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...”

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.

Seeing Spots

By Pam Hadder

It's that time of the year - winter is encroaching, cramping my style. I feel myself fading and drifting off, like a dry leaf on a river current.

I came across this vintage photo online this week, and was entranced.  The glamorous woman with a pet cheetah - over-the-top, curious...staged for a vintage ad, or real??? Imagine the folly, the sheer irresponsibility of keeping this magnificent cat as an urban "pet" - crazy stuff.  So why did this image draw me in? It had such strong appeal and I wondered why.  The more I thought about it, I realized that I saw myself reflected in both the woman and the tethered cheetah.  

Like that poor cat, these days I feel trapped by circumstance and the weather. I want to get loose and run for the hills - warm hills, that is!  And like the woman in this photo, I find myself zoning out, shopping, tidying, arranging, procrastinating - disconnected and dreaming of the summer months that seem too far away; will they ever arrive? Escapism, internalized emotion, longing for a different reality. It's too quiet, too claustrophobic and I want to scream at the top of my lungs just to know that I still have a voice and some passion - a wild feline yowl complete with flashing green eyes and bristling fur! I wonder how that spectacular tantrum would go over in most spaces? Likely not too terribly well, but it makes me smile inside to think about it (see, there I go again, hiding out within - a sullen child making a blanket fort with clothes and furniture).

One positive sign - albeit rather surreal, considering the raw, face-ripping temperatures... I saw a robin at the university this week.  I honestly had to do a double take.  It was Valentine's Day, and I joked with the dude sitting beside me that perhaps it was a sparrow wearing red for his sweetheart :) 

It's great that I have my coursework to push my mind and energies outside of its selfish, snow-drifted, ice-packed February pathways. It forces me to generate a little friction with my mental muscle when all I want to do is pack it in, cover myself in polar fleece and bed clothes and hunker indoors until it is spring.

Today when I played guitar, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift forward into the future. I just enjoyed the sound of my instrument and the way the strings felt as I plucked, strummed, cajoled - and suddenly there it was, a cool breeze swirling around my bare feet. I could hear the wind chimes wildly clanging outside on the patio - was that the smell of hail in the air; a spring storm?

No, it was too cold - frigid, meat locker-esque; I felt my sad little dream bubble burst.  I placed Pearl carefully on her stand and followed the cold trail, wishing I'd put on my moccasins.  Had the blizzard ripped the roof off my little house?  

Aha...mystery solved... my son left his bedroom window open!  OMG... with -30 Celsius temperatures and howling winds - he opened his bedroom window wide, and went outside to play with his pals.

Tonight when I am burrito-wrapped in my heated bed, perhaps I will dream of the cheetah. I'll break free of my leash and run in sun-burnished fields, pausing to lap sweet water from glassy pools, and soaking up the natural glory of the day. 

A Full Moon

By Pam Hadder

The moon was full a few nights ago - I was driving down the highway and it lay ahead of me, resting on the dusky horizon like an immense, glowing, orange egg.  Gazing at it with wonder and humility, and feeling particularly small and yet honored by this audience, I half-expected something supernatural to happen - like a giant cosmic butterfly emerging from that glorious pod, or a crackling of meteorite fireworks across the sky vault!  That spectacular sight has defined my final hours of 2012 - I am thankful that I can replay the video clip in my mind, because my iPhone camera certainly had no hope of capturing the moon's incredible beauty.  I didn't even try - it was crazy, amazing; gorgeous - a living dream.

The moon was still large and silver-bright this morning when my dual-alarms woke me from a heavy sleep - albeit with some wear on her right cheek, like some amorous giant besmirched  her flawless beauty with clumsy maneuvering.  In the midst of great busy-ness and commotion that makes up a typical day, I have been meditating upon that great and glorious pearl in the sky and wondering about 2013 and what this new year will bring.

Typically, as the year wraps up, a word comes to me that serves as my guide, my mantra, my focus for the year ahead.  This year has been so full, so over-run with words, emotion, art, activity, and I find myself serene, hovering in the centre of a maelstrom, but without a word of my own.  Perhaps the message is in the sky, in the moon, in her strength and unparalleled beauty. She who we take for granted, grows full, wanes and rises anew with new brilliance - She who pulls the great oceans of the Earth, mastering the tides and affecting the patterns of life.

Ah, there it is - the word, hidden in the shadow of a moonbeam - ATTUNEMENT. The meaning is immediately understood.  Attunement is about stopping to break away from man-made patterns and connecting to the natural rhythmic ways which we take for granted but which are essential to our lives.

Here at midday, I feel the cool white slip of the moon across my skin; up my shoulder, to my face - the gentle, guiding touch of a Mother's soft hand.  She is affirming my choice as I look skyward to the arrival of the new year.

Flying!

Feels so damn good to commit words to a page simply for the love of expression, connection and sharing!  


Winter was a blur - business, academic, and personal demands: the overwhelming vibe was one of being slightly sedated and rolling awkwardly in slo mo, head over heels; mouth agape in wonder -- except for those powerful earth-bound moments when I was able to touch and be touched, to smile into the eyes of an understanding soul, and to explore the ephemeral continent of the spirit we call creativity. My champions, my angels -- gratitude is too small a word to capture your influence!


And quite frankly... well I wouldn't change a thing -- it was time for the push, it was time for pressure.  Sedated, rolling, floating -- whatever!  I survived, I am surviving; I have arrived and I am arriving. 


Life, like live music, occurs in real time - there is no opportunity to roll back and edit. It requires acceptance, but also provides the extraordinary boundless vista for us to create, establish; to thrive on our optimal terms. Like it or not, we are all flying by the seat of our pants, doing the best we can in this one moment we are given, and if we are lucky (or perhaps not lucky???), we will be renewed to experience another moment, and another.


I am officially taking the summer "off" from my studies (I have this in quotes, because, my ever-curious mind is never off duty!), but I am excited to have the privilege to focus on my physical health goals and also on my love of music. 

And oh, those rows of new canvasses stacked up at the studio...  I am painting them in my mind - plotting, assessing; loving their infantile purity; metaphysical secrets are hovering above their stark surfaces like wind over the grass, and will be realized in paint when the moment is right.

Tough Choices

By Pam Hadder
Choice - it is a word brimming with tension, controversy and optimistic anticipation. It makes our heart perk up a bit when we are given a choice, but the initial excitement can be dampened by "what if." What if we choose this over that; what if we make the wrong choice?


Each choice "cocktail" is hounded by potentially nasty chaser words like commitment and regret, often because we tend to weigh and measure our choices using systems owned by other people in our lives - both intimate personal connections and more distant, societal ties. Choice can mean freedom and affirmation of our dearest life values, or it can be muddied by the recriminations and disapproval of others who may not support our selections.


We've all heard those words, "Choose wisely!" And for those of you with families, you may have employed the choice trap with your kids - that is, offering up two or more choices to your little ones, with the clever trick being that all choices align with your parental master plan! So, let's face it, choosing is fraught with pot holes and petunias - an exasperating, joyful tug of war with fear and glory!


But we still all make choices every day - the little ones that seem inconsequential, and the big ones that we may have stewed over for days, months or years before finally succumbing - too often, out of pure exhaustion. So how can be offload the garbage, the guilt, the doubt and simply enjoy the freedom of having options in life?


Choose for YOU - trust your heart; your instinct. At the end of the day, all you have is you. The only action you can truly control is your own. Choose for you, and every choice will impart personal harmony and, over time, wisdom.

Settling...

Settling - it can mean a gradual, undramatic coming to position, like dust gently travelling down a beam of light. It can also mean accepting less than what you

really want, and it can mean to find your place in a comfortable, harmonious way: like a "settling in for a long winter's nap" kind of goodness! As I juggle various interests, passions, demands, dreams, aspirations and possibilities all within the daily time constraints, I find myself considering and re-considering the idea of settling.

Yesterday, I had one of those red letter energy days, but with a difference - I felt like the day was driving me, versus me being the master of the golden chariot! It was a double birthday in my home - my oldest daughter and her daddy share the same birth date. And birthdays for my kids mean Belgian waffles with whipped cream and fruit, and some other traditions, such as a pot latch of presents and a family dinner. All good stuff, but at 4:30 p.m., I was dressed for dinner at a local restaurant and suddenly it hit me - game over.

I felt this general unease envelop me, a low level anxiety and feeling of malaise that I could not quite pin point, nor fully analyze. "Am I dying? Is this it? What should I do? What if I drop in front of my eleven-year old son who worships his Mumma?" There was some intermittent pain, in my diaphragm and to the right side of my upper rib cage, and a weird sensation in my left ear - a slight buzz, maybe?

Regret over missed work outs and junk food forays came to mind next, in those brief moments where I tried to feel my heart through my sweater and evaluate if my breathing was normal - why couldn't I always make the right choice, the perfect choice? Maybe I deserve to die. Was this what indigestion feels like - like a big air bubble in your heart that could pop at any minute? Or is this what it feels like to expire, heart stuttering to an exhausted stop, without fulfilling your destiny? OR... is this uninspiring, mediocre life exit in itself - is THIS the lesson?

Well, it appears that whatever that was, I am here - likely an anxiety attack, launched from within without conscious awareness of the onset or possible triggers. It was another silent battle that I fought and won (for the moment) while life's festivities carried on, Mardi Gras style.

And what comes next? Settling. Settling into a place of comfort, harmony and purpose - settling with action in place to carry me forward. Painting, writing, music, laughter, art, people, animals, nature, food, and love, love, love, love, LOVE. All worthy of living for, all worthy of settling into.

Red Letter Days!

Thinking back over 2011 this morning - enjoying looking over some photos. These images represent a few highlights of a very full, very productive year.

Late in 2010, my New Year muse, my inspiration came to me, and the word was EMERGENCE. I wasn't sure of what that meant for me, but I do recall this bubbling-up feeling in my heart - something wonderful was brewing

As I think about all of those red letter days of 2011, I am wondering what 2012 will inspire, where I will be, who I will meet and so on. Many thoughts and words have fluttered past my frame of interest in the past few weeks, but nothing seems to "stick" or resonate with me. There is, however, this internal tug-of-war with anticipation and temperance -no doubt about it, the future is tantalizing and teasing me! Patience, I must be reminded, is my hidden talent!

Red letter moments in 2011? There were so many: watching my kids grow and achieve so many wonderful things; sharing San Fransisco adventures and the blue skies over the ocean at Monterey; perfect weather all summer long, two live performances of kd lang (awright!!!), my new guitar (love you, Pearl!), returning to university, time with friends, and so much more! All the while, it's been fast, furious and frenzied, but with an underlying sense of purpose - like a supernatural booster pack was stapped to my soul to blast me to the next level!

What's next? Bring it on!

Transforming Transformation

Early morning lends itself to intropsection and reflection. On this particularly peaceful morning, I am thinking back upon 2011, and I am feeling especially grateful for the many experiences enjoyed and lessons learned.

Some times in our lives are just so full - the content forming, contantly changing and billowing over, faster than we can take it all in! It takes tremendous focus and energy to grab onto what we can and really be present in a particular experience or situation.

If, like me, you have many personal and business interests and many competing demands upon your allotment of daily hours, you will appreciate the angst that can brew to the surface during these highly productive, fast-paced life moments.

Every year, a word comes to me as the old year wanes away - for 2011 the word was EMERGENCE. What was I emerging from? From time to time throughout the year, I was doubtful of my muse! However, as events and opportunities and disappointments all unfolded, I began to see that I was emerging from self-doubt and inertia and reconnecting with my truest self and her dreams. The result, as I look back, is a remarkable free-flowing creation that is my unique interface with this lifetime.

So, on the cusp of a new year, I eagerly await the next gentle nudge that the from the universe - I feel so fortunate and so joyful. I know she will not disappoint me, if I only attune myself to her cues.

Hard 2 Love

Admit it, we all know them - those folks that make us feel like a cat having its coat stroked in the wrong direction. At best, we can accept we are just on a different page, and at worst we want to scream and rush from the room... or jump from a moving vehicle!

When I was ten or eleven years old, a woman from my church told me that "...some people are just hard to love!" I recall how I groaned inside, and thought, "Good grief - beam me up Scottie!" But recently, frustrated by general rudeness and self-centredness around me, I remembered her words.

A light turned on inside of me - not a brilliant starburst, just a dull glow, like a kid's comforting night light :) But I got it - or at least I was able to recall her message, and I found something that I could both live with, and live within!

Those hard to love people... they are missing something that we have an ability to share with them, and they need our love more than they know or can appreciate. Think of it like a vitamin deficiency - if it is serious enough, a doctor will recommend a treatment plan; perhaps injections, or high doses of pharmaceutical grade supplements.

We should give our goodness and our love freely and without discrimination, not because we will feel better, and not so that we will be rewarded in any way - and it won't necessarily make us like those hard to love folks more! We should give with love because we have been blessed with the ability and means to do so, just like a Doctor has the training and ability to facilitate physical healing.

Also, I am wondering if when I feel that revulsion and resistance with others, if I have crossed over to some awkward state where human contact is repugnant, or worse yet, where others find me unworthy of kindness and consideration.

Deep thoughts on a dark and rainy night...it appears that I have my work cut out for me!

To Thine Own Self

The past two years have been very hectic - not without joy, delight or accomplishment, but with little room just to be, just to exist. I think creative folks just need that down time - the mind and body seldom rest from purposeful processes and analyses.

My Mom used to say that once you have kids the fast forward switch goes on - one day you look in the mirror and the lines and grey hairs are there and you just think, what the...???

I often wonder if there is something scientific behind my Mom's prediction ? As my kids grow and become increasingly independent, I keep expecting to be able to draw on a little more of that precious life-affirming juice, aka "down-time", but it seems like the reverse is true! Am I overly conscientious? Do I need to be more assertive at home and in the work world? Where is the time going (really; truly) - I feel too busy, to involved to really take stock and the self-bank of me-ness is running low and lower!

Recently, I asked a group of adult learners to list their top ten strengths - referring, of course, to personal attributes that they could draw upon for the creation of a resume and during job interviews. Most could only list three to five, and this dismal response and disconnection from self awareness and potential was just so discouraging. Then I remembered a pearl of wisdom I once heard - that we are frustrated most by shortcomings we also share.

Although I am not in the market for a new career, I also began to think that maybe I was losing touch with my own strengths - I always maintain that a person should keep an up-to-date CV, cover letter template and references at hand, as a way of remembering all you are and all that you have to offer the world. It is so easy to become lost in the busy-ness of daily life and to forget the intricate richness with which we are each blessed.

I began the list and it flowed fast and easily...

COMPASSIONATE
ANALYTICAL
CREATIVE
ETHICAL
PASSIONATE
ARTISTIC
MUSICAL
ARTICULATE
LOVING
POSITIVE
ATHLETIC
APPRECIATIVE
HUMOUROUS
FORGIVING
LOYAL
HARD-WORKING
RESULTS -ORIENTED
JOYFUL
KIND
RESOURCEFUL
CARING
RESPONSIVE
ACCURATE
LIFE-LONG LEARNER
COMMITTED
VISIONARY
BIG-PICTURE THINKER
HUMANITARIAN
MENTOR
VOLUNTEER
LEADER
TEAM MEMBER
CAREFUL

Last week I also entered four of my colour photos in a National Geographic photo contest - a small thing, yes, but significant to me. Although I majored in photography in university, my recent years have consisted of mostly "Mom shots" of my three kids. Of the four images chosen, my favourite is featured in this entry - the dragonfly photo that I call "Backyard Angel".

I remember how that dragonfly patiently posed for me on the weathered fence boards. I was fascinated by the blues and greens of his steely armoured plates, and how, up close, the delicate wings looked like ornate wrought iron railings. I think also, that at my best, I relate to the dragonfly - buzzing purposefully, efficient and sturdy; a profound asset in my chosen environment.

But at times, when my fuel tank feels low and I lose sight of my talent and abilities, I envy the dragonfly's freedom - it's time to dust off, time to use my wings; time to soar... I was made to soar.

River Poem

For the first time in a long while, I walked alongside the river tonight after dinner, all on my own - felt so nice not to have any earbuds in, to not have to hold a conversation, and just to enjoy the sounds and smells along the way.

I used to walk the same route five or six times a week with about two or three variations in the route. I never seemed to tire of it - even at -50 degrees celcius, there I'd be trundling along like Sir Edmond Hillary, gender-questionable in my multiple layers. Then somehow, work got more hectic and life more stressful, and I slowly got out of my established routine. Now I am starting to schedule some of these favourite things back into my days - mostly because I miss how my body used to feel after those walks; strong, supple and glowing.

RIVER POEM
Sweet clover, road tar, corn on the cob and dill weed -
Strange but compelling perfume!
Mallard's cluck, boat motor, frog chorus; sparrow's song -
My ears are eager for each new tone!
Foot fall percussion - gravel, grass, tarmac, grass...
My heart drums happily along :)
When I smile at dogs and they smile back -
That's a precious connection;
Windblown hair and dusty paws!
Waiting at home, my chiller mug with water
Simple luxuries - just to move, to breathe and to be
Alone by the river, but complete in myself.

Chasing Rainbows

Hard to explain why certain sounds, tastes or colours make me respond so profoundly - and why do the things that make MY cheeks flush and heart race leaves others asking, "whaaa...???" All part of what makes me an individual, I suppose.

Case in point... just got back from a musical pilgrimage to San Francisco. k.d. lang and the Siss Boom Bang were performing at the Robert Mondavi Winery, near Oakville California, and I have been captivated by k.d. lang since I first saw her doing some crazy hokey pokey with semi-fauxhawk hair in the 1980s - my friends went "whaaaa???" while I hokey pokey'd along smiling and clapping like a happy toddler.

My recent trek to Cali was part deux of what has become The k.d. Summer; starting with my birthday wknd at the Winnipeg Folk Fest, where she rocked the mainstage with her magnifcent talent. She is a rare artist who is exponentially better live - and the new band def kicks ass!

Her performance at Mondavi was equally breathtaking, btw... Now that my double dose of k.d. has passed, however, I feel grateful but decidely post-experience-MEH - no doubt spoiled by the sheer fire and beauty of her live performance, and too low on $$$ and free time to chase down another k.d. rainbow... in yet another city!

This was my first visit to Mondavi, and I was happy to confirm a few days ahead of the concert that the venue only holds about 1500 people - rare today to be able to enjoy an acclaimed artist like La Lang in such an intimate setting. The downside... some disorganization among the well-intentioned volunteers and staff at the event. We actually (inadvertantly!)paid for FOUR VIP tickets (for two of us, LOL) and had a devil of a time getting our correct seats near the stage. Finally it was sorted, but we did not get to finish the second half of our $195.00 dinners, and did not receive the two special bottles of wine we had pre-ordered/pre-paid for with our tix, waaay back in March. And my friend (another long-term k.d. lang devotee) also was dismayed to find that "VIP" ranking we were so happy to get in on, did NOT include any hope of getting an autograph, in spite of the small crowd.

What was supposed to be my long overdue k.d. connection was a bit of a disconnect, I'm afraid. At Folk Fest, I had friends working back stage, and had been offered back stage admission to possibly meet k.d. and co - I couldn't believe that this opportunity had landed within my clumsy grasp! Again, the gods were against me and, by the time I could connect with my contact and get anywhere close to the back stage, the band had already left the venue (over 35.000 folks at this performance!!!).

So, my k.d. dream has been uprooted, replanted, uprooted and replanted again. Will it ever be realized or will it simply become a larger and more wistful fantasy? Time will tell...as k.d. sings, long after she's gone the music will live on - xo!

Meaghan XO!

Enter Meaghan McCarthy - the five-year-old Toronto kid that just wants to go to school, see her buddies and play - without breaking her fragile bones. This little sweetheart is battling a rare form of cancer, and her story was featured recently in the Globe and Mail.

The happy face smiling at me from the page touched my heart - her paper crown covered in crayon hearts tilted back on tousled blonde hair. Her story traveled straight to my core being- that special, eternal place in each of us that makes us give a damn.

I clipped the newspaper photo and keep it near my work computer so that I am reminded to send healing energy to that dear child and her family.

Although I am much older, and corrupted with the cynicism of my years, I still relate to Meaghan and her dreams. Like her, I just want to get out there and enjoy the day!

As you go about your busy-ness, should you be so lucky as to capture a sunbeam (or two!), please remember to share xo!