Welcome to My Reflective Practice
For as long as I can remember, I’ve turned to writing as a way to make sense of both the ordinary and the extraordinary moments of life. These pages hold years of letters, poems, and candid reflections; pieces of me working through love, loss, change, and possibility.
I invite you to explore, wander, and search for the words that resonate. May you find something here that meets you right where you are.
Say Yes
These are my girls, the ones who invite me and the ones that I invite – all of us up for a challenge, all of us in a habit of saying yes.
I found myself, beer in hand, staring at two naked women the other evening. A blank paper in front of me and charcoal in my hand my task was to capture their beauty with my amateur eye and unskilled hands. Together they posed: one, Amazonian in beauty, her curves defined by her strength, the other, softer but equally as beautiful. Their laughter added to their beauty and the joy of the evening.
Several times, as they stood still, I accidentally made eye contact with them. My eyes would drift up from their breasts and meet their eyes. My whole body would tense with the uncomfortableness of those moments - the moments that I was caught intensely gazing at their breasts, pubic hair, or the curve of their hips. I’d smile, awkwardly, and continue to capture their form on paper, focusing on the evening’s task.
I sat flanked by women who, like me, say yes to events such as this. These are my girls, the ones who invite me and the ones that I invite – all of us up for a challenge, all of us in a habit of saying yes. We say yes for the chance to exist, even for a night, outside of our comfort zones, in essence recapturing a piece of ourselves. It is in these moments that we can feel growth. It is with these women beside me that I remember who I was, who I aspire to be, who I am at the core.
So, for any women struggling to remember. You, yes you. It’s so simple. So very simple. Say yes. The more you say it and place yourself in the uncomfortable line of: What do I wear? Who’s going to be there? How late are we staying? and I’ve nothing interesting to say, the more offers will appear. Build back up your tribe of friends who ask and those who say yes when asked. Life happens here. Life happens when you say yes.
Oomph
Each first for him, a last for me
“Oomph”
That’s the sound I now make as I hoist my youngest to my hip. The realization that there is an expiry to perching him upon my hip hits hard today.
The youngest of four, the baby, grows before my eyes. Each first for him, a last for me. With each stage I feel both elation and grief – happy for the freedoms it provides but begging time to slow, ever so slightly, allowing me enough time to process and marvel at my baby, now a child.
I know it’ll be replaced by new, wonderful milestones but tonight I grieve the ease with which I used to pick him up, showing him what I’m cooking or carrying him up to bed, kissing his soft baby cheeks until he tells me to stop.
I will continue, as all mothers before me have done, to bend from the knees, hands tucked under his armpits, “oomph” escaping my mouth, to hoist my baby to my hip until I can no longer.
Today I feel it all; time ticking, my heart aching, and my hip burning.
Breathe In
Take a deep breath, so you might be able to blow out all 40 of those candles.
Before you blow out the candles, take a moment and breathe in.
Breathe in this house that we have made a home. Feel the energy of this place that we have created. A home where all are welcome, children laugh, and neighbours pop over. A home that hosts pot lucks, after school playdates, and family gatherings. Close your eyes and remember our basement apartment at 5thand Arbutus where our feet could touch the TV from our spot on the couch and the showerhead hung chest-high and rarely streamed warm water. Think of all of the tiny goals that you set and achieved between then and now. Marvel at how far we’ve come and then imagine how much farther we will go. The night is young, my love.
Breathe in these children who helped to decorate this cake. These children, half you and all of your methodical nature and half me with my fire. They are the perfect blend of the best of us. They sit around this pine table in anticipation. Their sweet voices sing to you. Smiling, they await their slice of cake. They hold their handmade cards in their tiny hands, busting to spoil you, their daddy, on this very special day. Your presence in both their lives and the moment is the most important thing you have ever given to them. Here they sit, wishing to repay you in their own way.
Breathe me in, Love. Here I sit, beside you - always beside you. Keep kissing me in the kitchen and holding my hand in the car. Spoil me and let me return the love. Plan the next goal with me and challenge me to be better for myself first. Watch the way I watch you when you tell a story, a joke, or play with our children. You are my favourite moving masterpiece. There is no where I would rather be than sitting next to you, at this pine table, eating this over-decorated cake.
Before you blow out the candles, take a moment and breathe in.
Take a deep breath, so you might be able to blow out all 40 of those candles.
Happy 40th Birthday to the love of my life.
There exists no one-woman show.
“If I could, I’d like just a minute longer with you. A minute longer to sit on that couch, to play this out, to understand why your laugh, your eyes, and the way you placed your hand on my arm have me spinning. The night is ending, but I’m still trying to figure out why I need more time with you.”
It’s a beautiful existence, jumping in with both feet.
Perhaps I didn’t need the book as much as I needed to remember who my people are.
Tackle the hard stuff
Move through it all with kindness
Sadness and kindness
It’s possible to be both sad and kind
To lament on the way it was
While rejoicing in all that remains
I had no idea why I was in there. I just knew that it felt safe. Smaller. Or maybe it was because I felt larger.
The green sea glass is my favourite, and, even though it’s simply the remnants of Heineken bottle, we act like it’s a rare jewel, because you never know.
You scan the faces waiting for you; family, friends, and lovers all gone long before. You tell them to wait, finding the smallest one, wrapping your warm arms around her and ushering her back through to me.
Number lines are stupid and cross-multiplication is bomb. Keep that knowledge to yourself and in September do it whatever way your teacher asks for you to do it.
I don’t know who it was for, the display of anger, because it was never put on for others. I guess, in effect, It was just for me. Look at this, look at how broken you are. Fucking clean it up.
Each year my children’s’ eyes become wider and more skilled at interpretation, for every year that I age, they do too.
Sometimes there is value in letting you vent, feel powerful, and moving forward. You’re fucking welcome.
That echo can forever live in the darkness; some messages were never intended to be received, the delay too great.
In that exhale, the feeling of defeat escaped with it - a breathy fuuuuuuuck of sorts.
These pieces, I tear off willingly, proudly, defining myself by the beauty of my imperfect and exhausted soul.
A long time ago, we would meet halfway, feet on the earth, shoes in hand, and walk together.
It’s been a minute.
Too many options can create confusion, the freezer is simply a microcosm of our larger society in all of its excess and waste.
I needed to fill some time as I watched the ambulance’s GPS tick, tick, tick along my computer screen, towards her residence.
But a little man? Where would I place my focus? How could I guarantee to bring out the good man that lies inside of this tiny human?