The Art of Knowing When to Refuel - PART IV - Chasing the eagle

So there I was, gingerly grabbing what looked like an old kayak out from under a pine tree, paranoid about accidentally treading on any poison ivy leaves hiding beneath dead brush or hiding amid a kayak full of spider webs and dust.

I hate poison ivy. What's more, it hates me.

When I get even the tiniest patch it spreads like wildfire on my skin, popping up anywhere it senses an achilles heel of weakness on my skin. And I have no self-control when it comes to scratching, scars be damned. I shouldn't complain though. My son gets it worse than I do.

When he was twelve, his teacher got a brainchild to take students outside to pick leaves in the bush behind the school and he got poison ivy so bad, it deformed his skin (temporarily). There was nowhere on his body it didn't spread to - except you know... there.

The only way to describe his condition to others was to refer to him as the Elephant Man after the disease by the same name, made famous by John Merrick and forever represented in a 1980 movie by David Lynch.

It was heartbreaking and lasted three full weeks. Thankfully it didn't leave any scars. At least not visibile ones...

Mine wasn't that bad. Nevertheless, I didn't want those little bastard leaves anywhere near me.

So, it took me the better part of an hour to determine which of the two overturned kayaks on the property held the least likelihood of harboring poison ivy and went after that one.

Once I dragged it to the dock and scared away all the spiders and bugs with a broom, I dropped it in the water, climbed in carefully in and headed out onto the lake without a life jacket.

Not too bright as I hadn't told a soul what I was doing or where I was going but then again, the lake was a manageable size and I figured if I tipped over, I could always kick my way back to shore, dragging the kayak behind me.

Now it was just me, the water, and GOD.

Time for a little spiritual test.

Have you ever wanted a sign that God was listening? That he was watching all of your struggles with interest and concern and that he was waiting until the timing was just right before he intervened with your greatest good in mind?

Okay. Maybe not.

How about that's he just around?

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

Doing... something.

Preferrably something for someone's greater good.

Anybody's.

Yeah, 'cause that's where I was when it came to God. It's not that I didn't think he was around. I just figured I hadn't warranted his attention yet. I simply thought He had better things to attend to besides me.

So I put it to Him...

As I glided along I said, "Okay, if you really are around, in this sacred place - supposedly - (no offence or anything, but you did make us creatures who want proof) - give me a real sign. I know I know. You sent me a hawk in the yard - that was cool, thanks for that - then that hummingbird - which was truly beautiful, then that annoying little butterfly trying to capture my attention by hanging around my nose but you know, God, what I really want is to see an E ----"

and suddenly, there it was...

An American Bald Eagle.

I glided beneath it, staring up at it, stunned at how incredibly majestic it was. To witness its presence in person, in the wild was unspeakably humbling... I blubbered the rest of my sentence ...see an Eagle... cuz then... I'll.... wow.... holy crap...

You're listening.

There he was sitting motionless atop a pine tree that was growing through the cracks of the Canadian Shield.

Holy shit. You're really listening.

For the first time in a long time, there was no doubt in my mind.

I must have circled beneath that eagle for an hour, trying to absorb the significance of my encounter, and the spiritual message it held for me.

I was eagle obsessed.

I only moved on when for a brief moment, it acknowledged my annoying presence by tilting its head down just enough to make eye contact. At that point, I only hoped I didn't look like dinner as I had no intention of getting close and personal with those talons or that beak, no matter how gorgeous he was.

The rest of my day was spent in contemplation of that eagle encounter. Later on in the afternoon, my AP and I each took a kayak and made our way down the lake. My Bald eagle was still there. Motionless.

For now, I felt he was mine in some sort of cosmic way.

Once again, I circled beneath - this time, I waved at him. He looked down at me, adjusted his wing and gave me the illusion that he had just. waved. back.

I KID YOU NOT.

The next day was even more holy.

I never saw my eagle again, but my time at Still Rock can only be described as transformational.

Sometimes, you need a sacred space in which to see the world as it really is, outside of this paradigm we know as our day to day life.

Sometimes, you need friends who are on the path, that can help you transform your world from one of limited possibilities to endless ones.

Sometimes, even just a couple of days - well spent with conscious awareness - can have the most profound effect on someone...if they are open and choose to embrace a new way of being.

I returned home to the chaos that was my life but I felt emotionally strong, capable of handling anything with the grace of someone who has been blessed and touched by spirit and offered a new perspective, even a new beginning...

Life would never be the same...

Tha Art of knowing when to refuel - PART III - chasing the eagle

Manny.

That had become my nickname. "Manny" was short for manic behaviour. I was hyper beyond in an environment that should have turned me into a lazy-boy chair but instead turned me into a human spinning top.

I was the Energizer Bunny times ten.

You see, Still Rock was not just any old cabin in the woods whose grounds were teeming with untold flowers and colorful mulch, swing chairs and hammocks.

Still Rock is a spiritual retreat.

For real.

(Given my energetic reaction, it should have been called "Rolling Stone" but then again, these things affect everyone differently).

And Still Rock carries within its parameters an energy vortex that is conducive to experiencing greater shifts in self-awareness than if you were say, at the corner of Portage and Main in downtown Winnipeg.

Of course, you have to want it too.

But that is, fundamentally, the reason for its existence and the reason I went. This place helps people shift into a newer, better version of themselves on the path to greater meaning and self-awareness in their lives.

And it's perfect.

Not only is it divinely peaceful, but it holds a spiritual energy where people gather to process and transform their lives to the next level on a path of personal and spiritual evolution. With that kind of continual lingering energy, it's impossible not to transform.

Think about it for a minute...

There's a reason we are more comfortable in some environments than others. That's why we gravitate towards some places when we need a 'boost' and stay the hell away from others when we are feeling emotionally drained or weak.

Sometimes it's the energy of the people in that area and sometimes it's the place itself that holds a certain magnetic field, ley line, sacred energy, hallowed ground, or strong vibration that has a certain effect on those who visit.

It's like being in a church.

Even if you aren't religious, a place like Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris can have a profoundly pious effect on even the most sacriligious of characters. Sure, it might be the deliberate architecture designed to draw your eye upward that reminds you how small you really are in the cosmos, but it's more than that.

I think it's also a quality of energy based on the millions of people who have passed through it and silently uttered their heart-felt prayers. In my opinion, that intent lingers and we, who enter its sacred doors, feel the remnants of that powerful collective energy.

But whatever it is, in times of stress we are drawn to certain areas and tend to steer clear of others. Why? Because intuitively we KNOW. In that way we're pretty damn smart as human beings even if we don't admit it most of the time or call it hogwash to our friends (but secretly admit it when we're hovering between theta and delta as we slip into an unconscious sleep).

But we KNOW what's good for us. And WHERE. It's too bad most of us don't do anything about it. Or when we do, it's not frequent enough.

And although some people may argue that any cabin has a positive effect because it's away from the city and surrounded by nature, I beg to differ. I've been to some and thought, "I'd rather be home and back in my own space."

If you still don't get what I'm talking about, just google 'what is an energy vortex' and watch what happens. Probably the most famous area with a plenitude of vorteces would be in Sedona. People come from all over the world to experience its effects.

Sedona's vorteces are simply known as 'The world's most popular invisible tourist attraction'.

So given that I knew what I needed, and heard what Still Rock was all about, I made a decision...

I was going to Still Rock to transform.

What exactly, I didn't know. But I knew something was going to happen.

And what better way to start that journey than glide through still waters on a kayak... chasing eagles....

The Art of knowing when to refuel - PART II - chasing the eagle

Just to recap, a few days before my son moved to Toronto, I buggered off.

It was only for two days. But I had been functioning under pressure for so long that I knew if I didn't slow down I was going to pop a blood vessel somewhere vital to my well-being and the fluid that leaked out might put me to sleep forever.

So I went from survival mode to self-preservation mode.

They might sound the same, but they're radically different. Survival involves other people and a sort of whole group mentality. You learn to amalgamate, function, co-exist, and micro-manage in a utilitarian sort of way, ie; for the good of the whole.

That's one kind. (Sometimes, you learn to survive IN SPITE of the whole. That's not so fun).

Self-preservation on the other hand, is a nice way of saying, 'Screw everyone. The buck stops here. If I don't do what's best for me RIGHT NOW I'll be about as useful as a kitchen sponge that's seen better days.

Sure I appeared calm on the outside - an easy enough state to achieve having existed in survival mode for years - but the truth of the matter was, somewhere in my head there was an 'on' button that for the life of me, I couldn't turn off.

I mean, even when there was no longer any reason to worry or boss everyone around, I was still doing it. It was time to check out of the concrete jungle so I could be reminded there was a world outside of my apartment window and family dynamics.

So I went to a friend's friend's cabin on Grassy Lake. It's a spiritual retreat - only they were on vacation and my AP (accountability partner) was cabin-sitting so I could pretend it was ALL MINE.

That part was easy because relations between my AP and I are so easy that I can do whatever I want - disappear for hours or hang around - and she wouldn't care. Now that's my definition of a good relationship.

No pressure, no guilt, no obligation. Just be yourself.

Unfortunately, the hard part was learning how to 'just be' fast enough to make maximum use of the two days I had to completely unwind.

Just look at that ridiculous sentence. It even sounds like an oxymoron.

But with no neighbors across the lake, no visible neighbors to either side and a landscaped garden filled with an obscene number of flowers, swinging benches, loungers, hammocks and private niches for contemplation, I was good as gold.

I figured it would take me all of five minutes to unwind until I walked in the cabin door and saw the calm glow emanating from my AP and her friend from Florida. They had been there for only two days.

If I didn't know them, I would have thought they were actors being paid to be part of the ambience and my experience that's how beatific they were.

This was better than reality TV.

Between their genuinely warm and charming attitudes and those cotton and silk pyjamas they were both wearing, they were positively angelic.

And there I was, with camouflage shorts, a wife-beater T, and a headband.

"Nicole, this is Marnie"

She embraced me as only an angelic being could and asked me if I would like some fresh fruit salad she was about to make.

"Sure! That would be AWESOME. I'm STARVING!"

"Well let me make you breakfast then too" she said softly, tucking her wings in behind her back, "Do you want one egg or two?"

"Uh, one I guess. Doesn't matter really. Someone else is making me breakfast! And you don't even KNOW me! How cool is that? HOW LUCKY AM I?! So, how long you been out here?"

She smiled kindly and patiently at my manic behaviour and I swear I saw a twinkling light shine off her front teeth as she did.

"Two days".

"Jesus, I hope I look as good as you the day after tomorrow"

She smiled again and went about making ME breakfast.

I went outside to gather in the sights and sounds of paradise and find 'just the right spot' to force myself to enjoy nature and after going around in circles like a chicken with an equilibrium problem, I finally settled on a swinging chair that was in the garden but still had a view of the lake.

As I waited for breakfast to arrive I saw a hawk swoop through the yard just in front of me. It was so close I could feel the draft it left in its wake.

Then I saw a hummingbird hover with inconceivable talent near its flower of choice. It was so close, I could see its irridescent green feathers.

Not bad for the first five minutes of my retreat into the Divine.

That's when my fruit salad arrived, complete with shredded coconut, mango and blueberries.

It was the BEST FRUIT SALAD I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE.

For that entire day, I left my AP and Marnie to visit with one another elsewhere while I re-acquainted myself with... me.

I chose the book I would read over the next two days, found a hammock overlooking the lake, a few pillows and chilled. As I lay there swinging gently in the perfect breeze with the perfect combination of sunshine and clouds making the leaves in the trees above me dance on the page of my book, a butterfly decided to visit.

She was flapping her little wings and dancing in that erratic way they do as she went around and around my nose as if to say;

Why are you reading when nature is all around you? Can you see me NOW?

And if I didn't get it yet, I was about to.

Cuz it was time to take the kayak out! Oh yeah babi. That's what I'm talking about. Adventure city.

I'd never been on a kayak before. But as I told my AP later:

There's only one paddle, how hard could it be?

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Next: Part II of chasing the eagle

The Art of knowing when to refuel - PART I

And I'm not talking about a car.

According to my stepmom, my 85 year old father has taken to pushing those boundaries by driving his car as close to empty as possible before hitting the gas station.

He's missed the mark twice now, but I digress...

I'm talking about what every soul needs to function properly - nature.

Given the events of the last month (son #2's move to Toronto, son #3's move into my apartment - with all his stuff - then out again, and son #1 shooting his first film short), I've been oh... busier than Tim Horton's coffee shop during final exams.

Don't get me wrong. I love being there for them and not because I have to - I don't do guilt - but because I genuinely like them as human beings. They're so worth it.

BUT, even though I knew I was going to miss my kid like crazy when he left, somewhere near the end of his life-in-Winnipeg-as-he-knew-it, I HAD to take a break.

Given we were closing in on the final days however, I was hesitant.

I mean what kind of a mother ditches her kid for two days when he's only got 5 days left and is stressing (and rightly so) over the monumental changes he is about to incur?

Answer: The kind who knows she needs to refuel and if she doesn't, risks doing more harm than good because everyone will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off at which time her maternal cue to perform "damage control" will kick in.

And that had disaster written ALL OVER IT.

So I buggered off.

The way I had it figured, I would come back and the worst would be over, ( worst being a relative term).

That would leave me with 3 glorious days of hanging out with him post-trauma before his one way flight to his new life.

Back in June I had planned a short, 4 day trip to a friend's cabin after my son's projected date of departure. But when that date was pushed back, I was left with a difficult decision:

Do I stay and help him move? Hang around, providing moral support, soup and my incessant motherly advice?

Or do I pretend he's an adult and trust he'll be fine with the support he already has, knowing I'll come back emotionally rejuvenated and thus better prepared to absorb the magnitude of this change in my own existence?

It was a no-brainer.

And whatever minor hesitation I had initially experienced was sated the moment I saw him upon my return:

Him: Be happy you weren't here. It was awful!

Me: I know. Why do you think I left?

Him: You should have seen the sketchy characters from the moving company take our stuff! They even made me sign a waiver that they weren't responsible for any damage, loss, fire, theft or ACT OF GOD that might occur between here and Toronto!

Me: (smiling calmly)

Him: I wouldn't be surprised if our stuff showed up on Ebay.

Me: (smiling calmly)

Him: By the way, you look great... I'm glad you went.

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Next: The art of knowing when to refuel PART II - ahhhh, Mother Nature

The Art of working through your s***

My place looks like a half-way house. (According to my daughter-in-law).

And I can't argue her to the contrary because I don't think I've ever been in a half-way house. I think it looks more like a storage facility packed by a dyslexic bunch with no concept of order.

But then again, it's not every day you see a table on its side, blocking two TV's, in front of a coffee table behind 3 couches, a queen size mattress, three desks, multiple plants with no access to sunlight, a hallway blocked by boxes and a few empty bookshelves randomly scattered throughout.

And that's just the living room.

The items of two and a half apartments have been stuffed into one - mine.

Until today.

Son #3 is moving into his new apartment as we speak and son #2 moved to Toronto this morning with his girlfriend.

It's been a helluva couple of months.

I have to admit, just yesterday, I couldn't take the dark curtains drawn anymore (it's been blistering hot) and I ripped everything open, heat be damned!

There was so much 'stuff' I was claustrophobic beyond.

But in a way I can hardly explain, it was loads of fun.

Maybe it's because I've never done the college dorm thing. Or maybe it's because when I was still a single parent I was scrambling to understand who I was and what had happened to me and missed out on 'just watching' the comaraderie between my boys.

Either way, I was privy to observing an unparalleled warmth between people - 3 boys and their 3 girlfriends - amid the mess, and it was a stellar experience.

I'm not saying they never fight. Or never swear for that matter. They can make an angry truck-driver sound like a good mennonite boy.

And trust me, when they're pissed at each other, everybody knows it.

All of a sudden, it's not "my brother this, my brother that", it's "your son is an asshole, you know that don't you?" to which I reply, "you mean your brother?" to which they reply, "not right now he's not!"

But they've learned an invaluable lesson that some people take a lifetime to figure out and others never do.

You can't be mad forever. It's EXHAUSTING.

It used to be when I heard the words, "Your son is a dick, I'm NEVER talking to him again, I MEAN IT!" I used to sweat bullets thinking my boys would split off from each other emotionally and it would leave a big gaping hole in my heart FOREVER.

But it always passes. It took me a long time to realize this because with some people, it never passes. Like my mom. That's what I was used to.

Every fight, every form of resentment was layered. My mom was like the bricklayer of personified hate.

But my kids have had so many fights over the years, and gotten to know each other so well, they just KNOW things always come right again. It's like an unwritten rule or something.

But it also requires work.

You have to want those relationships in your life. So you make it a priority to speak your mind and make it work. No matter what. The boys have learned to talk through all of their issues as they come up so there's very little build up.

So now, when they can have a wicked argument they can say (on the spot):

"I'll talk to you in a few days when I'm over it but right now I think you're a complete dick."

Meanwhile, I still have to work through my fear that they won't speak to each other EVER AGAIN. It's my first reaction. And I have to ask myself: Why?

And then it hit me. I think about my mom and how she handles conflict.

The difference between how she handles conflict (or anger) and how the boys do is like night and day.

They know they'll get over it and that anger is a temporary feeling.

She doesn't.

They know that love is where it's at and nothing in life is worth hating for an extended period of time because it sucks the life out of you. (And the joy out of your existence).

She feeds off it.

They forgive.

That word is not in her vocabulary.

They will take responsibility when they've done something wrong and actually admit it. Ie; each party apologizes for their part in the argument.

I have never heard my mom take responsibility for any of her actions.

Not once.

And she has never apologized. (Unless you count the time she called me from a psych ward in Germany after a ten year absence and in a creepy voice, said; I'm going to hell Nicole... for all the bad things I've done, I'm going to hell...) [her shaky voice trailing off]

And finally, before the boys let anything get out of hand in their minds (or let their imagination run wild), they clear the air.

Sure, some of those arguments aren't pretty, but they never last. It's all out in the open and whoever is wrong will listen to the reasoning of the other and if warranted, is prepared to admit their part in it.

And usually they discover, it takes two.

My mom has never done either; Not clear the air, nor has she ever admitted being wrong.

No sirree. Not her. She stews and sits in it (whatever it is) until it festers like a pussing wound and she's on the verge of exploding green crap or that yellow bile stuff.

And that's usually when she writes... A LETTER.

The last one came a week ago. Just a few weeks after I saw her. She didn't send it to me as she doesn't know where I live. (There's a reason I maintain address anonymity).

Unfortunately she sent it to son #3 to "pass along to your mother".

Fortunately, he had the good sense to read the first paragraph and realize it was another hate mail letter and threw it out without reading further.

And stuffed in the middle of this 'novella' (as my son referred to it) was a card I had sent her, torn in half. I can imagine the frenzied state she was in to do such a thing.

Then again, maybe I don't want to.

Part of me was mildly curious as to the contents of that letter. (I do somewhat possess a morbid curiosity as to why and for what reason she despises me so venomously).

The other part was grateful my son had the good sense to throw it out and by so doing, disengage in the drama.

The only reason he told me about the letter in the first place is because I had expressed to him that in spite of her 'digs' I thought my "visit with Grandma" had gone relatively well and I was contemplating when I should see her again.

He convinced me otherwise.

Smart kid.

So over the last month, when I looked around at the nuclear fallout of clothes and neverending 'stuff' around me, and witnessed 3 young men work through the emotions associated with being split up geographically (amid all the last minute stress) I thought to myself;

It's time I stop worrying about whether they are going to never talk to each other again after a big fight.

It's time I remind myself that my mother's approach to conflict is not theirs and NOT the norm.

It's time to remember that I am not my mother and that my life in no way, shape or form, either reflects her philosophies nor patterns itself on her way of being.

Not anymore...