Alone, Again. Christmas Grief.

There is a burden of grief that hangs on my heart this holiday season. I feel it everywhere. It’s in the grocery store as I go down the aisle, I feel it on the streets, I sense it in the air around me. It’s almost palpable. A tension, a fear, a sadness, worry.  I look into the face of a friend and I feel it’s heaviness as he faces a Christmas alone. I hear it in the voice of another who isn’t so sure what her Christmas will be like this year.

The pandemic had its own horrors and grief as we were all forced into isolation. Many of us sat alone, unable to see and hug our own family, our own friends. Many of our loved ones died, quarantined in hospitals or nursing homes and we were not allowed to say our goodbyes in person. Funerals became small and private or not at all, with only a public announcement in social media for most family and friends. We all faced that collective misery together but at least we were all facing it the same. As the saying goes, “Misery loves company.”

Now the pandemic has eased its stranglehold and things have opened up. People are gathering as groups again for inside events. Plans are being made for traditional Christmas celebrations and there is joy and excitement at the thoughts of gathering together once again after two years of “bubbles” and masks.

But there are those that are still isolated and alone as others ramp up their joy and holiday plans. Some still are faced with their solitude and absence. For those, life has not returned with its business and plans. And they grieve. And this year, I feel the grief has doubled because of what we have been denied the last two years. The pandemic has intensified it. Being alone becomes loneliness.

Let us remember those for who Christmas will not be noisy and joyful and full of people. Make that phone call. Drop off that unexpected present. Visit for a short time. Bring over that plate of turkey and stuffing. Share a moment. Share the joy.

Merry Christmas to all.

Dance Lives In Me

The drummer in the corner kept the beat, a syncopated rhythm that began to find its way into my body. A heartbeat. Breathe in, breathe out.

“. . . 5, 6 7, 8, . . . “ the teacher called.

The dancers began picking up the beat, moving across the floor. Right foot, left foot, step, pause, step, pause. Arms extended outwards, wing-like, palms down, palms up, repeat, repeat, again and again. Upper body arching, look down, look up, see the earth, see the sky. Feet, arms, torso, eyes, caught in the rhythm, the body flowing, lost in the driving drum beat that kept us dancing. Heart, breath, body, as one.

Then suddenly, it all changed. On the next upswing my body became charged, pure energy poured out of me like a spotlight searching upwards for its mark. Its beam shot into the universe.

Judy, my teacher, yelled out, “Beautiful!”

I knew she meant it for me. She saw it. Somehow, it transformed me. My body dropped down with the next beat and as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The magic disappeared.

I stood in the corner of the room, the dance over, but my body still reverberated with that glorious experience of light where I became a conduit for a beam of energy that came from . . . where?
What just happened to me? Where did that come from?

And, just like that, I was hooked and I knew I would spend the rest of my life searching for that magic once again, hoping to find it, control it, use it to consciously express an art form that I was only just a novice in.

That day, I became a dancer.

I learned to use space, body, action, time, and energy to express my feelings and create dances and theatre pieces with movement and the body, the way an artist expresses their passion with paints and brushes, or a writer brings their thoughts and ideas to life with words.

For years, I studied contemporary dance and ballet, even for a period, classical East Indian dance. I learned a deep awareness of my body and its natural power. I learned to refine my movements, to strengthen and control my form. Through improvisation, I learned to trust the natural flow of the spirit, to allow it to find its own life within. I learned the art of choreography and was able to perform with a professional company for six years until the responsibility of a young family drew me home.

And yet, the passion was still strong. Where else but through dance can one fly or throw your energy to the stars, connect to the earth as a tree connects to the soil, and join with another’s soul?

I carried on teaching dance and performed my own works as a solo artist and with my young protegees wherever and whenever I could. I had taught dance for over fifteen years until I decided that at age 37, it was time for something different and I returned to university for a Bachelor of Education degree. I continued to perform but left the dance studio and focused my energies toward my own artistic projects and my school.

But the seeds of creativity had been planted deep and 11 years later, I was accepted to York University for a Master of Arts, Dance major. Now, once again, it was for me, just me. I continued to teach at my elementary school but dance bubbled up once again inside.

After retirement, my older body sought a new way of moving and Nia dance and conscious dance became vehicles to go deep within to my natural energy source, to find a technique that honoured who I had become. Once again, I re-visited improvisation, free flow, deep body awareness, and connection with others on the dance floor.

Today, dance continues to live within me. I am a dancer.

For the Love of Food – A Celebration

Writing continues on my upcoming memoir cookbook that honours the place of food and family in our lives. The following is a poem that will be in the opening chapter:

A Celebration by Barbara Heagy

Food and cooking is a celebration.

It’s a celebration of family, community, and togetherness.
Gathered around a table laden with good, wholesome food, laughing, and sharing stories.
Coming together to
Chop and blend,
Fold and stir,
A joyous circle of belonging.
Here, I am part of a whole.

It’s a celebration of the senses.
The colours of a leafy salad with bright tomatoes, green cucumbers, and orange, red, and yellow peppers.
The soft, gluten feel of bread kneaded in your hands.
The exotic aroma of a scented curry with cumin, coriander, turmeric, and cardamom.
The crunching sound of crispy celery, a juicy apple, or the thick, warm bubbling of a stove-top stew.
The taste that melts in your mouth, burns your tongue, or bursts on your taste buds in sheer delight.

It’s a celebration of the body, re-energized and rejuvenated or sated with belly full.
Perhaps I may not remember what I ate but my body remembers the generosity and love in which the food was given.
I remember being
Welcomed and embraced,
Comforted and consoled,
My heart nourished.

It is a celebration of nature,
A cycle of seed, growth, harvest, and preparation
Recognizing and respecting the circle of life.
We acknowledge the sun, and the rain, and the fertile soils,
The passing of the seasons.
We recognize the sacrifice of the animals given for our good.
We are thankful for
Our beloved planet and all its gifts
So freely given.

It’s a celebration of tradition.
A gathering cast in time
To be remembered and honoured
Season after season,
Generation after generation.
A rhythm of lives past that never forgets
As we pass on our skills.

It’s a celebration of culture,
Of diversity and unity.
I remember who I am
And where I come from.
I praise who you are
And where you come from.
I travel the world
Tasting its variety and goodness,
Raw or prepared,
Simple or exotic.
It is an opportunity to applaud you and your life.

It’s a celebration of time,
A pause,
An acknowledgement of each other
In our busy lives.
We meet together in gratitude
As we greet and thank those that laboured,
Farmer or cook,
Gave of themselves
For these gifts before us.
Sometimes we choose a day or moment
And mark it special,
Happy Birthday to you,
Merry Christmas,
And we create rites and rituals that intensify
Its meaning and importance
Not only for us but for future generations.
We hope to always remember
To value each other and our contributions
For our better good and fulfillment. 

The Autumn of My Life

In the Autumn of my life may I remember that this is when one’s true colours come out in all their showy splendour. My beauty glows in scarlets and golds laced with hints of the past green of yesterdays. I blaze and my brilliance can take your breath away. I can only stand in awe at the majesty of it all.

Even as they fall from the trees, the leaves dance to their end in swirling, twirling eddies of colour. Such joy in their descent. I dance with them.

But the show of glory isn’t over yet.

I watch my grandchildren playing in the leaves on the ground. That’s when they’re the most fun for running and leaping, rolling and tossing in arms of brilliance. I join them in play too. And we laugh. And laugh some more. For what is life if we have forgotten how to laugh and play?

I used to say summer was my favourite season but maybe now it’s fall. It’s when the richness of a life well-lived comes to its peak of brilliance.

Before the quiet slumber of winter comes, let me revel in this season of beauty and wear my colours with pride and gratitude. And a whole lot of merriment. And add a dab of silliness just for fun.

Home Again

I’m home. I return with two small tokens of our 9-day road trip, a coffee mug and a small stone.

The fine porcelain mug was bought at Ten Mile Point Trading Post on Manitoulin Island, a shop full of Indigenous art and souvenirs. The cup is designed by Chipewyan Dene artist John Rombough. He calls the design “Remember” and it includes hands extended over a landscape of sand, rock, and trees, painted in a Native Art style. It comes in a box on which is written, “As the two ancestors watch over the land, they pray for all the children – every child matters.” We passed through many Indigenous communities in our nine days of travel from Tobermory in the Bruce Peninsula, to Manitoulin Island, Sault Ste. Marie, Sudbury, North Bay, and Orillia/Barrie area, journeying almost 1,500 kilometres past stunning rock outcroppings and cliffs, shining lakes, and forests just coming to life in their fall glory. On September 30, Canada celebrated “Orange Shirt Day – Every Child Matters,” and on our trip from Sault Ste. Marie to Sudbury, we saw many people wearing orange T-shirts or waving flags and banners as a reminder of the native children lost in the residential schools, as well as their survivors, families, and communities. My mug will always be a treasured memory of our trip and First Nation lands and culture.

My second little souvenir is a small fossilized stone picked up beside the train rails in Agawa Canyon. For Christmas my daughters bought us a ride on the Agawa Canyon Train Tour, a one day wilderness excursion from Sault Ste. Marie to Agawa Canyon Park near the south edge of Lake Superior Provincial Park. The trip included four hours of travel past small communities and breathtaking wilderness scenery to the beautiful Agawa Canyon. At the canyon, we had 1 ½  hours to eat our boxed lunch and explore a high lookout for the brave and tireless or hike shorter trails to two spectacular waterfalls. We chose the waterfalls. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the trees were just beginning to change colour with hints of pastel yellows and greens and occasional slashes of brilliant oranges and reds. The cascading waterfalls fall over 225 feet at the highest and are beautiful enough to be captured by more than one of the Group of Seven artists. The engines looped back on a side track to reattach at the other end of the 17 car train for the 4 ½ hour return trip.  The train ride was both exciting and relaxing. Leaving behind the city, we enjoyed breathtaking views of morning mist rising over lakes and forests, looked up to rising rock faces of ancient, weathered stone, and took in spectacular views from towering trestles. My little gray stone will always be my reminder of the majestic and rugged landscape of our one-of-a-kind train ride and journey across northern Ontario.

Summer is Gone

Summer has ended. Officially it ends with the Autumn Equinox, this year being September 22, but for many the Labour Day weekend marks the end of road trips, camping, and long, lazy cottage vacations.

The hot sultry days of July and August turn to rainy days and cool evenings. Gardens are in late bloom and many flowers have gone to seed. Harvest time is upon us as tomatoes turn red on the vine and squash are beginning to form and mature. I have seen signs of autumn colour in the trees and the geese are practising their flight skills for the long migration ahead of them. The shadows are getting longer and the days are getting shorter. Frosty nights are not far off.

Fall fairs are upon us, the kids are back to school, and stores have been stocked with paper, pencils, and knapsacks for weeks. Most families have finished their shopping and new outfits for that first day back are hanging in closets or tucked into drawers. Students are waiting for that first morning when they greet their new teacher and see old friends.

There’s a sense of sadness when summer ends but there is also a jittery eagerness, an excitement that marks the new season. Fall celebrates its own traditions with Thanksgiving and Hallowe’en, a time for new ways to gather and have fun.

Meanwhile, there are still some sunny days ahead of us. Enjoy these last days of summer while you can.

Vision Boards Bring Hope

With my recent renovation, I have been cleaning out shelves and cupboards that have held things for years. One of the things I found was a vision board that I made 12 years ago when my husband Tom was diagnosed with cancer.

A vision board is a visual collage of images and words that reflect your goals and dreams in life. I made mine with magazine photos and words as well as some art made by my Gr. 1 students at the time. My vision board includes pictures of dance, nature, travel, and good health. I posted it in my kitchen where we would see it every day and it inspired us and gave us hope for the future during our cancer journey. It was our daily reminder to live our best life.

Perhaps a vision board could help you through a difficult time of your life. No matter what’s happening, we can still live every day with zest and joy and be full of gratitude for the many small gifts that come our way. A vision board reminds you to be filled with hope for the future. Never stop dreaming. Never stop loving life.

Printer Problems? Apply Force

grayscale photo of gray and black metal machine

A while back, I was having printer issues and my daughter Brittany happened to be visiting. The screen was flashing an ERROR message, so she found a YouTube video that highlighted the same problem. We studiously followed the instructions, step by step, but it didn’t solve the problem. We tried other videos. The printer still wasn’t working. So we went to a chat line of other people who had the same problem. Seven out of the seven people all suggested some form of tapping, smacking, jerking, jarring or dropping it. Well, we unplugged it, raised it up from the floor about three inches and dropped it. We plugged it back in AND IT WORKED! I have had the same problem once since then. I didn’t waste my energy this time. I unplugged it, gave it a little drop, plugged it back in and, again, it worked. It’s been fine ever since. Some call this Percussive Maintenance, the Technical Tap, Impact Calibration, or Kinetic Realignment. Whatever you want to call it, it seems to work. The old adage holds some truth. “Not working. Give it a good kick.”

I know. I know. It’s probably only temporary. But I’ll take it. There’s another old adage, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Meanwhile, I probably should be keeping an eye on printer sales.

Support Your Local Authors and Book Stores

Because my first book I published was through Balboa Press, a self-publishing company associated with Hay House Publishing, I get many requests over the years through e-mails and phone messages from companies that want to help me with further publishing and marketing strategies. The problems with these are they are American. Because I published my book with an American company, all my publishing and printing costs are in US$. I pay greater shipping costs, including duty, for my books that have to cross the border into Canada. When they sell through Amazon, my publisher takes their first cut, then the American government taxes me for my royalty earnings. There are forms (W-8BEN) to be filled out for the reimbursement of those dollars, and I did pay a specialized Canadian accountant to help me submit these forms, but for some reason the US government refused my submission and requested that it be re-submitted. Needless to say, I have been a little frustrated with the whole procedure by using an American company for my book publishing. I now use Canadian companies only. It’s cheaper in the long run for me, less complicated, and more hands-on and manageable.

My books are available through Amazon but as a self-published author, most of my books have been sold by word-of-mouth to Canadian book buyers either through personal sales or Canadian Indie Book Stores. I am thankful for these stores that continue to carry my books for a fair price. My books are available at Bookshelf, Guelph, Ontario and Booklore, Orangeville, Ontario. I am thankful for these stores that promote me and other authors. I also have copies available which I will ship to you for a nominal postal fee. My books “10 – A Story of Live, Life, and Loss” and “Good Grief People” are available for $20 and generally a $5 shipping fee, depending on where they will be shipped.

Support your Canadian authors and book store owners. Check out Canadian Independent Bookstore Day, April 30, at a local Indie book store. You may have an opportunity to meet a live author and buy a signed book or you may win a prize of $250, $500, or $1000 to the Canadian independent bookstore of your choice.

Go With the Flow

I recently read an article by communication scientist Richard Huskey about flow; what is it, what is its benefits, why should we seek to find it in our lives. (Why Does Experiencing ‘Flow’ Feel So Good? A Communication Scientist Explains)

Flow occurs when we feel focused and in control of an activity. We lose our sense of time and surroundings. We have a strong sense of ourselves and the intricacies of the action. The ease and natural energy we dispense brings us joy and a sense of well-being. We feel in control and capable. We’re ‘in the zone’ with an experience that is both skilled and challenging, making us feel completely satisfied with our creative accomplishments. (Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Psychologist and Author “Beyond Boredom and Anxiety: Experiencing Flow in Work and Play)

There are many ways we can achieve flow in our lives. It can happen with equestrians, swimmers, artists, dancers, musicians, cooks, chess players, surfers, or mountain climbers. It can even happen with video game players. It doesn’t matter so much what you do as long as it brings you a sense of “self-control, goal pursuit, and well-being.” This experience of flow makes us more resilient and capable in other areas of our lives too. It can keep us from burnout and depression and worry. It can help us cope with difficult times and situations such as the pandemic.

I find flow in my dance, my writing, cooking, yoga, gardening, and walking in nature. These activities bring me a sense of joy and well-being and a sense of accomplishment. I feel relaxed and happy when I do them.

Do you have ‘flow’ in your life? What makes you feel in-the-zone?