . . . . . .

Creativity and Spirituality

Back in 2003, I graduated with my Masters in Dance. My thesis was a study in the relationship between creativity and spirituality. For my closing remarks I included a poem I had written comparing the artist and the spiritual seeker.
 
“To be creative, we must be open, receptive, yielding.
To be spiritual, we must be open, receptive, yielding.
The artist asks and waits expectantly for the answer.
The spiritual seeker asks and waits expectantly for the answer.The artist trusts and steps forward in faith into the unknown.
The spiritual seeker trusts and steps forward in faith into the unknown.

The artist listens, observes, tastes life, then responds in action based on contemplation.
The spiritual seeker listens, observes, tastes life, then responds in action based on contemplation.

When we are creative, we give back the gift we have been given.
When we are spiritual, we give back the gift we have been given.

The artist in in awe of the world. For the artist, the world is truly a wonderful (WONDER FULL) source of learning and inspiration.
The spiritual seeker is in awe of the world. For the spiritual one, the world is truly a wonderful (WONDER FULL) source of learning and inspiration.”

(written as Barbara McQuarrie, Thesis title ” Dancing to the Still Point: The Expression of Creativity and Spirituality Through Movement and Dance in a Christian Retreat Setting”)

Writing for Healing – A Response Poem to Rumi

Back in June, I attended a writing workshop with Kat McNichol called “Writing for Healing” in Eden Mills. As one of the quick writing prompts, I wrote a poem Not Me.  It was written in response to the poet Rumi’s poem Not Here.

When the poem was introduced to us by Kat, I had such a negative internal response that I decided I should just deal with it in a written response. The result, created in five minutes, showed me the level of anger and weariness I had in dealing with the grief of my deceased husband and love of my life.

Kat asked if she could publish the poem in her online newsletter. Check out the poems (Rumi’s original and mine) and other stories by clicking on the link below.
https://www.dreamerswriting.com/stories-poems/barbara-heagy/

And by the way — if you have a chance to take a workshop with Kat McNichol, do it! She’s a fabulous teacher. There is another ‘Writing for Healing’ workshop coming up in October. Check for details at  www.dreamerswriting.com.

A Response Poem to Rumi’s Not Here

Not Me by Barbara Heagy

Oh, Rumi.
I do not want to hear this right now.
Don’t speak to me about bravery and sharp
compassion.
I have had howling hurt
And it sucks.

I have stood strong and full of courage.
“Turn and face the lions,” I said.
But the lions’ roaring pains my eardrums.
Their carnivorous breath makes me faint.
Their overpowering size tires me
As I pace the cage with them.

Copper and gold are not for me.
I have accumulated a treasure house of
such so-called riches.
Give me sun.
Give me breath.
God, give me pastrami.
Anything but more of your precious metals.

I am not half-hearted.
I am empty-hearted
Facing your sizzling ovens that shape the soul.

Empty-hearted, holding back,
I am now just well-enough and getting by.

Your challenge has depleted me,
Frozen my thoughts into debilitating ideas of
“I can do this.
This will be good for me.”

Well F’ you, Rumi.
I walk away from this challenge.
I’ve given at the office, thank you.

                                        

I Am From

As an introduction to each other at our recent Rhythmwood Soul Journey, Wendy Roman asked us to write a poem about ourselves from a basic form called “I Am From . . . “. All we had to do was fill in the blanks as we reminisced about our past and contemplated all the people and events that had formed who we are today. Here is my poem. What would your poem be?

I Am From by Barbara Heagy

I am from country farms,
From czardas and paprikash.

I am from grandma’s warm lap
like sheltering laughter.

I am from lilacs, fresh mown hay,
and bubbling creeks.

I am from hippies and hash,
From cool northern lakes and jumping fish.

I am from journals and contemplations,
From words and books and songs.

I am from breath and moving bodies.

I am from spiritual journeys danced in prayers,
laced with pain and grace.

I am from daughters to grandsons.

I am from love –
assured and unconditional.

I Have No Words – A Journey of the Soul

This past week I went on a retreat called Rhythmwood Soul Journey, led by Wendy Roman of Rhythmwood Dance Studio. For eight weeks before our retreat where we met in person, we had online assignments using poetry, journal writing, conscious dance and shared online conferences to introduce us to each other and prepare us with some basic movement principles and ideas for contemplation and discussion.

In the studio, Wendy used daily readings, journal writing, conscious dance, meditation, nature experiences and art to take us on a further soul journey of the feminine spirit.

On the last day of our wonderful week, I sat quietly and thought about how I would explain the past week to my friends and family. It was such a deep and meaningful experience that I truly had no words. But I put my pen to paper, and let the words just flow. This poem is what came out.

I HAVE NO WORDS

I have no words.

How do you explain this feeling of wholeness, connectedness, fulfilment to another?

How do you explain a journey of the soul where I, you, us, become equally important and valuable to the woven web?

How do you explain a creation of the spirit that fills and overflows through me, to you, to earth, to sky, to water, to fire and beyond?

How do you speak of the gentle care, the kindness, the deep felt gratitude for who I am, and who I become with you, and you, and you?

How do I explain the fire within, the fire without, the consuming fire that refines and invites you to new beginnings?

How do I explain the magic of dancing with another, where the flow between us becomes liquid energy that uplifts, intertwines, and releases the ‘me’ to become the ‘us’?

How do I explain the wonder of waves rushing to shore, the birds rising through song, the sky on fire, our very souls on fire?

How do I explain the specialness, the uniqueness of another? Through vulnerability and laughter and tears, and strength and weakness, through words and song and dance and art, a new creation was born.

How do I explain all this?

There are no words.

Wendy Roman is a gifted teacher and I would recommend taking a workshop or retreat with her in the future. Check out her website at www.rhythmwood.ca

To My Gr. 1’s – Class of 2010-11

 

To my Gr. 1 student,

Tonight, you my student from my Gr. 1 class of 2010-11 graduate from elementary school. Next September 2018 you head on to high school. I wanted to be there to watch you accept your diploma. I wanted you to know that you and your classmates are a very special class to me. You were with me through the final stages of my husband Tom’s cancer journey and you and your family were in my life when he passed away December 11, 2010. Your kindness and support at that difficult time meant so much to me.

I wrote a book called 10 – A Story of Love, Life, and Loss about my life with my husband and our final days. Did you know that you and your classmates are in my book? Here are some excerpts from the book to show you how much you all meant to me.

I love, love, love my little class this year . . . I have been very open about Tom
and his cancer, and they regularly make cards and letters for both of us, telling
us how much they love us and how they are really hoping Tom feels better.
It’s a regular little Love Fest’. They are so cute!

We made some wonderful memories together and you brightened my days at some of my darkest hours.

My class went to Puck’s Farm, over near Schomberg, last week with the other
Gr. 1 class, and we had a fabulous day! The weather was sunny with a blue sky.
It was cool but not cold, and the kids and adults had a ball. We were rotated
through ten different centres of activity which included pony rides for every kid,
a hay wagon ride led by two big old horses, a tour through the barn to see the
pigs, chickens, sheep, horses, donkeys and geese, a cedar maze  . . . , another maze
made on a hill made of sorghum grass which grows up to 12 feet, and a tour through the apple orchard where we picked and ate to our heart’s content while sitting under the old apple trees which were spray-free. There was a little carnival area with a jumping castle and a tiny Ferris wheel, and we each got to try our hand at milking the very patient and well-behaved cow. It wasn’t as easy as it looked.
The cow was not very pleased with me as I tried and tried to get milk squirting,
(she kept looking over her shoulder at me, but I finally did it). Every kid went home
with a pumpkin and a smile.

In November and December, we made more memories.

My Christmas spirit is starting to kick in. It has to when you teach small children.
We made our first Christmas craft in the classroom, pizza boxes cut into wreaths
decorated with tissue paper puffs and crepe paper ribbons. You can still smell
the cheese and pepperoni on the box, but it is our attempt at reusing cardboard
in a creative and environmental way. Mmmmm, our wreaths smell good! I also
got handed the script for the Christmas play with the music so we have already
started to listen to it and are getting ready for rehearsals which start next week.
We finally finished our last writing project we were doing as a whole school on
the theme of ‘Courage’. The last project was writing a letter to someone we felt
had demonstrated courage. My Grade Ones wrote to soldiers, fire fighters, and
to Terry Fox’s Mom, Dad and family. Some wrote to their own sisters, brothers,
moms, dads, and grandparents. One little boy wrote to a Special Needs kid I
had in my class last year whose life daily hangs on a thread.

So, you see, your love and support as a small child was very important to me. Kindness, at any age, is a gift of love no matter who is offering it or who is receiving it. I hope you remember to be kind to others as you go on to high school and become an adult. Knowledge is important but care for your world whether it be a person, an animal, or nature is more important.

My best wishes for you as you go on to new adventures. Keep learning, keep being curious, keep being open to the world. I believe in you. Most of all, keep believing in yourself. You can do anything you set your heart to.

Warmly,

Mrs. Barbara Heagy
Gr. 1 Teacher, 2010-11

Congratulations on Word Award Nomination at The Word Guild Gala 2018

Well, the Good Grief People authors didn’t win the top prize last night at The Word Guild Word Awards Gala (we missed you, Alan) but we had a wonderful time meeting other authors and writers and hearing snippets of quality literature. We are proud to be declared a finalist in our category. One of our group did win a top award – congratulations to Glynis M. Belec for her win last night for her short script.

It was very special to have the group of us together. We got to know each other so well in the writing of our book and, even though we live in six different cities across Canada, we saw quite a bit of each other. To get us all together in one spot is a rarity and, therefore, I appreciated it all the more.

Just a couple of hours before I left for the gala, my phone rang. It was a woman from a funeral home in the area that had bought six of our books a year ago from me. If we need any more affirmation of the good things our book is doing for others on their grief paths, I got it. She raved about our book and ordered ten more Good Grief People books.

She told me they can’t keep the books on the shelf because people are finding it so helpful. She herself has found it to be so beneficial in understanding her own grief journey. She says it’s the perfect book in that it is not a ‘how-to’ book because those who are grieving already have enough on their plate without worrying whether they’re grieving properly or not. The short stories and poems are perfect for little snippets of comfort and hope given in small doses when needed.

I told her I was just getting ready to attend The Word Guild banquet today and that the book was short-listed for an award across Canada and she said she was not surprised.

It was wonderful to get such positive feedback. It was like getting an award. Thank you my Good Grief People author friends. We did it together.

Copies of Good Grief People can be ordered by messaging Barbara Heagy at barbaraheagy10@gmail.com or through local bookstores and retail outlets (The Bookshelf, Guelph; BookLore, Orangeville; Spa Wellness by Tamara, Guelph) or online at amazon.ca. They can also be ordered from any of the authors or through Angel House Publishing.