Dusk holds me
Like a breath
Shadows creep
Along paths and archways
Buddha reclines
In golden candlelight
I wait.
~

31.08.08
Leigh-Anne Tyson

late afternoon sung
in reflection
on the water and garden walls
in golden light mingling with the vines
and shimmering on candle glass window
illumine glow of the garden
dotted with flowers and lazy butterflies
ivy leans against the iron
patiently waiting to find root
in simple vases
leaf shadows waltz on the wall
as roses shyly open
in the mouth of crystal glass bowls
and angels watch from the corners
I sit quietly in this place
listening to the fountains tumble
singing gentle reminders of love
I finding myself thinking
candles stand just as quietly
Waiting to spring to life after the flame’s kiss
We are here together
angels and ivy
sunlight and gold spirals
shadows and roots
quiet candles and me
still
in this life
~

31.08.08
Leigh-Anne Tyson

Life can be pretty funny and strange sometimes - I can't say my life is exempt from any of the funny business, of course it isn't. I am back from my break - which after a whirlwind three days back to work at the end of last week (back to the moderate chaos that I left) i would like to have another break soon! I did have a very beautiful time lounging by my friend's pool, reading and writing in her garden...







it was definitely time well spent. I managed to rest, reconnect with one of my dearest friends, and reconnect with myself as well. I also managed to get my book - any ordinary day - prepped and proofed so that the book proof could be published.




I am not sure what I will do with it, if anything - but it was nice to put it together. I enjoyed the process, and have achieved one of my goals for this year. One step forward is good.

If you would like to have a look at it - you can preview the book on this site here

I am looking forward to the fall - it will be quieter in some ways, and in others, not so much, but whatever does arrive, I am looking forward to it.

xo
la

ack. This is such a good question, I am sweating just thinking about how to answer. For me, I do whatever needs to be done to let go. Is it difficult? oh yes. I am not very good at letting go of some things. I carry the world around in my heart, and feel heavy sometimes. I am a thinker and an over-thinker – there are some situations that grab me fully and I cannot let go easily. I meditate regularly – different forms of meditation, and that helps – looking at the situation from a different point of view sometimes helps  - doing something else (writing, reading, running, knitting, drawing, painting, sculpting, walking, whatever) sometimes helps. Not dwelling on the issue is helpfull. Of course, laughter is a great mechanism for easing the heart. Sometimes it seems impossible, but then, with a deep breath, the laughter arrives.

One of the keys to letting go for me is to understand the situation – not just my side but all sides, and usually that also involves forgiveness. Forgiveness is the perfect vehicle for letting go – especially when it is difficult to do so. I can be very demanding of myself, highly critical and when something goes sideways, I am quick to take responsibility. I struggle sometimes with failure – then forgiveness steps in, and I can let go of the situation, learn something from it, from the people involved, and move on. I don’t think that there is a formula that allows for a smooth and easy transition of letting go. In some ways, letting go is like giving birth – hurts like hell when you are in the moment but the result is new life.  I see it as an opportunity to grow and learn more about who I am.

Letting go makes room for healing.

xo
la

Autumn sun dances

Lotus bloom floats on water

One petal lets go

~

I have alot of family stories to draw from - which makes it difficult to choose just one. Not so long ago I wrote about some news that I learned about my grandparents here  I think though some of my fondest memories of my family were the stories that my grandfather shared. I remember stories of him working in the shanty, delivering cheese in Bearbrook, Ontario, and working in the mines in Sudbury. One of the funniest stories I remember is he told me about my father. One Saturday morning, my father was sprawled out, watching cartoons on television. He was maybe 8 or 9 years old at the time. My grandfather was a joker, loved to play pranks and jokes, and was always filled with laughter, even in the most difficult times. On that day, he came out of the kitchen, while his son was deeply engrossed in the televions, and slapped a cold pancake covered with corn syrup on the bottom of my father's barefoot. I can just picture my father's reaction, and I can still hear him laughing his deep laugh remembering what he did to his son. I will always remember that story, and laugh about it too.

Stories are a wonderful way to remember.


xo
la

 

Coincidently, I have been thinking a lot about letters lately - the topic is coming up repeatedly  in interesting places, which makes me think more about it of course. I have always loved to write letters - I often write long letters to a few close friends, and to my family, who is spread out all across the world at the moment.  He pointed out to me that my letters to him were like a conversation - that it felt as though I were sitting in the room talking to him not just him reading the letter that I had sent. He also pointed out to me that my letters were sometimes a conversation that I was having with myself - the ideas, thoughts etc that are top of mind, and that need to be articulated, witnessed and heard - not just by the person who the letter is to, but by me as well... to understand myself a little better. I often think back to eight years ago, before I had a computer and access to the internet, and how letters were the main, and in some cases only means of communicating with certain people in my life (and if I think about it, the main way that I used to communicate with myself). Recently, I set an exercise along these very lines for the Diving Deeper writing workshop and the writing as spiritual practise board. The exercise was simple - keeping in mind the idea that the letter can be a conversation with your higher self, write a letter to yourself or to your higher self  (or from your higher self, God, The Universe or whatever/ whoever inspires you) - just write whatever comes up. The idea for the exercise is to become open, go deeper into the idea of communication with yourself and the Self... This was the last letter that I wrote. A letter to God, from me.  The next day, by the way, I learned that I had to send in my laptop to be fixed, and spent the next week writing by hand again - continuing the letter....:-)

By just being me. The next meeting, the next moment is always the unknown. There was a time when I put a great deal of energy into preparing for the unknown… preparing for all of the ‘unknowns’. When I was a little girl, I grew up as a part of the Girl Guide movement (the comparable movement in the US was girls scouts) I was a brownie, a girl guide and a pathfinder. I learned a great deal by being part of this group – really it was the first exposure I had to the concept of preparedness. In fact, the motto was ‘be prepared’. I have dedicated myself to a certain extent to being prepared. I remember the anxiety of Y2K. I stocked the pantry with food and water – just in case. I have trained in a variety of wilderness and survival skills (not to mention emergency preparedness)  – just in case. I even taught (at one point) others how to survive in the wild – to live off the land if they were lost – how to assemble a tent if blindfolded – how to track the trail if necessary – I studied it, breathed it, taught it and lived i t - why? Because of the unknown.

 

I don’t remember the pivotal moment when I realized that – no matter what kind of preparation is done – there are moments that no amount of preparation is enough and it doesn’t change what is unknown. It wasn’t until I read the Three Pillars of Zen by Phillip Kapleau that the unknown staredt to become crystallized for me. The unknown is always a breath away… This is not to say that a degree of prep isn’t important (or prudent) where the unknown is concerned, but gee… panta rei…. Everything changes. Everything. So for me, the only necessary preparation for the unknown is the practise of flexibility and openness… whatever arrives, does.

 

xo

la