Bright Star

By Pam Hadder

A few days ago I said goodbye to you, my friend, after your eighteen month battle with cancer.  Although I knew you were very sick, I always thought you would make it –any other outcome seemed implausible.  You were so full of potential, spontaneity, intelligence, creativity and humour – to consider a world without you in it was like imagining a dystopian future for the planet; surely this dark oblivion would never come to pass.

I should mention that my work has been extraordinarily stressful and all-consuming – it is a complex mess that keeps on surprising me with its ability to fester and grow roots.  No matter how deftly I apply myself, the mountain of work just grows; each superficial success revealing new decay beneath the surface, and unimaginable human cruelty and spite.  I sleep with my phone by my head, and I watch in semi-paralytic limbo, as the boundaries between work and personal time become indistinct, like waves washing away words etched on the shoreline. 

Yesterday I came across anther tribute video made in your honour.  This one takes the form of an interview, and between head and shoulders shots, the creator pans closely over your fair skin, dappled with blond freckles, like sunlight piercing through foliage to cast soft-edged patterns.  The effect is so intimate and yet respectful; it captures the essence of your gentleness, youthfulness, and irrepressible sense of whimsy. I feel your warmth – I feel like you are right here in the room with me.

 At the time of these interviews, you had accepted death, and were determined to make the passing from life to afterlife a celebration versus a tragedy.  Watching it, I realized my life was like the reverse of your white flame – although blessed by good health and opportunity, I am transfixed and immobilized in a state of mournful disillusionment.  I often feel like my life is one of those torturous dreams where mundane, infuriating elements loop and overlap in a bizarre blandness that can only be the definition of a living hell, and I long to wake up and know it was just confused conjuring of my resting brain. Then, across the membrane of time and space and impossibility, I hear your advice for life in my ear: “Wear lipstick and expensive perfume.”  And I remember your fashion advice: “Everything goes with everything.” And I hear your raucous laughter, and the pop of a champagne cork midweek and midday.  “I love you,” you offer with a bright smile.  And, oh my God, I feel like that last person to get the memo; I finally get it – the window is crystal clear and the morbidity has lifted. You were trying so hard for so many months to get through to all of us – so many just like me, living the zombie life like we have no expiration date – and I wanted to reel you back, shush the “negativity” and to beg you to choose life.  But I now recognize that it was you who chose life, and it is I who has chosen death – a dire extended death state of my own creation, versus the full-frontal connection of eternal life in motion.

  

Sweet beautiful friend – I love you and miss you in this space and time.  I am so grateful that I witnessed your brilliant comet, blazing across the dark sky.  I needed to be shown what matters, and I needed a kick in the ass so that I might hope to live with authenticity and fire and audacity.  When this body loses its war with time and genetics, I will endeavor to burn fiercely; illuminating the path for those who have become mired in shadows.  Your approach to death and dying has made me realize that I am witnessing the slow unraveling of my joy; the erosion of my life force.  You, on the other hand, were a supernova, burning at maximum strength, uncompromising in your demands, and unwilling to allow a petty detail such as terminal cancer to dilute your brilliance. You lived large – you were brazen and brave, and it scared me much of the time.

Dearest one, you have taught me that there are worse fates than death and dying – it is far more tragic to live in fear, denial and paralysis. All we have to do is shine. In the video you talk about your dream of having another life; one that lasted only a few hours – if I consider my years, I am sure my reflection back upon them would  fill less time than that.  Thank you, bright star, it is time to up my game – “just live a glamorous life...”

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

So Many Reasons

By Pam Hadder

What is it about certain numbers – why do we find some numbers to be significant, and we allow others to escape our notice?  A 25^th anniversary, the seven-year itch, five-year plans –and what of lucky numbers?  Personally I don’t believe in luck; nor do I support the celebration of life in pre-determined, generic increments.  All we have is this moment, this breath, this heartbeat, and why shouldn't every action and word be considered through that lens of precarious glory?

We are beautifully and remarkably made, we have such amazing potential – we are each comprised of incredible, immortal energy captured for a fleeting moment in human form.  It is a very big deal; exceptional and precious – yet all the while, we are herded, prodded into preoccupations of daily survival, of the mundane, of the expected.  We become disconnected from our glorious nature; our inextricable connection to the divine; the sublime.

This year a beloved, influential person in my life is having a "milestone birthday," which has made me think long and hard about human preoccupation with numbers, the order of things, labeling, organizing, and other trivial categorizations of splendid human potential.   My beautiful friend is having mixed feelings about the pending occasion, and doesn't want any fuss.  I get that, however, I want to celebrate the moment to its fullest extent – not because I am bound to tradition or societal expectations, but because I recognize and wish to acknowledge the importance of her unique spirit’s arrival in this physical realm. On a spring day, a number of years past, she was born into this life and embarked on a journey that eventually intersected with (and super-charged!) my own modest meanderings.  By her unique influence, she has made my life richer, brighter, more beautiful and deeply joyous – she is richly blessed with wisdom, humour, spontaneity, passion for life and charismatic presence. She possesses an intriguing, intoxicating effervescence that cannot be cultivated, but she presents these extraordinary gifts with remarkable humility and selflessness.

And so, dearest FC, for you alone – if numbers must prevail and hold significance – then let it be that with each passing minute, hour, week, month and year, that we recognize another aspect of our earthly self that is to be honoured and cherished.  I know it’s pretty easy to think of thirty or forty reasons that I adore you, my dearest, sweet, kind friend!

Four Strings

When most people think of banjo and they think BLUEGRASS - well there's much more to it. Until the electric guitar became such a big part of ensemble music, the four-string tenor banjo's rich tones were integral to jazz music.

My thrill of the week (maybe the month, the year???) was having my friend un-case her banjo (yes, four-string tenor) yesterday and play a few licks. Ain't She Sweet and Bye Bye Blues - sweet indeed and blue no longer - OMG!

The kicker... I got to add a little paint to her 70s banjo case - complete with Hang Ten style feet and daisies, I kept her young girl art intact and touched up a bit of the colour, adding in a few more flowers. Love when music, art and summer all meld together - heaven piercing thru the mundane day to let us know what really matters xo! BTW... Photos are details of a visual journal portrait I did for The Bird - play on, Girl, your talent is a spectacular gift.

Red, White, Green

Last March I was travelling through Tuscany with my son and my best friend - it was Spring Break for my little guy, and we all had an amazing adventure. This year, I am sticking close to home, but Italy has been on my mind! I used to really hate March because, not only is the weather miserable and fickle (is spring coming or not???), but I also lost my Father (1999) and my niece (2004) in March, so there was always this association with loss, grief and emptiness. Having visited Toscana and experienced the warmth of the people, the surreal beauty of the landscape and unmatched flavours, textures and colours that only that region can provide, I am finding that my memories of that magical time have cancelled out the muddy, cold patch that was my March experience.

Breathing the cool air and face to the sunshine, I recall my bare feet on the terra cotta floors of our villa, making Cafe Vergnano in the little kitchen that opened to a private terrace. The succulent blood oranges, dreamy yogurt, incredible prosciutto and cheese, and just the scent of the air -- I can replay the experience with complete, vivid recall.

I feel fortunate to have experienced such beauty and goodness, and that my son also enjoyed and remembers fondly our time together in Italy. It is such a gift to have memories of sorrow replaced by ones of creativity, engagement of the six senses and rejuvenation of the spirit.

Until we can return, Toscana, I will recreate little pieces of you in my daily life: wrapped in my moss-green cashmere cape, walking in the sunshine and cool air, and looking for beauty in the ordinary things around me.