Cloaks are for Dress Up

people at theater
Photo by Monica Silvestre on


I love throwing on the Cloak of Chef.  Artist.  Homemaker. Health Nut. Teacher. Ballet Dancer.  There’s so many lovely cloaks we can put on and they transport us into a new facet of our identity.

I’m no Gordon Ramsey.  I’m not Picasso.  I’m not Martha Stewart or Doctor Oz.  I’m not the Dalai Lama and I’m certainly not the famous Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova.

But each bright morning presents a new stage.  Dawn’s curtain opens as the birds welcome us to the stage.  The sun beckons us like the stage lights to come  celebrate our talents and ambitions.

So take a moment.  Write your script.  Figure out what cloaks you want to wear on this stage of life today.  The options are endless.  Don’t worry, there’s the inevitable plot twists but there’s always going to be new beautiful costumes to wear.  They just may be different from the ones you had in your mind.

So, cook to your hearts content and when you tire of that paint a little picture.  Organize a drawer and make a healthy meal.  Take a moment for meditation and plie if you choose in the hall mirror.  And smile.


Above all, dance your own dance.

What a shame if we just stand in the shadows of another’s dance, imitating their every move.  There will be no authenticity or joy to be found.  For Christians, this is the sin of emulations.  We aren’t here to emulate each other.  We are here to inspire each other.  By our own uniqueness.

I hope you wear each cloak with excitement and I hope you abandon each one with the same fervour.  Knowing that with each cloak is new adventures to be experienced.

So, Let’s Dress Up.  There is No Rehearsal.





Dusk til Dark



Sitting at our Easter Table with the Remnants of Lemon Pie in front of me and crumbs dusting the tablecloth, my heart Flooded With Memories.

The light was growing Dim and the white plates and my daughter’s leftover coffee gleamed in the Coming Twilight.  A wonderful Dusky Blue was settling over the Night Sky.

I’ve always Adored The Dusk.  It settles over the Earth like a mother placing a quilt over her tired baby.  Quietly and Tenderly.

I think of all my dear Earth Mothers.

Especially my Nana.

So many  Dusky Twilights I spent sitting with her in her Sweet Kitchen.  Her sitting in her rocking chair.  She would tell me stories and I would just listen.  Mostly just lulled into a sweet peace by the sound of her foot rhythmically pressing into the floor and the gentle wheezing of her breath between her sentences.

I would sit listening to her on a wooden kitchen chair.  Wedged by the porch door and a little table.  Her beside me.  Until the Dusk became the Dark and we no longer could distinguish the features on each others faces.

I would rise and say I was heading home.  She so sweetly would thank me for my visit and then the screen door with the loud springs  would welcome me into the night air.

I would run for home.  Sure that there was a Monster on my tail, I ran like the Dickens.  My little blonde braids trailing behind me.  The sound of my feet on the gravel sounded my terror.

Out of breath, I’d arrive across the road in my sweet little white warm bungalow.  I would rest, happy to escape the Night Monsters grasp.  Warmed by another Sweet Twilight Visit with Nana.

So as I sit looking at the Remnants of Easter Dinner,  I’m so Utterly Grateful for Family.  Both Blood Related and those Born Of Soul Connection.

Where would we be without Each Other.

My door will Always Be Open.  For a Twilight Visit.  We can talk til the Dark Envelops Us.  Then I’ll Kiss you Goodbye.  The Night Air will feel So Fresh as I stand by the door, Waving you into Tomorrow.

I Love You. Sleep Tight.  Life is Beautiful.



Baking with Barbra

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What a Beautiful Mess.  Nothing makes me Happier than Barbra Streisand and Baking in My Messy Kitchen.

Barbra is singing “Somewhere”.

Someday …Somewhere…We’ll Find a New Way of Living…

Kind of Apt for Life these Days.

I don’t know what it is These Days, but I feel like I want to Roll A Cot into my kitchen.  I want to Eat, Sleep and Breathe all things Kitchen.  I love the act of Flipping My Lamp On.  I realize it’s a Bit Odd to have a lamp in your kitchen, but I love Anything more by Lamplight.  Turn on some Jazz.  Preferably Barbara Streisand these days.  And Flipping a Cookbook as my dog Charlie lays her sweet frame by my feet.

I love the Sound of Sizzling Butter.  The smell of Yeast Rising.   Boiling Water on the Stove.

There’s no other Room in my Sweet Home that brings me this much Comfort.  Where else can I Stumble at 3 a.m. and peel back the cellophane and hold a rich, gooey brownie in my sleepy hands.? Is there anything better than a Stolen Sweet Snack in the middle of the night?

Or peel a wonderful Navel Orange standing over the sink and let the Wonderful Citrus  Aroma and Flavour awaken you for a Brief Moment so I can find my way back to my little bedroom at the back of my Cottage.  And curl up again under the warm duvet for a couple more Sweet Hours.

Our Homes are our Sanctuaries.  Especially our Kitchens.  I wonder how many of us are getting Reacquainted?  Trying New Recipes?  Letting the Old Ones calm our Senses and Bring Continuity in a truly Unprecedented Time.

I’m So Grateful I Can Hardly Stand It.

Words Fail Me to fully describe how much I Appreciate Safety.  Continuity.  Quietness in this Harried Time.

I have Learned over the Span of Life that my Feelings are Common.  So I pray you are all feeling Calm and Centered in your Homes.

And Enjoying 3 am Stolen Confectionaries  from the Pantry.




Snow Fall or Ashes?

rain of snow in town painting
Photo by Lisa Fotios on

Outside my kitchen window, a Spring Snow is falling.  Big Fat Flakes.   I can feel the Hush settling as it always does over the City.  Everything gets Quieter.  But then there’s a Realization.

It Reminds me of Ashes.

There’s a Refining Fire Burning.  It’s Aflame all over the World.  A Proving Fire.

Our Finances are Burnt Away as Chaff.  So Many Dreams Up in Smoke.  Lives Snuffed Out way Too Early.

But as Gold is Not Dimmed but only Shines Brighter in the Fire, I See Your Gold.

I see those who Stay Home to not Tax our Burdened Health Care Systems.  To Protect the Elderly.  The Immune Suppressed.

I see CEO’s taking The Hit.  Sacrificing their Salaries to keep their staff Employed.

I see Doctors working Too Long of Shifts.  Nurses quietly weeping from Exhaustion in their Cars.  Missing their Families.

I saw the USS Comfort pull into Harbour.

I see my fellow Calgarians wave to me So Kindly as I give them a wide wide berth when I’m out walking Charlie.

I’ve been a Recipient of many a Caring Phone Call.  My Bosses at Gowling.  My Churchgoing Brothers and Sisters.

Many I Love Yous and Stay Wells from even the Introverted and those Uncomfortable with Affection.

I cant help But Feel, when all this Settles, and the Ashes No Longer Float through our Grief Stricken Air, that we will be Better For It.  Stronger For It.  Kinder For It.

Yes, we see Mistakes Being Made by Governments.  Even our Neighbours.  But maybe we can just in our Own Corner, Shine a Little Brighter. Love a Little Harder.  Let the Ashes Fall where they Will.  Let it Quieten Us.  Hush our Egos.  And Create a New Dawn.  A New Awakening in Each One of Us.

I Love You.


Devant la fenêtre de ma cuisine, une neige de printemps tombe.  Je peux sentir le silence s’installer comme il le fait toujours au-dessus de la ville. Tout devient plus silencieux. Mais alors il y a une Réalisation. Cela me rappelle des cendres.

Il y a un feu de raffinage. C’est Aflame partout dans le monde. Un feu qui prouve. Nos finances sont brûlées en tant que paillettes. Tant de rêves dans la fumée. Il vit trop tôt.

Mais comme l’or n’est pas grisé mais ne brille que plus dans le feu, je vois votre or. Je vois ceux qui restent à la maison pour ne pas taxer nos systèmes de soins de santé surchargés. Pour protéger les personnes âgées. L’immunité supprimée.

Je vois le PDG prendre le coup. Sacrifier leurs salaires pour garder leur personnel employé.

Je vois des médecins qui travaillent trop longtemps. Les infirmières pleurent doucement d’épuisement dans leurs voitures. Manquer leurs familles.

J’ai vu l’USS Comfort entrer dans le port.

Je vois mes compatriotes calgariens me saluer si gentiment que je leur donne une large place quand je sors avec Charlie.

J’ai reçu de nombreux appels téléphoniques attentionnés. Mes patrons à Gowling. Mes frères et sœurs fidèles.

Beaucoup je t’aime et reste bien même des introvertis et des mal à l’aise avec l’affection.

Je ne peux pas m’empêcher de sentir, quand tout cela s’installera et que les cendres ne flotteront plus dans notre air de chagrin, que nous serons meilleurs pour cela. Plus fort pour ça.

Oui, nous voyons des erreurs commises par les gouvernements. Même nos voisins. Mais peut-être que nous pouvons simplement dans notre propre coin, briller un peu plus. Aimer un peu plus fort. Laissez les cendres tomber où elles le voudront. Que cela nous calme. Faites taire nos Egos. Et créez une nouvelle aube. Un nouvel éveil en chacun de nous.

Je t’aime.


Home Fires

What I Saw Through a Window in the Night — your best nest

Up in the Eaves of the Attic in the sweet little moss green Craftsman across the street, there’s a Lamp Glowing.  I can see my Dear Grey Haired Neighbour reading his book in the Amber Glow.

In the two story adjacent is the College Crew.  Every light in the house is On.  Same as their Spirits as they jive and groove to tunes I’m sure I could hear if I strained my ear.

In the Brick New England style apartment building down my street a good three quarters of the windows are lit up.  The tin ceilings painted their various colours creating a happy Window Rainbow of Homey Vibes.  Our dear Canadian Flag waving its Strength can be seen on top of this Brick Beautiful Behemoth as Dusk turns to Twilight.

I Love You, You Dear Flag.  What you Do for my Heart.  A tear of Appreciation wells up in my chest for my Country.

A Small Invisible Foe has Threatened not only Dear Canada, but the World Over.  What a Privilege to sink down into our Abodes and Wait Out this Time of Tribulation.

I think of those who Cant Be Home.  The Sick.  The Quarantined away from their Sanctuaries.  Those on the Front Lines.  Caring in the Chaos.  Lives being Sown on the Altar of Sacrifice for our Common Welfare.

Those who Desperately Crave to Open their Home Doors.  Pet their Dogs.  Put on the Kettle.  Pour themselves a Long Bath.  Play a little Jazz.  Kiss their Loved Ones.  Tuck their Babies into Bed.

Thank You from my Exploding Grateful Heart.  I See You.  I won’t Forget You.

And I’ll Keep the Home Fires Burning.  So that when this is Over, my Door is Open.  My Heart will be Open.  To Share in the Stories.  How we’ve Grown.  What we’ve Learned.  And we will Remember forever those who have left us Far Too Soon.

Please know I Love You, my Dear Fellow Global Family.  Wherever You Are.

Please Stay Well.


( Please have mercy on my French.  I’m sure I’m committing sacrilege to your sweet Language…and thank you to my Parisian Readers for being part of My World)

Dans l’avant-toit du grenier dans le doux petit artisan vert mousees de l’autre cote de la rue, il y a une lampe qui brille.  Je vois mon cher voisin aux cheveux gris lire son livre dans la lueur ambree.

Dan les deux etages adjacents se trouve le College Crew.  Chaque lumiere de la maison est allumee.  Identiques a leurs esprits alors qu’ils jive et groove sure des airs, je suis sur que je pourrais entendre si je tendais l’oreille.

Dans l’immeuble de style Brick New England dans ma rue, les trois quarts des fenetres sont eclairees.  Les plafonds en etain ont peint leurs differentes couleurs creant un joyeux arc-en-ciel de fenetre de Homey Vibes.  Notre cher drapeau Canadien agitant sa force peut etre vu au-dessus de ce magnifique behemoth en brique alors que Dusk se tourne vers Twilight.

Je t’aime, toi cher drapeau.  Ce que vous faites pour mon coeur.  Une larme d’appreciation jaillit dans ma poitrine pour mon pays.

Un petit ennemi invisible a menace non seulement le cher Canada, mais le monde entier.  Quel privilege de sombrer dans nos demeures et d’attendre cette periode de tribulations.

Je pense a ceux qui ne peuvent pas etre chez eux.  Le Malade.  Les Quarantains lloin de leurs Sanctuaires.  Ceux sur les lignes de front.  Prendre soin du Chaos.  Des vies semees sur l’autel du sacrifice pour notre bien-etre commun.

Ceux qui ont despesperement envie d’ouvriri leurs portes.  Caressez leurs chiens.  Mettez la bouilloire.  Versez-vous un long bain.  Jouez un peu de jazz.  Embrassez leurs proches.  Rentrez leurs bebes dans le lit.

Merci de mon coeur reconnaissant qui explose.  Je vous vois.  Je ne t’oublierai pas.

Et je garderai les incendies domestiques brulants.  Alors que quand c’est fini, ma porte est ouverte.  Mon coeur sera ouvert.  Pour partager les histoires.  Comment nous avons grandi,  Ce que nous avons appris.  Et nous nous souviendrons pour toujours de ceux qui nous ont quittes bien trop tot.

S’il vous plait, sachez que je vous aime, ma chere famille mondiale.  Ou que tu sois.

Veuillez rester bien.






Life’s Melody

flock of birds
Photo by Efdal YILDIZ on

When I’m Quiet, I can Hear It.

I realized Today my Heart hears it before I do.

Walking Charlie in the Spring air today, my heart Stirred. I felt it Lift and Soar and Jump in my Chest.  A Warmth spread like honey warmed by the sun in my sweater and a small smile started to coax the corners of my mouth.  I couldn’t help it, my head slowly rose to the sky as my breath became Deep and Full in my tummy.

A warm gust of air brushed little strands of hair across my face.  Ice snapped and crackled under my boots.  A bird sang a hopeful song.  And there it was.  A Melody.  Life’s Melody.  Awakening my senses and stirring me Once More.

I love you Life.  Sing to Me Again.  Wake me Up to Your Pleasures.  Make me Dance this Beautiful Dance with you.

You’re the Ultimate.

I Love You.


Quand je suis Calme, je peux L’entendre.

J’ai realize au’jourd’hui que mon coeur l’entend avant moi.

Marcher Charlie dans l’air du printemps au’jourd’hui  mon coeur s’agitait.  Je l’ai senti se soulever, et sauter dans ma poitrine.  Une chaleur repandue comme du miel rechauffe par le soliel dans mon pull et un petit sourire a commence a cajoler aux coins de ma bouche.  Je ne pouvez pas m’en empecher, ma tete monta lentement vers le ciel alors que ma respiration devenait profonde et pleine dans mon ventre.

Une boufee d’air chaud effleura de petites meches de cheveux sur mon visage. La glace  s’est cassee et a crepite sous mes bottes.  Un oiseau a chante une chanson pleine d’espoir.  Et C’etait La.  Une Melodie.  Melodie de la Vie.  Eveillant mes sens et me remuant encore une fois.

Je t’aime Le Vie.  Chante Encore pour moi.  Revielle moi a tes plaisirs.  Fais moi c’est une Belle Danse Avec Toi.

Vous Etes L’ultime.

Je T’aime.






















Love in an Elevator (Not what you Think )


Riding the elevator to work today, I had this incredible overwhelming sense of love for all aboard. I didn’t know their stories nor their backgrounds. I didn’t know if they were good people or ones with horrible wicked tendencies. There was just this feeling of camaraderie. A sense of we are in this together and not meaning the four walls of the elevator.

We all shared one experience for sure. Birth. We were born into the world. Pure. Then everything became different. Vastly different for each one of us.

Life catapulted us forward. Some to privilege. Some straight into a path of suffering. But like birth, one thing we still experience together that’s the same is life force. A beating heart.

Because we breathe, we are worthy. Worthy of respect. Even the worst of us.

I felt an overwhelming desire that just that one day if possible even the not so deserving would have a good day. A peaceful one. One of hope. One of clarity. A day where the road was easier. The sun would shine a little warmer on their face.

It didn’t cost me anything.

I stepped off the elevator a lot richer.

Love you all

School of You

analog clock sketch in black surface
Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on

We Graduate with PhDs.

We have our Masters.



We can Save Lives.

Cure Disease.


Create New Inventions.

But if Asked the Question…

What Makes You Happy?

What Inspires You?

What are your Passions?

What are your Biggest Fears?

Where do you want to Be in Five Years?

What do you want to Achieve in Your Life Time?

What do you want your Life Resume to Say at 80?

Many of Us are Stumped.

We haven’t taken the time to Study Ourselves.

Haven’t discovered Our Uniqueness.

Our Purpose.

We have Never Attended the School of You.

Sign Up. Take the Course. Do the Work.

It’s the Best Investment.

There’s Only One You.

Become an Expert of You.


Tallen, Like the Eagle’s Talon

black hawk soaring
Photo by Tim Mossholder on

I Have A Friend, Tallen.

Many Years My Junior.

Raised By a Meth Addict.

Fought his Way through School.

Not to Be Aggressive. But to Merely Survive.

He worked in the Mailroom By Day.

University Studies at Night.

Working Tirelessly on his Law Degree.

His Girlfriend has Four Children.

A Victim of Domestic Abuse.

He Fathers them Tenderly.

Speaks of Her with so much Respect.

I love Tallen.

As the Talon of An Eagle Holds Onto It’s Prey…

So Does Tallen.

He’s Driven. Tenacious.

But, In His Presence, one Feels Like the Eagle.

He makes you Feel Strong. Able for Anything.

He even Feels like the Wind under your Wing.

Thanks for Stopping By the Office, Tallen. Thanks for the Updraft.

I Love You.


A Rebellious Heart

brown blocks heart shape wall mount ornament
Photo by Mike on
Pick Your Rebelling…

Rebel Against Complacency.

Cliché Living.


Doomsday and Fear.

Fight Against Bitterness.

Against Apathy.

Shame and Regret.

War Against Jealousy.

Against Competition and Strivings.

Gossip and Slander.

Pick a Fight…

Fight Boredom.

Triviality and Smallness.

Go to War…

War Against the Dark.

In the Deepest Chambers of Your Mind.

Fight the Good Fight. War a Good Warfare. Have a Rebellious Heart.