Fire for the Frozen Heart

By Pam Hadder

Winter and introspection go hand in hand - as a visual artist, I have often thought of the pure white snow as canvas; a place where blue and grey shadows create new images each day, shapes and patterns that dance, shift and inspire with the changing light.  This winter has been especially magical, but it is more than the beauty of winter that has me inspired!

I am blissfully "between opportunities" - my prior employment contract ended in mid-October, and I have been applying my energies to finding new employment and to expressive arts therapy studies (ExAT). You may wonder how can looking for work and studying be blissful?  Well, curiously enough, unemployment has been a great blessing in my life, and has opened doors of opportunity that were closed to me while I was working. The change has allowed personal time for me to reflect, envision, engage and learn, and to seriously consider my life passions. I am so grateful each morning when I awaken, and I find myself re-energized, curious, eager to embrace the day, and open to possibilities. I have also learned to graciously accept help. Fiercely independent and accustomed to filling my day in support of others, I have had to learn to take time for myself, my needs and my desires.  I have been deeply encouraged by the positive regard of others and their incredible generosity and kindness toward me.

The study of expressive arts therapy has some wonderful side effects - one of our professors, the amazing Dr. Kate Donohue, often says, "we are all wounded healers," and I just LOVE that statement.  Students of ExAT need to engage in self-reflection, and fine tune understanding of personal trauma and healing before extending healing modalities to others. Through engaging all of the senses, some amazing things begin to occur - personal transformation, including physical and emotional healing are typical byproducts for students of ExAT. There is also a natural extension of internal and external resourcing which unfolds in a unique way for each individual, at their time and pace, allowing for growth of personal resilience with increased awareness.

And to think that I almost did not enrol in the course - due to the extreme demands and low supports in my prior work life, I thought I would not be able to engage fully in the coursework. My enthusiasm for expressive arts' potential for helping others was not understood or appreciated by my employer - I was so excited by the neurobiological evidence, but had no receptive ears or hearts to receive the message.  Fortunately, two supportive friends encouraged me - although I was worried about being able to make ends meet and having enough time and energy for all of life's demands, I took a giant leap of faith, and  I nervously followed my muse. I have no regrets! I am thankful for those two friends that really saw my heart of hearts - those two who said, "You have to do this," "You would be so great at this!"

I have had a typical human life thus far - with my share of ups and downs. I acknowledge my privilege as a white, university educated, middle class North American woman of mixed European settler heritage. I never acknowledged my personal trauma, however. Most of us know what it is like to lose a loved one to accident, illness or violence. As women, we know what it means to be sexualized and marginalized, even in the most wealthy and privileged of world nations. Most of us deal with illness and injury - our own, and that of loved ones. And many of us have weathered less-than-ideal relationships, whether in the family home, in personal relationships, or in the workplace. 

However, through my engagement in the expressive arts as therapy, I soon understood that I had experienced both classic and complex trauma. From early childhood years, I had naturally gravitated toward music, writing, visual art and performance to understand, express and heal from life's woundings. I began to open my mind, body and spirit to the healing dynamic within the expressive arts, and to trust in my innate ability to both heal and to help others.  A further benefit of this learning process has been a surge in my own creative output - not for glory, fame, but for the pure delight, expression and wellness of my soul. Since October 2017 I have written five or six songs for guitar - an amount equal to my writing efforts of the last four years!  ExAT has not only helped me to feel better, but it has unleashed my creativity.

Expressive art therapy pioneer, Natalie Rogers, coined the term "creative connection" in the 1980s. Creative connection was Rogers' way to describe the productive synergies that result when moving between expressive arts modalities: music, movement, dance, vocalizing, visual art and the written word. Although, I have always been drawn to visual art, movement, music and creative writing, since enrolling in the ExAT program, I have experienced the power of the expressive arts like never before.  We often hear about music as the universal language, and that visual art can capture emotions, and we may feel a stirring in our hearts when we participate or witness any combination or single performance of expressive arts.  But we aren't typically encouraged to express by movement how we feel about a painting, or to vocalize how dance made us feel. Creative endeavors have been commodified, edified and placed on a lofty cultural pedestal accessible only by a elite few. Creative outputs are judged, critiqued and limitations and standards applied to exclude and to demean those who might venture beyond those structures. A rare few manage to avoid or break the bonds and succeed while being true to their spirit. Expressive Arts Therapy disrupts this falsehood - creativity is fundamental to every human being, and it is cross-cultural, it is how we communicate as humans, and it is what set us apart on the evolutionary journey.

And so, friends, this is where you find me - I am blissfully between opportunities - centred and joyful, perfectly imperfect, a life-long student of living.

Soul Food

By Pam Hadder

There is an interesting dichotomy surrounding our consumption – not just our daily bread, but all commodities we market.  We all seek to be the first horse out of the gate, to stay ahead of the curve, to remain relevant in a fast-paced environment increasingly viewed through the Vaseline-coated lens of technology.  But are we truly moving forward or are we just spinning the same old messages and information a higher speed and volume?  Are we demonstrating meaningful results or just clogging the environment with more content; more “stuff?” To me, it is a case of soul food versus fast food.

What immediately comes to mind when you hear about soul food?   Maybe it’s remembrances of the best meal ever, comfort foods, tastes of home; or cultural and community cuisine – soul food goes beyond just filling the belly; it creates connections, inspires and delights.  Compare this to fast food – it seems dim compared to all of the rich, complex and meaning-laden images we have about soul food.  Soul food is tied to deeply personal connections that withstand the whims and whirlwinds of the moment. So, can fast food be soul food?  It might package itself as soul food, it might capture some of the flavor and physical appeal of soul food, but the critical components are conspicuously absent: time, authenticity and meaningful personal connection.  Even more than the thoughts of Grandma’s or Mom’s family recipes, soul food is about that connection – interacting with others in memorable and satisfying ways versus split second visual interaction.  One does not equal the other.

It takes planning, careful selection of ingredients, and time to elevate a consumable product, service or concept to the status of soul food – it’s pretty easy to stave off hunger with a quick fix, but the moment is here and soon forgotten.  Tech marketers have skillfully convinced many of the value of fast food approaches – the offer is all the more alluring because of ease of access and perceived low cost.  Basically the human machine is pretty forgiving and can function with almost any kind of food, but science has proven we cannot live in good emotional and physical health without interpersonal contact and support.  Like others I rely upon technology to do my work and in my personal time, but whenever I am given the opportunity, I am working to establish more in-real-time and in-person connections and moments - I prefer the natural, the simple and the authentic, and I am opting to create meaning and lasting impact, and, where possible, to feed the soul.

Summer's End

By Pam Hadder

It’s that time – I can taste the change in the night air; the last precious days of summer. There is this soft haze that filters all of the harsh edges, the scent of ripening permeates yards and gardens, and the afternoon sun gently gilds our world in antique gold.  I feel such comfort and nostalgia in these last sweet days of summer; I think of my grandma, Suzanna, on her farm wearing an old cotton sheath dress and rubber boots. She was my Mother’s mother, and the mother of nine children.  She raised her children through the Great Depression and lived through two World Wars. She lost her husband to cancer when she still had young children at home and a farm to run.  Grandma’s life was not easy.

Mostly I saw Grandma in the summer months; we’d drive out to the country in the family station wagon. I remember so many simple things that are framed in summer’s sunny hues, including pumping water from the old farm well.  I loved the iron taste of that cold, fresh water.  Of course, there had been plumbing at her farm for decades, and the old farm house that housed a family of eleven, plus great-grandpa, had been dismantled, and a smaller home located on the homestead. 

When my Mom was a kid my grandparents raised their own beef and pork.  They had a few dairy cows and chickens – some layers and some roasters.  So not only did Grandma prepare thousands of hearty meals, she helped to raise the lion’s share of the meat and grew the majority of their produce.  Those were the days when rural families had summer kitchens – a place to prepare cooked meals that wouldn’t heat the main house, and provided some relief to the cook in the open air.  Today we are more likely to BBQ or use a microwave – or use the oven anyway, because we have air conditioning!

I often hear from my Mom how Grandma was a phenomenal cook and baker – but by the time I came along she didn’t do much of either – I am sure she exhausted her interest and energies raising a big family through challenging times.  However, I was delighted when she’d offer “store bought” cookies from a clear glass jar hand-painted with colourful fruit – this was a treat we seldom had at home, where my Mom made mostly everything from scratch.  We’d play cards, she’d give us kids money to go the corner store for candy; and she’d nap on the couch with its embroidered black velvet cushions, snoring like a chainsaw.  I recall the Vogue tobacco tin on her window sill and the ever-presence of stale smoke, but I never saw her light up or inhale, or roll up the next smoke. I was a very active, snoopy kid and Grandma would look at me with such warmth and gentleness with her jet-coloured eyes – she got a kick out of me.  I know Grandma was a strict parent, but she showed more tolerance with us kids; grandparenthood typically mellows the disciplinarians among us. I only recall Grandma being angry with me once – I was seven or eight and we were playing Crazy Eights at her tiny kitchen table; “You’re cheating, Grandma!”

My Grandma seemed so ancient to me and yet she was only in her early sixties when she died of bladder cancer – I was ten years old when she left us. My siblings and I used to call her the “old grandma” and our other grandmother in Montreal who wore tailored suits, and sent us sticker books and hand-knit woolens was the “nice grandma,” although we rarely saw her.  I wonder if our Mom heard our remarks and what she thought about it. I recall Old Grandma’s last months - In those days they wouldn’t let little kids into the hospital cancer wards. I remember waiting in the car while my Mom went in to visit Grandma.  Grandma passed away shortly after that visit and I never attended her funeral – my parents didn’t feel kids belonged at funerals, I guess. 

So it seemed to me that one day I was playing Crazy Eights with Grandma and the next she was gone. I have this photo of grandma holding me – she’s sitting on a white painted wooden chair. I love her horn-rimmed glasses and gingham dress.   And, yes, I still sleep in the same position: relaxed mountain climber, supported by "Grandma’s belly" (pillow and comforter surrogates).  Grandma is gazing off into the future; likely my snuggling and sleep-breathing is making her drowsy. Funny the things that stay with us – seemingly inconsequential, but profoundly shaping our perception and interaction.

Trajectories

By Pam Hadder

Sometimes you clearly see the changing path ahead – a hairpin curve on a rain-slick road, the plump kitten that chooses to flop down between your moving feet, or sudden wind and hail that rustles rosy fruit from the apple trees.  Timing varies, but in these instances there is clear cause and effect laid out for us within milliseconds: slow down, step with care, and harvest what you can while you still can.

At other times our actions and thoughts are circumvented by influences we did not foresee.  Sometimes the shift ingratiates itself so subtly, that we cannot logically trace the point at which we took an unplanned turn.  These changes can be incredibly complex, and they may grow or lay dormant for many years awaiting a certain stimulus to launch to the next step. 

Whether influences simmer or spring into full bloom, we may be shocked one day to realize that our opinions or interests differ vastly from a partner, family member, friend or group.  In reality the shift started a long time ago, and we attuned ourselves to different frequencies, initiating the transformation. Yet how often have you heard that cliché “we just grew apart?"

Even in sleep we are receiving, analyzing and responding to stimuli.  It makes me wonder about people who need complete silence and darkness to rest versus those that prefer a bit of background noise and light. I am also wondering if changing my sleeping environment could have shifted my personal trajectories.  Do we undervalue the influences bombarding our sleeping bodies? How much of us is shaped while we sleep?

Reflecting on these things, I am appreciative of how time continues to improve my editing – I am more selective of how I spend my time, more appreciative of simple things, and much more keenly aware of my vulnerabilities and strengths. Life is a beautiful symphony, layered with interpersonal, environmental and purely sensory experiences, meanings, and harmonies.  Incredible richness lies in the discovery, the surprises, and the unknowns that fuel our dreams and keep us engaged and curious. But all the while, we hit the brakes, dodge kittens and grab as many apples as we can before they hit the ground.

Old Windows

By Pam Hadder

Winter is hanging on - and I’ve been kicking myself for changing all but four windows in my little war-era home. Affectionately called “the sugar cube,” the house is modest but solid, with touches of character and craftsmanship that used to be basic, but are a lost art today.

A few years back, I received a performance bonus, and used it to change out aging windows in the sugar cube, musing happily about the improvements I’d see on my heating bills – all but a small-ish bathroom window, a mid-size kitchen window and two leaded glass piano windows with harlequin-suit-like diamond panes were removed and replace.  The old windows which remain are more predictable than the weather channel - you know it’s getting cold when they fog over, and eventually form icy glaze that can transform into elaborate Jack Frost works of art – unique crystalline patterns, feathering, swirling and spreading across the hyper-chilled surfaces; never two works the same.

My old windows made me recall my young self – perhaps seven or eight years old, coming into the back entrance of the family bungalow to change out sopping wet mitts bedazzled with confounding ice nubs, and warming frozen toes by the electric baseboard heater, before returning to the snow drifts, starry night sky and fort-building.  I was rather famous (in my mind!) for my snow fort construction, including manufacture of my weapons-of-choice: double-iced snow balls!  At all times, my army of one was ready to fight off the enemy.  Of course, my warrior fantasies were only acted out in my imagination, and the ammo was never used. The stockpile would freeze to the ground in a lumpy mass – no surprise that it was the last thing to melt in March, leaving a dead spot on the lawn that my parents attributed to the dog’s “business!”

I recall dreaming about being a princess, a Spanish dancer, a cow girl and other fanciful things while staring at the frost patterns on the back door glass; seeing fanciful shapes in the intriguing abstractions. Sometimes I would drag fingernails through the frost and contribute my interpretations to the surfaces; carving and tracing my visions.  I wonder how many kids still do this?  Have they even seen Jack Frost’s paintings? Could I sell admission tickets to the daycare kids across the lane?  I am doubly blessed – windows that predict the weather and which create artistic interpretations of winter schemes.

Ice in my Coffee

By Pam Hadder

PHOTO CREDIT: Bing Wright, Broken Mirrors series

Winter is closing in – arrow heads of geese soar skyward, directing their efforts south. Although it’s tempting to slip into denial when the midday sun warms my hair, the breeze on my bare face soon delivers a frigid wakeup call.  With each minute of daylight lost, I know I’m drawing on precious reserves from summer’s fiery bounty.  And yet last winter, amid the coldest winter on record in 125 years, I felt my heart surge with love – the colder it got, the hotter my fire burned. I can’t explain it in words and I haven’t reached a point where I can write music or capture those feelings with visual imagery, but it appears that after years of griping about the cold and snow, I have a developed an abiding passion for winter.

Exhaling into this chilly morning, I watch my frozen breath hovering in a free-form cloud around my head. For a brief moment it is like time stands still, and I witness my recent past expressed as a vapourous sculpture, which soon dissipates into the environment.  Like my frozen breath, human life is precious and yet insignificant in universal timelines. We emerge for a minuscule blip, and then are returned to the vast energized anonymity from which we emerged – reunited with a nebulous, ever-evolving, expanding life force.

I consider all that I know and love about winter – it is the blank canvas allowing for reflection and creative newness, it is the crisp jolt of air that challenges but affirms my stubborn resilience, and it is the stark beauty of branches against brilliant white snow drifts and deep blue skies.  Winter is dream time; rebuild and reset time – it is a time where we collect resources and review what to keep, what to give away, what to build, and we need to keep warm.  The cold requires us to move swiftly – to generate and sustain heat. We know from past experience that we do well to warm our core with comfort food and beverages. But most of all we need to keep the mind brightly lit with possibilities, using our ingenuity and stoking our personal fires to counter the sun’s waning favour.

Each year as the winter solstice approaches, I seek my New Year mantra.  Early winter marks the end of the incubation period, the third trimester – as such, I anticipate new life and I wonder, “What shall I name this new being, what will it look like, will I be equipped to attend to its needs?” What lessons and wisdom will come my way in the weeks ahead? In the past the mantras came to me unbidden; a gift from the cosmos landed with an unceremonious thunk on my unsuspecting consciousness! Typically the mantra took the form of a word or short phrase upon which I would reflect and then would seek deeper meaning and engagement. However, once I was attuned to this marvel, early winter became a time of anticipation and seeking – I was aware, so the delivery method was more subtle.  I was being encouraged to wake up and shift from patterns which did not hold meaning or value – the universe was making me work a little because I had the ability to do so.

Last year, however, the mantra process was exceedingly difficult – was the universe being fickle and withholding pearls of wisdom, or I was too distracted and desperate to see through the clutter? Had I lost my ability to discern subtlety? Or perhaps, I was being encouraged to seek, to move, to extend myself outward from this place of “me” of the personal mind?  Maybe I needed to understand my ability to flex muscle, to stretch, to discover and to prosper. I needed to break away from barriers that I feared, and in some cases, was so accustomed to that I could not see how they held me captive.

Nonetheless, the more earnestly I sought to connect, to forge, and to bond, the more disconnected I felt from that embrace.  At this point, I sometimes feel in tune with a joyous surge – I know there is more, and I know there is a reason for my insatiable striving, and everything seems possible, even easy. I have no fear or apprehension, just pensive, well-managed curiosity about the days to come and how I might prepare to receive understanding and to achieve the best results.

Recently, mentally and physically weary after a long working day, I tucked into my covers with Netflix, and I watched a 2011 documentary called “Happy.”  The film examines the roots of human happiness, interviewing researchers and examining cultures from around the world.  Happy asserts that happiness is 50% genetic-based, 10% environment-based and 40% action-based.  Additionally a number of key factors are known to affect our ability to be happy: supportive relationships (most commonly family and friends; community), and altruism (our ability to step outside of ourselves and care for others before our own needs). Additionally, there is a need for us to engage in those things that bring us joy and deep personal satisfaction – things that if we were not interrupted, we would continue to engage in for hours on end.  One researcher, pyschologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, has coined a term for this state: FLOW. I have purchased Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's books (Amazon) "Flow" and "Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention." These books aren't new - Csikszentmihalyi has been researching human happiness for decades and "Flow" was first printed back in 1990. However, I am eager to gain access to his findings and to incorporate that wisdom into my current engagements.

As I breathe in the warm air of this room, with diffused light flooding over my left shoulder, I suddenly know my mantra: it is simply, EXHALE. To exhale is to give over, to simultaneously connect and exchange energy physically and beyond the physical.  It means to empty the lungs of expended air, allowing for newness and ultimately for life. I understand that with newness the old must fall away - there are always choices and decisions that challenge and confound us. At this moment, I am enjoying one small breath: it flutters like a clumsy moth fumbling toward a soft light. I look out the window, and I sip the coffee that has grown cold.

Eyes On

By Pam Hadder

The eyes have it, eyes are the windows to the soul, keep your eyes on the prize, for your eyes only, eye spy, getting an eye full – there are so many eye-centric phrases within North American culture.  They roll off our tongues and into our communications without too much evaluation of true meaning or clarity.  A reality check may come our way when interacting with those to whom English is a second language.  Their refreshing perspectives can reveal that some of these glib phrases are filling space versus creating meaning or providing valid analogies. What are we really trying to say?

This summer, while visiting New Zealand, I was deeply engaged by encounters with Maori culture.  Traditional carvings similar to Canada’s west coast totems are inlaid with paua (pah-OO-ah) shell, and in particular the paua eyes of these majestic figures translate great energy and stimulate powerful responses.  The paua is incredibly beautiful – variegated blues, greens, purples and greys commonly intermingle.  Additionally, because of its smooth, reflective surface, the shell allows eyes to blaze in the sunshine and to emit an impressive glow in low light.  In Hamilton Gardens, Hamilton, New Zealand, I had the unique pleasure and honour to stand in a garden replicating a traditional Maori village. To be among these vibrant, powerful forms with dark storm clouds as a backdrop was breathtaking and deeply moving.

The traditional Maori carvings served to remind me that sometimes, visual media clearly communicates what our words cannot. Experiencing these incredible, significant cultural forms in person opens pathways allowing for additional layers of personal interpretation.  When defining learning within academic contexts, it is often described as "meaning making" – and it is known and understood that there are many access points to learning beyond written and oral communication; including via our encounters and interactions with visual forms.

Personally, the prominence of eyes and eye-centric phraseology in North American culture reminds me of the importance of observation and witness.  Modern use of eye-centred phrases and expressions, the focus on the eyes in creative expression and in marketing imagery mirrors the majestic forms created by ancestor cultures - we have followed the forms, but have we kept close contact with the meanings?  What if a bit more care was taken with our words and expression instead of recycling what we've heard before?  Why choose pat sayings and eschew possibilities for deeper personal connection and meaning?  Have we lost our ability to enjoy in-person human closeness and reverence, or can we shed the faceless mask of verbal oblivion and open our eyes to the possibilities of profound and personal communications?

Impressions

By Pam Hadder

How much do you care about what others think and/or say about you?  I am pleased to say that I am finally reaching a point where I recognize the need to remain steadfast amid the chatter and to follow my personal compass.  Another aspect of this, however, is that of impressions - not just what we call "first impressions" but all of the complex physical, temporal, and metaphysical bits we leave in our wake as we go about our daily lives!  These aspects I care deeply about; they are not petty or superficial and these intricate impressions bind us together with irrevocable subtlety. I fully recognize that I do not exist in isolation and that my actions, choices and words affect others, and as such I am humbled and honoured by the "every day," the simple interactions and experiences.  

Typically my summer allows me a bit of time for dreaming and connecting with the natural environment - just a week or two, brilliant and sweet and then it's gone; a glorious sun setting over a cold grey lake, my warm toes mourning the coolness of the sand. This summer my typical path was dealt an unexpected but truly spectacular twist!  For half of my summer I travelled to the southern hemisphere where it was "winter" - I say "winter" because it was so benign compared with the Canadian prairie winter I have lived with all of my life!   The destination was New Zealand where my business partner and I have been pursuing some investment opportunities; some good matches arose and the time to act was upon us.  And so I left summer for winter.

Our schedule was brisk but not insane - we took time to enjoy the natural, unspoiled beauty of NZ. It was a sensory feast and I am replaying vignettes in my mind as I write this - I hope the impressions I left were worthy because the Kiwis blessed me with a unique kaleidoscope of tastes, sights, insights, words, smells and experiences that is beyond measure. I can smell the briny air of the east coast; I am still in awe of the lush variety of trees, shrubs and flowers gracing the wild and garden landscapes, and I was inspired and humbled by the remarkable warmth and creative complexity of the Maori people. All the while I was conscious of consuming the beauty through all of my senses, and I imagined myself converting food, wine, sunshine, rain, vision, touch and scent into body cells so I could become a part of the wonderment, stealing a smidgen home in my flesh and bones. Looking back it was a profound physical journey of particular spiritual renewal. 

Impressions do matter - welcoming smiles, words of kindness, respect for nature and enjoyment of our time together; everyday, where ever life takes us. I hope my love remains where I leave it; I hope it binds, nourishes and grows.

Blue Tiger, Purple Moon

By Pam Hadder

Do you remember your dreams?  I find that if I consciously commit details to memory when I first awaken, they stay with me.  But most times I jump out of bed and rush into the various tasks necessary to tackle the working day – and the vivid images and experiences of my sleeping mind quickly vaporize like mist burning off in the sun.

I have heard a theory that when we sleep our soul is free to travel – that might explain why some mornings I feel like I have run three back-to-back marathons!  (I call those my “busy” dreams!) But aside from epic action and adventure scenarios, the most compelling dreams are those where I am given a gift – typically a creative idea or alternate viewpoint.  

Lately I have been taking these more seriously – I actually dreamed about a children’s book idea and title, for example – it was so realistic and specific that I could not brush it off.  When I awoke I recalled how Sir Paul McCartney once woke with a melody in his head.  He played it on the piano and eventually set lyrics to it.  But he wasn’t sure if the melody was unique, or if he was just playing some other composer’s work from memory.  He played the song for years, but just for those close to him – not in performance.  Finally he was satisfied that the melody was indeed his own!  This song became the mega hit, “Yesterday.”

Back to my dream book title - I researched it later in the same day.  There was another book similarly titled, but only ever so slightly.  Interestingly, the names of the book's characters also came to me in my dream, and these have been similarly noted for later use - I even saw the cover illustration; a finished book.  On a roll, I also researched a term that had come to me in an earlier dream – it had seemed like nonsense, but I began to wonder if it was from another language, and like Goldilocks I couldn't resist exploring.  I found a similar word that is the name of a Japanese manga character.  I’m not into heavy Japanese pop culture, so it’s unlikely that I would have encountered that name – so my mystery word has also been entered into my notes for future reference; unsolved but an item of interest. 

These are just two small examples of how our dreams can affect and inspire our waking lives.  Of course, most of us will not establish the global fame of Sir Paul, and we may not even aspire to attempt it. But we all have inborn potential and creativity – our dreams stimulate and inspire – in our dreams things can be both/and; we can work outside of the laws of physics, we can have  blue tigers, purple moons, and super-human abilities.  Thus, we expand beyond the common place, we defy the naysayers who have told us from childhood all of the things we cannot do or become. Dreams are a place to play, to discover, to test, to learn – we are truly “beautifully and fearfully made.” (The Holy Bible, Psalm 139:14)

I am also reminded of the 2006 documentary film “10 Questions for the Dalai Lama” where an American journalist travels for two years in India, patiently hoping to meet the Dalai Lama for a brief interview. Good fortune prevails, and the journalist is able to interview His Holiness. The Dalai Lama responds to one of the questions in a particularly unexpected manner – it is when he is asked what is the most important thing people can do to promote peace.  Without hesitation, His Holiness responds “critical thinking.”  This response showed great wisdom. Consider that with critical thinking, as with dreaming, we remove biases and boundaries; we examine, explore and compare with dispassionate objectivity. Critical thinking allows us to sift through filler and fodder to the crux of things – and what we typically find is commonality and also new discoveries; new ways of thinking, seeing and being. Perhaps our dream state is an inborn tool to nudge us toward a sublime state of enrichment and creative harmony?

Friends, the Emperor and Yoga

By Pam Hadder

I have decided to make a conscious effort to connect in real time with real folks – personally and professionally, every fibre of who I am is rejecting virtual falsehoods.   It’s like seeing someone you love eating crap, doing drugs or otherwise making unhealthy decisions – it’s a living lie and an overall “downer.” Don’t get me wrong – I love technology – I value and rely on the ease of applications and software to make my livelihood, and I have made a few meaningful personal and professional connections via social media and other online connections.  But let’s call the bluff – you know it’s true – you have to sift through a lot of detritus to find those diamonds in the dust! Time is precious, time is money, and I don’t want to pour out any more of my energy; nor do I wish to waste moments that could be funneled into real time, hands-on experiences – in my case, time outdoors, guitar/drums/dulcimer, fine art/painting/illustration, friends/family/loved ones.  

I am blessed to have full working use of my six senses, and I no longer want to limit their use to the virtual! Let me explain my path... when social media was gaining steam from a marketing perspective, I HAD to be engaged in it and  was obliged to try things – so that I could understand any benefits it could have for my clients.  To ignore the social media trend was like wearing an “I am old and obsolete” nametag!  So in short order my personal accounts became my guinea pigs, crash test dummies etc., and the rest is history!   Clients were insecure about being out of the loop (tech dinosaur syndrome) and had to have social media added to their websites – and in our industry (advertising and marketing), where insecurities are leveraged for gain, we were doubly doused in the frenzy – scrambling to understand, engage and stay ahead of the game.  And it is indeed a big game.

As I have stated, it has not been a complete loss, but I recognize that I am weary of the falsehood, I can’t play dumb, and thus the time has come for me to disassociate my vibrant, 3-D self from the virtual.  I am fully enjoying letting my feet feel the sensation of gravity: concrete, grass and earth; and real in-person human connection!  It reminds me of when I broke my leg in 1990 and how I felt when they took off the cast – scary but very real; magick! I should also point out that I was an “early bloomer” on Facebook.  We had a work group back in the day – three hundred of us found ourselves out of work when our employer sold the business and this “new, free networking thing” called Facebook was a way for us to share support, legal information, job leads etc.  So Facebook was my initiation into what was first called “new media” and which became “social media,” and it served the purpose.  So when social media started to push into the business realm, I was already familiar with it; it was “comfortable.”

Don’t get me wrong, I am not bailing on all of my “friends” and “followers” but I am disengaging from any falseness that I can detect.  Remember when it was all about the number of friends you had on Facebook?   Or can you remember the thrill of launching your first Twitter account, and within seconds you had new connections? Anyone could do it – even little kids could do it! It was a big ego gratifier and due to the ease of access it allowed many voiceless underdogs to shape a public persona that had power, esteem and meaning – virtually.  In my working context, social media was initially seen as a good “free” tool for all sizes and types of organizations to gain general awareness or for product and event-specific promotion.  I say “free” because marketers like myself soon caught on that there was a massive time investment with social media – content needed to be meaningful and you needed a lot of it.  Consider that the life of a tweet is (at best!) three hours, and you do the math from there!  Meaningful and relevant content that was also timely (i.e. strategic process) – this was and is seldom seen or achieved, and to date, no reputable academic studies have been able to prove that high numbers of followers, web site hits, etc. directly correlate to increased revenues for business.  Social media is making some people rich, but it’s not the business or personal account users, it is the developers who are raking in the cash!

To make matters worse, along the way people have lost their sense of reality, and along with it quality and integrity.  Because almost anyone can access the platforms, there has been overwhelming saturation of information and a dumbing down of quality. Therefore you will find that in the virtual world it’s quite easy to shape a persona or brand identity and make it look appealing and cool – but what is the real-time, in-person experience?  When you get to the nitty-gritty of things, is it just a virtual ego game, or does the person or the business have any real value? When was the last time you had really good after-care service? When was the last time someone really anticipated your needs and delivered on time?  When was the last time you felt that true warmth of connection?  The BIG factor, is that at some point, for legitimate personal and business pursuits, you need to connect in the realm of reality.

What makes or breaks your day?  Do you really care who unfollows you on Twitter or unfriends you on Facebook or what some random person says on your Instagram account?  Are you paying for groups of followers so that you look more appealing for “real” followers?  Do you waste aimless hours eating visual eye candy on Pinterest? Do you automate social media to free up valuable time?  Do you ever ask yourself – what the hell am I actually achieving?

Three final words:  friends, the emperor and yoga. 
1) FRIENDS:  my Dad, who was often disappointed by fickle, back-stabbing, small-minded colleagues (he worked for government – imagine your favourite Dilbert cartoon, complete with Pointy-Haired Boss) –  Dad always said if you were lucky you would have two or three true friends in your life.  You know the ones – you can call them anytime, ask them anything, they tell you they love you; they don’t try and change you – AND they build you up; they celebrate when you succeed!

2) THE EMPEROR:  have you ever read the story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes?” – if you haven’t you should.  It’s a kids’ story and the moral of the story is about deception – truth and reality.  Social media is our modern day “emperor’s new clothes!”   Once you get it, you can’t live the lie –even if everyone else is; you can’t un-see the truth, you can’t un-learn what you know is factual.

3) YOGA:  why this huge popularity with yoga these days? Based in traditional Ayurvedic medicine, yoga is about wellness of the body and mind – it requires real-time connection and physical and mental awareness.  Human minds and bodies are trying to disconnect from the false and reconnect to what matters.  It may not mean yoga for you, but it might. Over and Oooohhhmmmm ...

Goodbye False Icons!

By Pam Hadder

Today is an auspicious day. Rising from bed, swinging sleepy limbs out of cotton swathing to face another day, I am delighted to see the sun’s blush just meeting the horizon; we are in sync at last, without need of a jarring alarm – it’s a perfect beginning to the rest of my life.  Into the shower I trundle, happily soaping all those wonderful body parts:  silently thanking my feet, legs, arms, back, breasts, toes, fingers, ears – I am blessed to have a healthy body; thank you, thank you, thank you. 

No more judgment – not from me; never again - the world will judge my female form harshly, but I have chosen to be her one stalwart supporter.  When I emerge from my domestic cocoon and I must face the many false icons of Photoshopped “perfection” online, outdoors, in print – everywhere – and should I feel myself feeling diminished; fading, I will tap along the pathways my counselor has shown me – face, collar bone, ribs, hand; repeat.   Affirmations will flow from my lips like a bird song: “I am wise, I am healthy, I am enough, I am beautiful for who I am; I love and accept myself…”  

I will feel my heart maintain a slow confident beat, faithfully keeping time while I maneuver through the day’s obstacles and successes; I will draw air into lungs that infuse my whole being with vital oxygen, and when I eat I will refuel; energize – I will relish each bite: savoury, sweet, sour, salty. I will not count calories, or steps; nor will I ever use a scale.  I will not judge my worthiness by size, shape, how much or how little I eat – I will not see food as my enemy.  Food is there to nourish us, after all – so I will delight in having the good fortune to select from many fresh food options, and I will luxuriate in its beauty, sensuality and diversity, and in those special times I can share earth’s nutritional bounty with others.

It has taken decades for the child, then a young woman, then a mother to reach this place of feminine certitude – I am, I feel, I appreciate, I blossom, and I am eternal.  When the work day is done, I will stretch and smile, and seek recreation in the things that bring my body and mind healthy stimulation and inspiration: my art, my music, and leisurely time spent outdoors, or in silent reflection, writing, listening or resting. I do not need to justify my choices; I do not need to explain, but I must fully engage as only I can so that I can enjoy my personal potential.  If not today, then when?  We are only certain of this one breath, this one moment after all.

Back to my body – my good, beautiful, healthy body – I solemnly vow that I will honour her.  I will not wear tight polyester, I will not pound my bones against the hard road, I will not pant so hard I taste blood.  I will stand tall and gracefully walk at a pace that feels right in clothes that feel right, I will feel my heart beating strongly, I will enjoy the scents and sights around me; and I will connect with the people around me  with positive energy – when they smile, I will smile back.
  

Some very good women to heal you and inspire your journey:

Limon – http://limonfresh.ca/

Virgie Tovar – https://www.facebook.com/virgie.tovar.1/about