The Nautilus Shell

Reading Mark Nepo’s “The Book of Awakening” last night, I found this beautiful passage and contemplation of the Nautilus shell creature that with time becomes a spiral shell. As it builds a new layer, it only resides in the newest chamber, leaving the other chambers to be full of liquid or a gas to aid buoyancy.

Nepo uses the Nautilus as a metaphor and lesson for our own lives: “…live in the most recent chamber and use the others to stay afloat. . . Can we internalize where we’ve been enough to know that we are no longer living there? When we can, life will seem lighter . . . only time can put the past in perspective, and only when the past is behind us, and not before us, can we be open enough and empty enough to truly feel what is about to happen.”

As hurting, wounded humans, we carry our pains and traumas around as added baggage that weigh us down and affect our daily lives in negative ways. Would that we could leave the weights of our stings and distress behind and move ourselves forward into our new lives, like the Nautilus, using our past tribulations to hold us up rather than hold us down.

How we do that is not easy. For me, research, reading, talking to others, listening to others, journal writing, quiet contemplation and meditation, walks in nature, and prayer all help me to internalize my life journey and then step back with the lessons I’ve learned to move in a positive forward direction. “Be here now” is a mantra that is built on our past experiences by not denying our past but not being weighed down and led by it.

Margaret in the Mirror – A Short Story

“Look in the mirror and what do you see?

All the faces of who I used to be.”

Barbara Heagy

Margaret looked into the bathroom mirror as she did every morning. She ran her fingers through her hair, eased out the tangles. Picking at the corner of her eye, she rubbed away the sleepiness of the night. As she leaned in to the mirror, she flexed her lips to check for stray pieces of food caught in her teeth. Stepping back, she glanced down for a moment and then back up to greet the face in the mirror. She struck her pose, her best look. Turning her face slowly to the right, then the left, she examined the small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. “That’s okay, they’re my smile lines,” she told herself confidently. The same smile lines curved down from either side of her nose to the edges of her lips. As if to prove it to herself, she smiled once at the reflection. And that’s when she noticed it.

A little spark, a twinkle in her eyes, a flash of mischief, looked back at her. Her silly, get-into-trouble three-year old face was still there, looking for the next amusement that would send her into high-pitched giggles and squeals of delight. She stuck her tongue out at it. No wonder she enjoyed her little grandson so much. He gave her licence to let the little girl out once in a while, to romp and play and be enchanted by the simple pleasures of life once again.

She took one step back away from the mirror and looked past that little girl to another reflection. This time a young girl, an almost woman, stood shyly in front of her. Margaret could see the bloom on her cheek, the tightly closed lips afraid to say the wrong thing, the averted eyes edged with long, curling lashes, that cautiously looked up at her, then quickly looked away again as they made eye contact. Margaret knew she still lived inside of her. Every time Margaret was faced with a new social situation, a new challenge at work, the insecure young girl appeared, telling her she just wasn’t ready, didn’t know enough, wasn’t capable of grand achievement.

Margaret stood a little taller, pulled herself erect into the whole woman she knew she could be. She looked again at the reflection. This time, she saw a grown woman. A woman about to be married. A woman who loved and knew she was loved. The face was rounder, the lips fuller, the eyes shone in confidence. It was a sensuous face, a glowing face, a face that was about to embark on a new journey with a man who loved her. Margaret could see the future in that face, full of promise, children, and new adventures. Margaret smiled at the reflection. It, too, was still a part of her.

But then she eased herself back into her own form. She stood a little less at attention, relaxed into the older body that was hers that morning. She looked back intently at the mirror.  The face she saw this time was even fuller, a little saggy, a few more wrinkles than she had first admitted to. But the eyes were calm, all-knowing, all-accepting. She was proud of that face – proud of every gray hair on her head, proud of every crease on her cheek and forehead. She was now a mature woman, a woman that was an accumulation of all her life experiences. A woman that had lived a rich, meaningful life; one of joy and pain, sorrow and celebration, and a full acceptance of it all. None of it was lost. It was still all there, reflected back at her from that beautiful face in the mirror.

Just Keep Dancing

For many years, I taught jazz dance at a local dance school called The Orangeville Top Cats. At the end of each year, our students performed in a big dance recital at the high school, always to a packed gym.

I used to tell my students that once they were out there on that stage, just let themselves get caught up in the flow and energy of the experience and give it all they had. If they made a mistake, they were to do it boldly, just make it part of the dance. Don’t grimace, don’t stop, don’t get intimidated and think badly of yourself. Make your mistake part of the dance and keep on dancing with confidence and certainty until you can find your way again. People watching you won’t know you made a mistake if you do it with conviction. They will think “Oh, that was a nice little solo.”

When we give 100% to anything, when we are caught up in the moment, open and vulnerable, but assured of ourselves that no matter what happens, we will just keep dancing, well, that’s living, really living.

Eramosa Eden Support

Home

Eramosa Eden is a spiritual retreat centre for renewing body, mind, and spirit and, for the last five years, it has been an important place for me to replenish and inspire me as a writer, author, and photographer. They now need our help.

Over the period of five years, I have attended full-day writer workshops where I was given opportunity to meet with other like-minded people, to build a community of support and encouragement and to write freely in the variety of settings, both indoors and outdoors, in this beautiful and inspiring place. The rustic buildings, the cedar forest, the bubbling river are all conducive to creating an environment of peace and creativity.

For two years, I was happy to be part of the River Writers group that met bi-weekly in the rooms and buildings of Eramosa Eden where my writing skills and creativity were stretched and stimulated. How wonderful to have such a place to bond together with other creative and talented writers and authors.

My photography club, Into Focus Photography Club, which meets monthly at the Evergreen Seniors Community Centre, enjoyed a stimulating and productive day at Eramosa Eden taking photos of the natural beauty that abounds in this special place.

I, for one, would hate to see this veritable treasure of nature, creativity and spirituality, be lost to another cause or development. It has been an important part of my own growth, not only as a writer and artist, but personally, it has been a quiet retreat of beauty and replenishment, a place to renew my body and soul.

One need only to wander the rooms and the forest to see how important Eramosa Eden has been to many others who have dedicated their time, materials, and efforts to creating beauty in this magical place. Many have left behind a piece of themselves through paintings, weavings, and other creations, all as an offering of gratitude for what has been given to them.

The world needs places like Eramosa Eden. They act as sanctuaries of peace and creativity, places where one can get away from the maddening pace of our regular lives and replenish and stimulate our minds and senses in a quiet and beautiful natural setting. Can you help? Write a letter of support “To Whom It May Concern” and address it to Gloria Nye at glorianye@gmail.com

No One Left Behind

Years ago, as an elementary school teacher, I coached the school cross-country team. One year, my daughter Maegan was a member of the team. That year she taught me a heart-felt lesson that I never forgot.

For those of you who don’t know, a cross country race ends in a funnel, where the trail forces the runners into single file and assures their standing in the race. The race was close that year and our team was doing well. I always stood on the sidelines for my runners, spurring them on as they approached the finish line. In the final curve, Maegan was surging forward as she put on her final spurt, passing runners as she raced forward, ensuring herself and the team a good scoring.

All of a sudden, one of the runners went down, stumbling and falling, holding her ankle and crying out. Maegan raced past her and then suddenly stopped. I started yelling at her, “Maegan, go! You are so close to the finish line. Go! Someone else will get her. There’s lots of us here.”

Without hesitation, Maegan ran back and helped the girl to her feet and together they limped across the finish line as other runners raced past them.

As I watched her, I didn’t know what to think. My own competitive nature felt she should have just continued on with the race. It wasn’t as if the girl wouldn’t be helped by someone else. But as she approached me with a contented smile on her face after the race, I felt a great deal of pride for my daughter. Her priority wasn’t winning the race. She saw a fellow racer in trouble and stopped to help, even though she must have realized that others would have stepped in and that she was forfeiting her good standing in the race.

She taught me a lesson that day. Whenever we have an opportunity to help another human being, act on it. Don’t leave them behind thinking that someone else will take care of the situation. If we all thought that way, the weak and down-trodden may never be helped. We would all be assuming, “It’s not my responsibility. Someone else will do it.” Maybe they will, but maybe they won’t. Choose to help at every opportunity. That way we all win.

The Bubble Has Burst

I’m back from camping for four glorious days at the Hillside Music Festival with my family. We were part of the 1,400 volunteers, musicians, artisans and food-makers who helped to create the magic for the three day festival on a small island in the middle of a lake.

Hillside is really like living in a bubble – a bubble filled with music, singers and poets. It’s filled with drummers and dancers, parades and gatherings, art and artisans, beauty-makers and joy-creators. Tantalizing aromas fill the air with sizzling sausages, spicy tacos and curry fries. Colours and textures infuse the eyes with tie-dyed fabrics, twisted metals and gems, and carved wood pieces. Workshops offer new experiences of living and loving, moving and creating. The Children’s Zone is full of bubbles and paint, sand and water, music, crafts and laughter. The smoke from the Sacred Fire rises to the skies all weekend long, circling around the poles of the tipi in the Indigenous Circle.

Volunteers get to stay on the island where we create Volly Village with tents and trailers, banners and pennants. In the village are old friends and new friends, stories and gatherings, love and sharing. After hours, campfires burn and spontaneous musical jams and drumming fill the nighttime hours until the sun rises and a new day begins.

Yes, Hillside Music Festival is a delicious escape from reality. Now the bubble has burst and we all have returned to our homes. The secret lies in keeping the memories and magic alive in our own little worlds with photos and mementos, shared stories and friendships. It truly was a Happy Hillside and I am looking forward to next year.

My Hillside, My Community

This week I am busy preparing a special secret project that I am making for the Hillside Music Festival Volunteer Village. This will be my 18th Hillside, all of them as a volunteer or as family helping out by looking after little ones so others can work.

Hillside is more than just a festival to me. It’s a community of like-minded people brought together to celebrate summer, music, art, food, the environment and each other. As a volunteer, I have found a new family with other like-minded souls; generous, hard-working, fun-loving people. People who care about me, acknowledge me, sometimes infuriate me, and always make me laugh and feel great.

I am a better person when I’m with my Hillside community. I work hard to make others experiences better. I share my food, my time, and my belongings. I contribute to the greater cause by creating a fun, enjoyable experience for other volunteers with food, stories, music, firewood, singing, dancing, games, or arts and crafts made just for the joy and beauty of it.

Volunteerism brings together people for a common cause and the Hillside Music Festival is a great reason to come together, whether that be as a volunteer or an attendee. Consider coming out to it this weekend. If you miss this one, there’s always next year. I’ll see you there!

More Than 3 R’s

I have been involved in recycling programs through Green Teams at my schools where I taught as an elementary school teacher for decades. Our school won awards and commendation for our work in recycling and waste reduction. It’s important to me. Recycling and waste reduction is a passion and a lifestyle.

Over thirty years, I have watched the progress of recycling programs, moving from small collections of specified waste to larger, more diverse collections, as municipalities and regions got on board with being ‘green.’ I have also noticed the regression of recycling programs as municipalities have tried to deal with massive amounts of recycled items, including plastics. It’s coming to an impasse where the amounts just aren’t financially feasible anymore for recycling plants to find markets for their recycled resources. More and more, supposedly recycled materials are going into landfill sites as many users recycle poorly and recycling plants have to deal with sorting improper disposal of mixed materials in blue and green bins. Plastic has become the biggest polluter as we watch our oceans and landfill sites fill up with these products that take hundreds of years to break down. Social media has flooded us with pictures of miles of floating plastic seas in our oceans and dead and dying whales, birds and other aquatic animals that have been affected by plastics in their habitats.

We need to remember that REDUCE has always been the first of the 3 R’s – Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. We need to reduce the amount of plastic we use. We also need to come up with packaging and merchandise that uses materials that can break down in a reasonable amount of time.

We need some new R’s in our lives.

REGULATE – Don’t allow manufacturers to use and sell merchandise that is wrapped in heavy amounts of plastic. Create laws that prohibit it, the same way we have created laws for greenhouse emissions and hazardous waste disposal, all done in the name of safety for us and longevity for a healthy planet. As a consumer, I will still buy your product. I just need tomatoes. I don’t need the heavy plastic bin that they come in. I just need batteries. I don’t need the heavy plastic packaging that surrounds them.

RECOVERY – Manufacturers and industries can take back their waste from their products that they sell to us and make new products from the waste. One of the biggest companies that I know that do this is The Beer Store, Ontario. They sell their bottles and cans full of beer to us by including a refundable deposit on each container. When we return the empties, we get that money back. They also take back the cardboard from their boxes and packaging. You can read about the whole process on this link. https://torontoist.com/2013/04/what-happens-to-beer-bottles-when-you-return-them-to-the-beer-store/. The Beer Store maximizes the value of their waste.

REFUSE – As a consumer, find more ways to reduce your own personal level of waste. Buy second-hand clothing, use cloth bags, refill your water bottle and coffee cup. Try to buy products that are wrapped in smaller amounts of packaging or buy products that use packaging that breaks down more readily. Let’s lower our waste levels and buy merchandise and products that have the least negative effect on our Earth.

REPURPOSE – Be creative in finding ways to reuse or transform the regular use of objects in our life into new ways. A friend from Trinidad told me tin and/or aluminum cans are used to make lanterns, art or other uses. They are rarely thrown out. I have seen outdoor furniture made from recycled plastics.

RESEARCH – Put money and time and study into ways to lower our impact on our planet. We have to find new ways of dealing with our waste.

REFLECT – Teach our children to value their natural world. Keep circulating information that puts the betterment of our planet at the forefront. Think about your own personal way you relate to the planet and all that is in it. Greed leads to consumerism and high levels of waste as we buy more and more and more.

Be RESPONSIBLE for your impact on the planet. Let your thoughts and concerns be shown through action. Do something to help. Do something to reduce your own footprint on the Earth.

RESPECT our planet. Let’s RESCUE and REVIVE our beautiful blue ball and RESTORE it to its natural state of wonder.

Dancer Woman by B. Heagy



I –  Dancer Woman laps up the space,

  Licks the edges in gentle rolls,

  Slowly stretches to full extreme,

  Gathers bundles of energy In soulful arms.

II – Dancer Woman

  She wades in tidal pools

  And gathers miniature treasures of self-expression —

  Enough to last for tomorrows.

III – Dancer Woman, oceanic,

  Invites me to water’s edge

  To taste her sensuous pleasures.

  Hand in hand,

  We wade in watery delight,

  Ride cresting waves

  Buoyant and bright.

  I hold my breath and plunge

  As she takes me into deepened shadows

  Of other worlds.

  

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.