I was wandering over to Laurie's profile to leave a note on her grapevine when I was distracted by a link to a personality test. I just did a quiz for my daughter - and decided that it was sign for me to have a 'quiz' night, and took the Jung Typology Test here

My results were interesting! I will post them. I just remembered that a few days ago (maybe longer, I am not sure) I took a completely different personality test. The results always are fascinating....

Anyway, I am sharing my results here, so I have them recorded somewhere! Thank you Laurie for the nice distraction. Now I am going to go back and post on your grapevine!

Leigh-Anne
xo

Jung Typology Test:

Your Type is
INFJ
Introverted    Intuitive    Feeling    Judging
Strength of the preferences %
33    25    62    33

oh - the cool night air calls
as it holds the moon still in the pond
gently waving reflection
whispering the question that has no answer

sleeping blooms dressed in silver
lie silently in the garden
even the dew is cold against the skin
each step a reminder
of the warmth within

where does the face rest
when all the eyes want is to turn skyward
and drink in the light, the clear expanse of stars
until there is nothing left but to throw
the endless self into the darkness?

where does the reflection rest
when the moonlight is gone?
or the dew when the feet are just a step
in the softly crushed sweet grass?

where does the sky find the rest?

If not here in the small curve of the petal
or the sloping turn of the path

then where?

oh - the cool night air calls
calls in the song of knowing
and I, I am left with nothing else
but to follow.

~ la tyson

Right at this moment, the morning sunshine is pouring through my office window across my back and spilling across one part of my desk. I am listening to morning talk show radio hosts in the background as they banter about something. In front of me is a ripe yellow apple. It is a perfect colour right now, and begging to be eaten. I will eat after I finish writing. I am surrounded by photographs of my family. My daughters laughing into the lens, my mother, my brother and his family, my other brother, my nieces and nephews. On the shelf just above my desk a vase filled with rust coloured roses sits with a small statue of Buddha, Quan Yin and dragon statue sitting clustered at the foot of it. I can see a thank you card tucked in behind the vase. I had forgotten that I had put it there.

I looked out the window to the street below. The street is busy with morning traffic; people moving back and forth, going to work or coming home. A man walks by slowly, with his head down. The men are back to work on the entrance of the Buddhist temple just down the street. I can just see from the corner of my window, the tall Quan Yin statue bathed in sunlight, white and beautiful. The men are fixing the roof of the temple while the nun looks on. Soon she will return inside again to continue her prayers. The windows of the small apartment building directly across from my office window are dark. It won’t be long before the children who live there come out to play in the gravel laneway. I know this afternoon they will come and play in the Club and I will see them then too.

The sun is shifting slowly, making new lines on the desk, as I start to think about the work that is waiting at my elbow. I will be putting together a publication today, piece by piece, the story of the past year for the children and youth, their families and seniors who have come to the programs and activities here. I think about all of them, the staff and volunteers who are moving through the rooms and hallways below me (since I am on the top floor at the moment) and I cannot help but smile. We are like a big extended family here and we help each other out.

There is always a lot of beauty to be found in any ordinary day – especially here.

xo
la

New beginnings and the excitement and anticipation of the first day of school again. I had to bring in an old school picture to work for a display that is being done for the kids next week. This time of year reminds me of so many things - most of all new beginnings. I love that openess to learning something new. I see it in my own children as they are preparing to return next week.

love it :-)
xo
la

...been wandering again tonight... following whatever caught my eye. As usual, I was surprised, intrigued by what arrived on my screen. I found myself in  reading in the Integral Post-metaphysical Spirituality group long thread (Short Critique of a Brief History of Everything)  It was interesting to read the different viewpoints and opinions there. I am not sure I have anything to add - and didn't add anything to the thread itself. Sometimes, I find it is beautiful just to leave that kind of thing alone. If there is nothing to add, there is nothing to take away. I was deeply struck by the words shared, and appreciated the thought that has been going into the entire thread. I felt humbled reading.

Then, the wandering continued. I found an archive of threads, gathered beautifully in this group - Collective Wisdom - The Library of Community Threads - wow, another interesting project for a group to do, to compile threads posted on Gaia that were important, interesting to those in the group. I really like the concept of collecting wisdom - in fact, I do it already, I have a red box (well boxes) that I fill with wisdom that I come across. I nicknamed the box Dorothy. Just because.  I will definitely go back to the library and read more another night.

And then, the third place I found myself wandering into - took my breath away. I found myself in The Whole World Is Medicine. The latest post in this small group was on Sudden Awakenings and Koans with a link to this longer article. To be honest, I didn't make it past the enso painting. I was awestruck. Without any words, I was still. I love when that happens. So unexpected and beautiful. I sat literally for thirty minutes, just watching the sacred circle. I will go back and read the article tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to sit with the beauty of the painting.

Sometimes, there are no words, sometimes there many words, and sometimes all it takes is one stroke of the brush to make the world stand still.

xo
la

You know how sometimes, you just need to vent. It can be about anything – something sitting like a stone in the bottom of your gut, festering, rolling around, causing havoc and chaos. Instead of keeping it in, after a good old rant, and spew, you can let it go – whatever the ‘it’ might be. This is where I am at right now. Emotionally a bit raw, I have been brooding. I decided this morning that I needed to have a place to brood. I don’t have the luxury of doing a lot of brooding, because I am just too damn busy to let it overwhelm me for very long, but in an effort to find a healthy expression for my inner ranting goddess, I decided to create this, Vitrolic Word Vomit - A Sacred Place for Verbal Diarreah to spew.

Oh it’s empty now, and likely will remain so for some days, but as I move along, I have a feeling that I am going to need it. Need to be able to say – yes, this or that is total crap and I can’t believe it has happened. Of course, I will not use it to slander anyone, or bad mouth anyone – it’s not who I am to do that. I am not about blaming anyone – more likely to blame myself if anything.

So why share it? I can hear my own inner critic shouting hysterically - "OH MY GOD DON"T TELL ANYONE!"  Ranting should be done in private, unseen unheard blahblahblah whatever. The quiet voice beside the critic says go for it.  I will use this space to let rip over some things that have been niggling at me to the point of boiling over. I have a feeling, in the process of doing so, I will discover some interesting things about myself, and my inability to remain calm or understanding or as compassionate as I would like to be, though having said that, I believe that being compassionate does not always mean being ‘nice’. Sometimes there’s a need NOT to be nice, and to be firm, frank, blunt etc. I am not good at not being nice. It’s possible this is causing me ulcers. I don’t have ulcers, but I could. For sure, I am losing sleep over some things, and feeling rotten.

So – this note is more just to make mention of the fact that I am not coping well. I know I am not the only one – but the truth is, this is what I am feeling, and working through. In the end, maybe it won’t matter – I am hovering between being incensed and resigned. That I feel something indicates to me that I need to confront it, sit with it, and not run away from it.

*shakes fist*

ok. There you go. The quiet one is stretching the vocal cords.

xo

ps. I have to go back into the posts at Diving Deeper to find out who coined the term 'word vomit' because I cannot for the life of me remember who it was. I want to kiss them though for it. Bless you for the brilliant word combo - I sense some lotus are going to bloom out of the muck in my brain.

Ok... so I usually don't post free falls stories that I've written on my blog here. Not sure why exactly, shy I guess to share them beyond the workshop (Diving Deeper that is). Tonight, however, I feel like sharing. I learned the freefall method from my dear friend Sandra - one of the many things that I've learned from her. Simply put, freefall means putting your thoughts, doubts and inner critic away and leaping up, out and as deeply as you can into whatever comes up. No editing, just write for twenty minutes, and allow the words to flow. This method appeals to me on many levels, and I have been able to unleash quite a large amount of stories that had been until two years ago, tightly locked away. Anyway, enough chitchat.. here's the story. Keep in mind, it's a first draft, not edited at all, and far from being "polished". Maybe I should share more stories here - instead of just random thoughts, poetry and occasional rants. Not sure.

xo
la

whatever occurs - the brass lock.

Allie turned on the light, pushing the switch with one finger. The switch snapped and light erupted from the bare bulb hanging down in the center of the room. Water stained the ceiling  some time ago, leaving a mottled brown map to spread to one corner. The faded floral wallpaper peeled where the water had touched it. Piles of dust marked where the sofa once sat. Random debris from the previous owner sprawled carelessly outward. Strange, Allie thought as she stepped gingerly through the room, how the dust avoided falling outside the lines of the imaginary furniture. Tiny puffs of dust rose up as she walked to the kitchen. The wooden cupboards stood open, shelves empty. One of the doors hung precariously by one hinge over the sink. An old coffee can huddled in the corner of the top shelf. Allie made a mental note to retrieve it before she left. She continued to inspect the house, room by room. It had only been six months since Michael had died. He’d gone quickly. Everyone said it was a blessing that he did not suffer for long. Allie never understood why someone would say that in the first place. How was it a blessing to suffer at all, she often wondered.

When Allie heard the news that her brother had died, she didn’t cry, although a part of her had died with him that day. It was as though the ocean that moved inside of her suddenly dried up the moment she heard the news. He died on a Tuesday night, just after dinner time. Allie had felt it the moment he passed, not that it mattered. Michael left and Allie was left to clean up the mess. Allie started to climb the stairs to the second floor when something caught her eye. There was a strange little door that sat a few feet above the second step. The latch was worn to a shine. The key hole stared blankly back at Allie. She searched her pocket for the key ring that kept all of her brother’s keys. Allie look at them one by one, but none of the keys looked like they would fit in the tiny keyhole. She tucked the key ring back into her pocket. She turned around and looked up. There was a small lip where the wood that framed the door. Allie stood on her tip toes and reached with her fingers, searching tentatively across the top. She grunted with satisfaction. Her brother, at least, was a predictable man. She took down the little key and slid it into the lock. She turned it carefully. The well oiled lock mechanism clicked and then the door swung open easily. Allie looked in. The shelves of the little cupboard were empty. Disappointed, Allie continued to climb the stairs, leaving the door open.

The rooms on the second floor were just as bare as the first floor, except for the dust piles. Broken blinds covered the old windows. Allie wondered how her brother lived in the old house. She paused at the top of the steps again. He didn’t live, she thought, that was the problem. Allie took out her cell phone, and scrolled through her phone book. She touched the screen and held the phone up to her ear. She had a short conversation with the realtor. Allie had not found anything left behind after the movers had come in and taken what little was left of her brother’s belongings.

“Yes, tomorrow is fine. You can bring your people in to stage the house. The quicker we sell this old place, the better.” Allie said sullenly. She got the job of inspecting the house by default, Allie was the only one left who could do it. Allie and the realtor discussed some more details and then Allie put the phone back in her pocket and started down the stairs. She didn’t know the third step was broken under the carpet runner. She didn’t know until she stepped on it, and crashed into the wall. Allie bounced off the wall and into the railing. She tried desperately to grab at it to stop from falling all the way down, but she couldn’t. Allie tumbled head over heals and fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She lay perfectly still, not moving in the dim light. Allie groaned finally and tried to pull herself up to sit. She rubbed her shoulder. Her head pounded. Allie touched her forehead and took her hand away to see; blood. She struggled to stand, fighting a wave of dizziness. She needed to look in the mirror to see how badly she had been hurt. Her knee buckled and Allie reached wildly for the railing again.

“Oh God” she moaned. Allie didn’t know what it was that made her look up again. Something caught her attention, cutting through the pain. The door of the little cupboard swung back and forth on its hinges. Allie saw a strange light coming through the cracks in the wood behind the shelves.

“What the hell?” Allie said. She stood up slowly and leaned against the wall of the cupboard, peering closely at the small shelves. Blood was dripping into her one eye. She pushed the back of her hand to her forehead, brushing away the growing stream. Allie pushed the middle shelf with her other hand. It gave away easily, revealing a storage space behind it. Allie realized as the wood fell away, that the light was coming from a tiny light that was hung just above the opening. It had been turned on by the opening of the second door. Tucked within the cupboard were stacks of envelopes tied in red string. Allie reached for the closest pile and pulled it out carefully. The top letter was addressed to her. Stunned, Allie reached in again and pulled out another pile and then another. Every letter was addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. Allie’s head swam. Fighting to stay conscious, Allie braced herself against the wall and tried to pull out the last of the letters. Behind the letters were boxes. Allie wondered how much more there could be. She felt the relentless pull of darkness at her eyes, forcing her to kneel on the steps. Allie put her head down, pleading with herself. ‘Please, I need to know.” The string on the stack she was still holding suddenly broke, spilling the letters down the last steps to her feet. Allie grabbed at them frantically. She toppled once more to the base of the stairs, lost to the darkness.
 ~

This question is like a koan – similar to what is the sound of one hand clapping? Where? Good question. I have been finding myself lately wondering where the answers are. I am grappling with a couple of different major events in my life at the moment – and am for the most part, trying to sit quietly to wait until answers come. Today I am feeling a little keyed up and impatient, and sitting is difficult. This question is forcing me to sit though, and look at just where do I find my answers? I realize that some answers just come. Actually probably they all do. Most likely those answers that I have been ‘searching for’ – putting a lot of effort into finding – are the ones that once I let go of that need to search that suddenly arrive. Maybe I don’t really need to know where those answers come from. Quite frankly, I am just glad that they do come, even if I don’t like the answer. 

Could be that my sleep-deprived mind is having a bit of fun with me, but suddenly the question sounds like a young child asking a parent “Where do babies come from?”….

Maybe from the same place in the ether

:-)
la
xo

breathing.

It is interesting how this question has been theme for the past week – it came up here on a thread in One Light Many Windows, and in recent conversations with family members and friends. This is what I wrote into the response to the post that Hummingbird made about how forgiveness worked for us:

I'm glad I stumbled across this thread tonight… it is synchronous because earlier today I had an extensive conversation with my sister about forgiveness, and how deeply important it is to allow forgiveness to enter in, which lead to a deep discussion with my oldest daughter on the same subject.

I like this approach to the topic: “How it worked for me”… for me, forgiveness is the simplest and most direct way to resolving any situation, no matter how big or small. For me, forgiveness is the end of anger and the beginning of healing - a crucial step in the process of learning - specifically the learning I am meant to do in this life, as it was for all the lives before, and the lives to come. Anger, for me is like dumping boiling water into a fish pond - it kills everything. Forgiveness is the cool breeze that brings the iris down to the water surface for the fish to smell its fragrance. This isn't just a poetic metaphor for me - I make a point of seeing where I need to let the fish breathe and when the boiling water is set just too close to the edge. Forgiveness means moving forward in my life.

My sister said today that she wished that she could make someone forgive themselves - so that they could see the damage that their anger was doing to themselves.. but the truth is, we can't make someone else forgive. We simply can't eat the apple for someone else. They have to make that choice. My husband puts it beautifully in the talks that he gives to high school students … pain is inevitable, misery is a choice. For me, forgiveness is the transition from that inevitable pain to healing and harmony.

In thinking about it now - the thought rumbled through my head about the work involved in forgiveness… what work? You either forgive or you don't. there's no in between - at least there is no in between for me. If I haven't let go of the anger, the fear, or sadness that came out of certain situation - then I haven't truly forgiven. Then I am lying to myself - lying to those involved - and doing more damage to an already painful situation. Why would I do this? Instead, it's just better for me to forgive, let go and move forward. In the end, it's all part of my journey.

that's how it works for me.

~
Forgiveness is the sole reason that I have moved forward, learned from different situations, experiences, relationships. I have learned more about myself through forgiveness, and understood a little better what my place is in the universe… It has been on many occasions the single lifeline that I follow through each day. In the end, I would say that forgiveness has played a leading role. Right next to Loving.

xo
la

for quite awhile now, I've been writing micro-fiction (140 characters or less) which has been lovingly dubbed 'twiction'. I just heard/  read perhaps the best story in that micro form tonight - written by a friend of mine who goes by the name of bru_un. This is what he wrote:

She brought filters, one for each possible feeling exuded, a wooden box to sit on, and her dress was tainted with red mud. Then she waited..

~

I found it to be just perfect, a beautiful portrait that stood alone - it spoke so loudly to me. I honestly can't give words to the 'rest'. His words set my mind ablaze tonight.

for that I am deeply grateful.

:-)

la
xo

Well, the truth is, I have no idea – had no idea that is until I had a look at my blog from September 2008

I was just getting ready to publish my first book of photography, returning home from visiting one of my favourite people and places in the world, and preparing for the beginning of another school season for my daughters, and my husband.

How have things changed? How have they stayed the same….

Today – not much has changed, though since last year, this day fell on a Sunday, I was likely writing and working on the book. Today, I worked, and had to come home early because my daughter was feeling sick. I still managed to do some writing this afternoon, started a new story that feels like it is going to be quite big… it might not lead to an actual book, but well it sure feels like it could be. Instead of building a book, I am building a new photography website…  quietlaughter  Today, right now, I am here at the house with the girls, while my husband is on the road speaking to high school students – that hasn’t changed. I miss him.

Well – this is a very thought provoking question… even though the structure of my day one year ago hasn’t really changed in a year … a lot has changed, and continues to change. Now I am curious to know what was going on for me on this day two years ago…. I will let you know.

Xo
la

The day feels like
Crushed roses
Red and stained
Under the heel of some passerby

You turn in the wind
These days
Like a leaf falling
Perhaps too soon

The sun still measures
The autumn shadows
With warm long arms
While you go, here, there

I cannot follow
While you look
For a place for
Everything

You have forgotten
And remembered too late
Letting the moments fall
Crashing to the floor

When only a stain remains
Of the life we used to know
What is held next
For this worn and bruised heart?
~
la tyson

well - it's been a craptastic week... one thing after the other, and I came to a kind of breaking point. Not a serious kind just a oh my good god it's enough already kind of breaking point. I cried. I cried a lot, about a lot of different things. Needed to, I guess, but I didn't feel like I was controlling anything when it happened. Maybe that was the point. Anyway - it matters, and it doesn't. I generally am pretty optimistic - realist but optimistic. Every day I deal with alot of negativity - some to be expected, and genuine, some created and some just well stupid. Sometimes, I get caught in the negativity. This week has been like that. I started writing a bit about it - exploring the reasons and lessons... instinct kicked and said well, pay attention you doughnut, it will be important to. So I am.

On a whim, just now, I took a "silly" facebook quiz. I can't even remember the title of it, not that it matters. this was my result - which is interesting and resonates with me right now:

You are the Sun:

Psychological Meaning: The sun is a masculine symbol. It is the conscious mind and the intellect. It can be a symbol of the true self and may represent intelligence as distinct from intuition. A sunrise may indicate a new beginning whereas a sunset may show the ending of a phase. If the sun in your dream is scorching and hot, it may indicate that your intellectual powers are dominating the psyche and in danger of destroying your emotional life.

Mystical Meaning: Mankind’s first god was the sun. It drove away the darkness and with it the perils of the night. Invariably it has been considered a symbol of blessing. In the Tarot cards, the sun card represents joy and exuberance. Dream lore generally says the same: to dream of the sun promises happy times ahead.
~

Super.

My dreams this week have been anything but nice. Not even connected in an obvious way to the shenanigans of the days. Last night was the most upsetting series of dreams I've had in a long time. I was given a task - to search a room for items on a list that I was given. Others were there - given their own lists. I found everything on this list. That was the easy part. Then, the others, for whatever reason (didn't know in the dream) started trying to steal from me. I knew what they were trying to take - and I told them No (speaking of no days). The rest of the dream i spent trying to avoid having things taken. One item, very important it seemed though small - I actually had to hide from sight. Woke up feeling kind of grrr and wanting to be left the font alone. Didn't work out that way - couldn't. Had to work of course.

Everyone has days like these. It will pass, I know it will.

anyway, I am hoping tomorrow is a yes day. I am tired of the no's. really tired of them.

xo
la

ps just wanted to add that I nearly electrocuted myself just now, trying to unplug a fan in the kitchen. The cord was behind the microwave - a tea strainer fell down where the cord was - since it was loose from the socket, MAJOR sparks. luckily I wasn't holding the cord (or the strainer) at that moment. I was reaching for it. The strainer welded itself to the side of the micro. I think I am just going to sit quietly for the rest of the night and touch nothing. maybe not even safe to touch the pc. I don't know!

I am very proud of my dear friend Stu for starting this video journal of his journey over the next thirty days. I have known Stu for a very long time, almost fifteen years, and I know him for his humour, love of life and love for those around him. Last September he was diagnosed with MS and is beginning this 30 days of transformation to meet these health challenges head on. I hope that you will be inspired by his journey, I know I am.

Much love to you Stu, and thank you for just being you.

Day 1 video of my friends video journal. He makes me smile.

thought I would share the latest video from my hub's road trip from his blog. If the player doesn't work here, you can visit here - Ian's Videos

Yesterday I had the good fortune to go to Milton to watch my younger brother race for the first time at Kelso Conservation area. He was competing in the Storm the Ten Adventure race series. The concept of the race is to complete the course - 1.5 km paddle, 5 km run and 7.5 km mountain bike on the Escarpment as many laps as possible in 10 hours. My brother completed 6 laps. I am so incredibly proud of him. He is an amazing person - father of two beautiful children, husband to a beautiful woman, Nikki, and a constant inspiration to his sister. Oh, and he's over four years cancer free. He is also a wonderful poet - and I am very proud of him for that too. I learn from him every day.

You can read some of his writing here - Raw Howl.

xo
la