Life Lessons – Barbara Heagy

I Read, I Write, I Learn, I Think (A Typical Day)

Now that I’m retired. Now that I live alone. Now that my time is my own. Now that I am almost 74 years old, my daily life has a regular slow pattern.

I wake up and begin my morning routine. I visit the washroom. I make my bed. I make a pot of coffee. I go to the computer and begin.

I read, I write, I learn, I think.

I read. I read it all. The good, the bad, the ugly. Although I can only take so much of the bad as it overwhelms me. Then I seek the good, flood my eyes and mind with wholesome, inspiring, beautiful messages to drown out the darkness. I read the news, I read human interest stories, nature stories, travel tales. I read poetry and prose and short stories, and read about fashion, writing, psychology, art, music, dance. I read about gardening and cooking, birds and children. When I’m done with the computer and the Internet messages, I curl up with my latest book in hand and disappear into another world of words.

I write. I write to friends, emails and Facebook entries. It’s important to stay connected and communicating. I let friends and family know they are important to me. I write ideas in my journal so I won’t forget them. Although I rarely reread them. Sometimes I am deeply inspired and I will create my own words, my own thoughts, like a waterfall pouring out on paper or on my computer screen. When that happens, I will work relentlessly, holding off on coffee or breakfast so that the Muse isn’t interrupted. I can tell when it’s finished its monologue and I can finally listen to my growling stomach or finally wet my dry mouth. Sometimes I have a goal, I am a very goal-oriented person, and I will work relentlessly on my project, until the idea is complete and on the page. Don’t interrupt me with a phone call when the writing is flowing.

I learn. I am aware that I learn best by listening or reading and then transferring my thoughts to paper through my own keyboard or pen. As if the repetition of the moving words imprint more deeply upon my brain cells, fire along the neuron pathways and embed their message into my body and soul, where they will last. Words are important to me but so are visuals. Beautiful photos. Art work. Colour, details, creative expressions, speak as powerfully as words to me. That’s why I love photography, my own as well as others. Photos are a way of stopping, examining, listening, seeing the world close-up and suspended in time. Some capture beauty. Some tell a story. Some pare the world down to its most important details. Some make me laugh. Some bring tears to my eyes. The best say Stop and look with me. Linger a while. Do you see it too?

I think. I fill myself up with ideas and information and then sit quietly and contemplate their meaning and place in my life. I dream, make connections, wander through memories, and make new links of knowledge in my brain.

Every day, I talk. One of my three daughters often calls me, Maegan on her long drive to her next client, Brittany during her solo walk to work along Toronto streets. Lara less often, but when she finds a quiet moment at home or in her car. Sometimes I will hear from Maegan more than once a day. I think I help her long drives to go a little faster. Harold phones me every night at 9:30 p.m. and we usually talk for at least ½ hour.

I socialize. Visits with my best friend Sandy, monthly lunches with my retired RR Alumni teacher friends, my Writing Your Life Story group, my Photo Club. I see Harold for three days of the week, either at his home in Orangeville, or mine in Guelph. I visit with my daughters and families whenever I can, at least once a month. That isn’t always easy as Brittany lives in Toronto, Maegan north of Barrie, and Lara in Orangeville. We always celebrate holidays with family, both mine and Harold’s.

During afternoons, I will continue with a new book or a new writing project if I have one on the go.Otherwise, I will do household chores, both inside or out. I grab my camera and take some photos. I go shopping. I plan meals. I love to cook, trying out new recipes or creating my own by checking “What’s in the Fridge or Pantry.”

Evening hours are spent in front of the TV which is purposely put in my rec’ room in the basement. I usually only watch evening programs; the news, game shows, American Idol, America’s Got Talent, The Voice, Dancing With the Stars, documentaries or movies. Oh, and Grey’s Anatomy. Can’t miss that. I love a good variety of movies, both old and new, comedies and romance, science fiction and action films.

By 11 p.m. I’m usually ready for bed.

I love being retired. I love having me time to do whatever I wish. I love having solitary, quiet time at home. To break my daily routine, I do enjoy gardening, camping, fishing, canoeing, volunteering at the annual Hillside Music Festival, road trips, and international travel.

Life is good.

Back on Track

This morning I am awakened out of a deep dreaming state by my daughter’s regular phone call. She calls me on her way to work as she walks the 15 minute distance. She tells me there is a pile of snow out there. I go and open my bedroom blind and, wow, she is right. It is the most snow in one fall that I have seen all winter. Oh no. A huge amount of snow shovelling to do. I’m supposed to go to my writing group meeting and my sister and I are to meet for dinner in the late afternoon out of town at the Hungarian Club, then she is to return to my home for an overnight visit. I don’t think that will happen.

I go to my computer to do my morning scroll and my friend from Australia had sent me some very vile and disheartening videos with American men degrading women and their place in leadership. All this to emphasize our discussion before I went to bed of Renee Good and her hideous murder. I went to bed with the words “Fucking bitch” in my head. Thank God, it didn’t transfer to my dreams. But here it is again this morning.

Snow, cancellations, war, Gaza, suffering. I haven’t even had coffee and I’m all shook up. Too much bad news and not enough good. Too many tears and not enough laughter.

I keep scrolling and soon enough I have my favourite sites coming up. The ones that make me laugh, the ones of beautiful photography, the ones with inspirational words and soothing music. More new recipes. More cute children. More words of wisdom. More positives.

I’m getting back on track. I finish my first cup of coffee and begin to review my Facebook Memories, a morning ritual where I review some of my postings from the past. What was I was saying and thinking on January 15, 2025, and then January 15, 2024, 2023, and so on? Positive after positive words of inspiration come up again and again. Oh, how I need that this morning.

January 15, 2025 – “We all have dreams, but do we have the courage to live those dreams?

I remember a friend telling me she was too fearful to ask for love in her life because she was so afraid that if she got it, it would be ripped out of her life like a tablecloth being ripped off a table pulling all the fancy china with it. She was so afraid of achieving her dream because she was already anticipating the pain of losing it.

I told her that maybe, just maybe, the dishes will remain solidly on the table. That’s what makes it “the magical tablecloth trick.” If we never take the gamble, we will never get to experience the joy of living our dreams.

It doesn’t matter what the dream is. Maybe you desire a fancy car but won’t get it because you’re afraid it will get scratched in the parking lot or stolen. Perhaps you desire a child but can’t stomach the thought of losing that child while they are still young. Or maybe you have a dream to travel but won’t because you’re afraid you’ll get pick-pocketed or catch some horrible disease if you do. Maybe you want a better job but you don’t believe you’re capable of handling it.

Just dream. And start stepping towards the fulfillment of that dream. Believing it will come true and all will be well takes courage as well as an acceptance that it might not. But how will I ever know unless I take those first steps and begin the journey? BH”

January 15, 2024 – “Misery might love company, but so does joy, and joy throws much better parties.” Quote, Bill Ivey

January 15, 2021 – “Do not be dismayed by the brokenness in the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.” Quote, L. R. Knost

January 15, 2020 – “Teach me how to trust my heart, my mind, my intuition, my inner knowing, the senses of my body, the blessings of my spirit. Teach me to trust these things so that I may enter my sacred space, and love beyond my fear and thus walk in balance with the passing of each glorious sun.” Quote, Lakota Prayer

I learn these lessons best through conscious dance — a free way of moving that drops me directly into my body, releases my mind to a stream-of-consciousness flow, and ignites my spirit. Conscious dance teaches me full embodiment so that the lessons I learn on the dance floor go with me into my daily life. Conscious dance helps me to be a better person.

January 15, 2018 – “Beauty is quietly woven through our ordinary days . . . Everywhere there is tenderness, care, and kindness, there is beauty. “ Quote, John Donahue

January 15, 2015 — The Storytellers by Barbara Heagy

Reading good books inspires me. We need to tell our stories, they connect us, as we share the tapestry of our lives.

In more ancient cultures the oral story-tellers were held in esteem as they were the reservoirs of life tales. They ensured the tales of long ago were passed on to future generations, and not just for entertainment. The stories were told so that we would never forget, so that one’s memory could live on through future generations. They were told so that we could learn from the past. Stories helped others understand who they were and where they came from.

The oral story-tellers in our modern day culture exist now in bars where tales are told over foaming pints of beer, around campfires, dinner tables, and steaming cups of latte in the local coffee shop. We have become a world of printed words and pictures. Electronic media connects us and these are the new ways our stories are passed on in busy lives. Readers sit behind worn paperback books, computer screens, glowing Kindles and Smartphones. Facebook, Hotmail, Youtube and Instagram ensure we continue to share our lives with each other. We still love our stories. We still need the stories. Now we need the writers, the photographers, and the film-makers to be the tellers of the tales and, with technology, we all have the potential to be the story-teller.

Past or present, we are all human, we are all the same – we live, we breathe, we smile, we wipe tears from our children’s faces. We share joy and suffering, the strong look after the weak, we bury our dead as we, too, will be buried someday. Stories satisfy our desire to stay connected, for when our stories end, we end. Stories are as important for us now as they were a way back then.”

May my stories continue to lift others up as their stories lift me. Thank you for the story tellers.

And now, now it’s time for brunch. I’m back on track!

Bee Time

I finished my latest book ” Bee Time – Lessons From the Hive” by Mark L. Winston. It’s a fascinating read, written in lyrical prose, celebrating the many roles and gifts bees offer us through the eyes of a variety of disciplines: art, science, agriculture, environment, business, urban planning, nature, philosophy, religion and spiritual growth. Bees have many lessons to teach us.

I offer this poem and photo as a gift to Mark L Winston for his enlightening read and love of bees.

“Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt – marvelous error! —
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.”

~Antonio Machado

It’s a Black and White Day

I wake today in gloom. The cloudy skies are keeping the sun at bay and the rain is dripping from barren branches of autumn and soaking through the fallen leaves now covering my resting garden.

It’s been a difficult week and I have been away from my own bed and quiet home for almost two weeks now. I have been in and out, repacking my suitcase and rushing off to help family, fulfill obligations and responsibilities, doing for others, my focus outwards.

Today, I am home. But the events of the week still reside within me. We have faced death this week with a beloved family member. He wanted to live but was unable to continue. It was time to disconnect.

I feel a disconnection in my own life. Home is somewhere where I used to live. I need to spend more time here. To feel like I belong here. To remember its beauty. To savour the pockets of comfort where I used to reside. To linger. To connect once again with the beloved creations of who I used to be. To love it again.

And so, on this dreary day, I take my camera in hand, turn out the lights, and let the limited natural light of this cloudy day seep in through the windows and doorways.

I sit, quietly and consciously observing the interplay of light and shadow throughout the room. I recognize and connect to the darkness which co-exists with the light. It mirrors my emotions today. I too am dark, melancholy but want to recognize and remember light-filled days. The brightness is still there. I need to look for it.

I give time to remind myself of the joy I had in creating and arranging small areas filled with memories. Once again I search for the spaces of delight that once illuminated my life. They are still there. And today I have the time to appreciate and cherish them. I focus, I remember, and I snap a photo. I snap another one as I move from room to room.

I am taking an online course called Photography and Mindfulness, 10 lessons that arrive every Tuesday and Friday. I have completed five of them and they are teaching me to slow down, use my senses, change my perspective, observe with curiosity and not judgement. I am learning to accept these dark emotions, give them space. They don’t need to leave. Dark and light co-exist together. They complement each other. Yin and Yang. A balance. I am learning to allow the darkness to just be and let my own light gently illuminate it. And that perspective is reflected in my photos.

I shoot them in black and white, recognizing that the black is as important as the white. Shadows cannot exist without light. Light cannot exist without shadows. They are a duality. Their borders touch and interplay with each other. The bright dried hydrangeas from the garden, sit side-by-side with my Korean print in its muted tones, the blurred framed photo of my brothers and sister in the background. It’s slightly out-of-focus as is my memory of my deceased brother Ping. Light spills in from the front door, illuminating the hall, creating shadows along the edges of the angled walls and staircase. Texture and tones are accented on the carved vase, the feathered grasses, the struggling spider plant, and the carved wooden bird on my bedroom side table as light and dark play among them.

Sitting with these memories brings back the joys and the pains of my past. I have been in this house now for twenty years and there have been many light-filled days as well as the burdensome weight of dark days too. There has been life and death, celebrations and failures, hopes and disappointments. I have cursed them at times but I accept and am grateful for them. I reside with them all. They live within me.

I am my home. This is where I live and belong.

Still Blooming, Still Growing

“One day you will look back and see that all along you were blooming.”
~Morgan Harper Nichols

I’m a little sad to see that fall is making its appearance with cooler temperatures and dying vegetation.

And yet, my garden still blooms.

My petunias have straggles of browned stems but colourful blooms still reach for the warm sun and declare, “We’re not over yet!”

The Morning Glory blossoms are not as prolific as they were, but some flower funnels still glow in brilliant colours, greeting the morning sun.

The Echinacea are no longer in their prime but they still bloom, not yet ready to give up completely.

How like my garden I am. We both are in the fall of our lives. Maybe not as beautiful as we once were, but still blooming, still growing. There is still time to enjoy the day’s gifts and make an offering.

A Bad Day

“Was it a bad day?

Or was it a bad five minutes that you milked all day?”

~Unknown

We all have bad days. My new year has not started out well. I was sick as I stepped into the first week of January, then I took my car in for a winter tire exchange only to find I needed a full brake job that cost me $1800+. My right knee, which has bothered me for years, is the worst it’s ever been, and I have started physiotherapy twice a week to try and resolve that and avoid surgery if I can.

I can look at the flip side of all these problems. Being sick stopped me in my tracks of a life that I notoriously fill to the brim with activity. I was quiet, read books, watched movies, wrote friendly e-mails, and had ample amounts of time to think about my life and my future.

We know that cars cost money. They are not an investment that keeps growing. I can rest assured that my brakes and emergency brake are now set for many years of use with no problems.

Although my physiotherapy is not easy, I have found an exercise program that works! This is my third time investing in the GLA:D program for those with identified osteoarthritis in knees or hips over several years. I attend bi-weekly and look forward to getting stronger with each session. And if it doesn’t, then I will look at surgery. I am thankful that I haven’t had to do that yet.

So, when people ask how are you, I don’t focus on my lousy beginning to my year. I say, I’m feeling great now, thank you. My car got fixed and I got extra visits in with my daughter and family as they helped me out by lending me their car over five days. Bonus! I have started my physiotherapy and I am confident that I will get stronger as the weeks pass. How lucky I am that I have access to such a program with my benefit package.

Yes, the year started out badly but it also had many benefits. I could dwell on the negatives and make myself miserable and probably all those around me as I complain constantly. Or, I could say, yay, I got through that and I move forward with expectations of good things happening. I choose what I focus on. I choose to find the positives out of negative situations and live my life with hope and gratitude. We all can do that. Choose to be happy.

Don’t Be Afraid to Dream

We all have dreams, but do we have the courage to live those dreams?

It doesn’t matter what the dream is. Maybe you desire a fancy car but won’t get it because you’re afraid it will get scratched in the parking lot or stolen. Perhaps you desire a child but can’t stomach the thought of losing that child while they are still young. Or maybe you have a dream to travel but won’t because you’re afraid you’ll get pick-pocketed or catch some horrible disease if you do. Maybe you want a better job, but you don’t believe you’re capable of handling it.

A New Book – For the Love of Food: Family Edition

For the Love of Food: Family Edition is a collection of stories and recipes praising food as a language of love through five generations of the author’s family. This memoir/cookbook is a testament to the life-giving power of food as it moves from field to table with gratitude, bonding, and celebration.

It’s a book for readers who love to cook, and cooks who love to read. Reminisce about your own mealtime memories and be inspired. Get into the kitchen and start cooking!

“This book is a beautiful reminder of how food can be a powerful vessel for preserving and sharing our most treasured family moments.””
~Amy McIntyre, Wine Educator, European Travel Planner

“A feast of joyful cooking.”
~Donna McCaw, Author, Across the Great Divide and It’s Your Time

“As she takes you down memory lane, she whets your taste buds. You’ll find yourself in the kitchen cooking up a storm immersed in your own memories.”
~Ruth Smith Meyer, Author, Out of the Ordinary and Chains of Shame

“Barbara Heagy has created a cozy, comforting read that stimulates your appetite and makes you want to get into your own kitchen and start cooking.”
~Wendy Jamieson, Chef, Restaurateur (Forage Restaurant)

“Her passion and love of food is apparent as she shares recipes and stories from her own life. Although not a professional chef, she honours food with a diverse palate and a plethora of fresh ingredients.”
~Matthew Bach Jamieson, Head Chef and Restaurateur (Mad Apples, Woodside, Forage Restaurants)

Paperback copies are available through Amazon.ca, hardcover copies through Amazon.com, or through an email message at barb_mcquarrie@hotmail.com

I’m Unraveling

I felt I hit my peak at age 50. Truly the top of the mountain. Wonderful things were happening in my life; love, career, health, opportunity but I could see the downward slope of my life in my future as I aged. One could call it a crisis. But I like Brene Brown’s take on it. It’s an unraveling. Now in the autumn of my life, I know my days here on this planet grow shorter but because of that I am less inclined to waste them. I want to enjoy every day, take on new challenges, breathe in new experiences, be who I want to be, not who others want me to be. Life is precious. Live it. Live it fully. Right to the end. BH

“People may call what happens at midlife “a crisis”.

But it’s not.

It’s an unraveling . . .

a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live not the one you’re supposed to live.

The unraveling is a time when you are challenged by the universe to let go of who you think you are supposed to be

And to embrace who you are.”

~Brene Brown

Same Behaviour, Same Results

I had a dream last night and in my dream, I was part of a team of women who were working on some new creative project together. We were, however, running into obstacles and difficulties and things just weren’t gelling. In my dream, I ran into the room where these women were all seated and I exclaimed to them, “We can’t just keep doing the same thing over and over and getting the same results. We need to do something different!”

I am a firm believer in psychiatrist Carl Jung’s belief that dreams reflect the inner psyche, the unconscious mind. They are not just random thoughts or fantasies. By examining our dreams, we can explore the symbols and archetypes offered by the images to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves.

I awoke. The first thought in my mind was, I need to re-examine my life and think about it a little deeper. My dream, I believe, offered an important message to me. Now my next step is to let that little seed of advice guide me as to what needs to be changed in my life and decide how I am going to change it.

Do you believe that dreams are a reflection of our inner selves and can offer us new insights into our personal lives? I would love to hear about dreams that you feel have been significant and life-changing for you. BH