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.

Another Way?

I recently had an accident and broke my left wrist. It sounds clichéd, but for those of us who have had these experiences we know it’s the truth: a split second and life can be diverted along a completely new trajectory.  Naturally, I am overwhelmingly grateful that the outcome was not worse – broken bones, a bruised bottom, and pulled ligaments are minor in the larger scope of things; the pain is manageable and bones and tissues heal. I also believe these things occur to push us toward places and experiences we are meant to be.  Although, when I said I was overdue for a break from work, this was not what I had in mind!

I have only wept once during this situation, and it was not about pain or the inconveniences of my new one-handedness; it was because I miss playing guitar so much. My lovely girls, Pearl and Badessa, sit mute in their hard cases. They don’t miss my touch, but you should know I love and appreciate them so much that I kiss them after every session!  They are my confidantes, my collaborators, my oases from all of the pressures and stress of making a living and making my way in this complex world. With the girls in mind, I asked the doctor, deftly shaping my temporary cast, if moving my fingers would harm the fractures in my wrist. Happily the answer was “no.” As soon as that back slab was in place, I began gingerly forming air chords and scales with my injured hand, longing for what was temporarily impossible.

As I was leaving the hospital, the doctor ushered me to a computer station and showed me my x-rays. I felt a warm flush of thankfulness. My bones had not been displaced by my sudden, hard fall; they were healthy and strong. The doctor allowed iPhone photos of the screens; later I marveled at the smooth white structures on my x-rays, particularly the intricate bones of the hand. We are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).

At home and evaluating the repercussions of my injuries, another cause for concern surfaced – my dear Mother has been counting on me for the past few months.  She’s had eye surgery and cannot drive, so once a week we arrange an outing, and I take her to run errands, grocery shop and so forth.  It is never a hardship; it has been a nice opportunity for us to bond and share more than a few laughs. I knew Mom appreciated my willingness and patience, and I recognized how fortunate I was to have a loving mother.  Mom is very healthy, but she’s getting up in years, and she has given so much of her time and energy to her seven children. I wanted to do everything and anything possible for her; so, I worried about my Mom, feeling frustrated that our activities had been curtailed.  I texted my son, my adult daughters, my work contacts and called my Mom.

Yesterday evening Mom called me out of the blue – it was 9:30 p.m. and she had been thinking about me all day:  was I in pain, was I able to sleep; how was I managing. Touched by her concern, I assured her the pain was not too bad – it only hurt when I “forgot” about my broken bones and tried to use my left hand “normally.”  I told Mom that I had finally broke down and took some pain medication – just over-the-counter stuff; because I had refused any prescription pain killers at the hospital. My main reason for succumbing to pain meds was the pulled muscles and ligaments in my right leg which had given me an instant pirate swagger - that might look funny in the movies, but it is no fun in reality. I knew I needed to address that inflammation and keep my body moving. At bedtime I self-administered reiki healing; I had been doing so a few times throughout the day since the incident. I closed my eyes and focused on the pulsing sensation and heat, as directed energy passed over the areas of injury.  I imagined the bones knitting together, glowing with white light. Afterwards I was calm and sleepy – momentarily drained of mental and physical energy.  I reflected with gratitude on my Mom's concern for me and I remembered Mom telling me about a man in her small town when she was a child – he had healing hands, and a gift for setting bones.  Supported by a cloud-like network of cushions and pillows, I drifted into peaceful, comfortable sleep and dreamed of a blue cat and playing guitar.

Midnight, day two, I lay awake – more realities and practicalities were settling in.  I pondered being limited to clothes that would accommodate the bulk of a cast and which allowed for toileting – there would be no help with pants, buttons and zippers at work. What if there was an emergency at work (I work for a women’s crisis centre with limited staffing) – my right leg buckled from time to time, and my left arm was limited in range of motion and ability. I wondered if the doctor would allow me to drive to work – my return trip commute is about two hours each day; I had not considered I might not be able to legally drive with my injuries.

Morning, day three, bathing was a drawn out ritual – like trying to scrub a floor with a feather.  I still feared the shower where I slipped and fell, and so I opted for a bird bath using the sink basin, soap and washcloths. I celebrated being able to grasp my deodorant stick, only to plummet to despair when I found I could not apply adequate pressure to adequately glaze my right underarm with the product.  I satisfied myself with several feeble applications over the same area.  I thought about how hard Mom always worked and how nice she always smelled.  As a kid, I knew when she was going out somewhere special – the scent of Cover Girl face powder, hairspray and a hint of floral cologne. I awkwardly applied a little guava and peach body crème; coaxing two able fingers from my injured hand to pull their weight in the process, and taking care to massage the ligaments and muscles of my right leg. I was temporarily house-bound, but Mom would approve – I was training to "get back out there" as soon as I am able, a butterfly beating its wings against hard glass.

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.

Focus

Focus, Focus, Focus

By Pam Hadder

Seeking understanding

Meaning;

Meaning making,

I visualize -

My pale hands working paint,

Deep blue,

Like kneading dough;

Then spreading it on white walls.

The paint won’t speak,

It holds its secrets.

I blow into a hollow reed -

A single note

Woody, alto

Centering, calming;

Breathing.

Focus, focus,

I must record this,

Write it down,

Communicate,

Share.

Seeking understanding,

Meaning;

Meaning making -

I visualize.

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 ...

That Happy Thing :)

by Pam Hadder

We hear a lot about HAPPY - not necessarily in a direct way... But all of the complaining, self-absorption, dialogue about sex, sensation, shopping, acquiring etc. it's really about what makes us happy; why it's hard to be happy; that possibility that happy is just a metaphysical illusion; all that gobbledygook about the funny chemicals in our bodies that give us that euphoric sensation, and so on. Happy shouldn't be so complicated, should it?  Or at least that is what my gut tells me. My gut also tells me that we shouldn't have to analyse the crap out of happy, we should just "be" and enjoy what comes naturally (smart gut - not always such a smart person, however lol!).  

The daily actions of human survival require interacting with others, and this tends to complicate the happy equation.  I can only speak for myself - I am at heart an introvert, but yet I delight in people and our diversity. I recognize that I cherish and I am inspired by those small, special bursts of light when I enjoy loving, refined, joyous aspects of human connection. You should know that it takes tremendous effort and personal energy for me to step outside of my hard shell and extend myself to others - to make the first move - it's hard work for me; a constant tug-o-war.  Even when I do it - smile, make small talk and so on, my resolutely sequestered inner self monitors it all warily with a dash of mocking cynicism: "What exactly are you playing at, Pami?" And yet, I am not truly happy unless I can interact on a personal, human level, so I continue to nudge against the walls of my perennial awkwardness - striving for that authentic moment that brings me closer to HAPPY.

When I consider the effects of technology on folks like me, it really is a double-edged sword - we have this virtual vista, a means of extending ourselves to make connections with like-minded others, or to discover new ways of looking at life and the world.  On the other side, technology cannot replace looking into another person's face, a shared laugh, or just being together and appreciating an experience - such as nature/scenery, music, art, great food and so on.

And, of course, there is the aspect of the personal cultivation of happiness - I believe that HAPPY truly starts within us - introvert or extrovert, we need to nourish this little seed, to propagate the happy self possibility. And when we choose to be happy, to see the positive, to take a chance, to hope for the best in all things, we all know that we open our tender hearts for great darkness: rejection, for negativity, for all kinds of backlash. Happy is not for the feint of heart - no wonder we get pushed off the happy trail sometimes! 

I think the trick is just to choose happy regardless, and to not take the naysayers and bashers (and so on...) personally.  Choose happy because it feels right and it energizes you, and it puts you in the best position to enjoy all that life offers.

Queer Divine Satisfaction

By Pam Hadder

There is vitality, a life force, energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open…No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” 

– Martha Graham

The more I experience in life and the more I learn and open myself to expression, the more I recognize how truly remarkable the moments of true connection are.  Through music, academic study, visual art and the written word, I am working to understand my place, my identity, my gifts – and I recognize that this all is part of a profound yearning to connect with my personal purpose. I have always been independent – I made the choices I made based on my internal cues, and resisted external pressures, peer pressures.  As a result of non-conformity, I have been an outsider; including within my own life – a voiceless and formless observer, lonely in crowded places, and ever-searching.I have also been malleable, naïve; constrained and framed by pre-existing external and environmental structures which (constantly, consistently, persistently) told me who I was, who I could be, what was good and bad, what was right and wrong – although I resisted internally, and also externally at times, I cannot deny that I was shaped and guided by these forces. The result was a construct, a false “self” which housed/contained/imprisoned the authentic person.

At this moment I am working on a paintings and sculpture series for a course in colonizing/decolonizing art and visual culture. Through this work, combined with other coursework I have been able to emerge from the false self – reborn into understanding, awareness, while breaking free of colonized controls.  And so, I am a very young child with new, inquiring eyes and hands; finding my way, playing, trying new things.  I find myself looking at spaces and places that seem unfamiliar.  Everything is new, curious, re-framed – the good and the bad, what it means to love, what it means to be “woman.”  And my art waits patiently, endures and forgives, while I work intuitively to express with layers of paint, with melted bits of recycled water bottles, with words strung together –haphazard ebullience.

What surprises me the most is not the level and complexity of emotions elicited by this journey, but how it has enhanced my feelings of “being without space or place” and “being out of sync with time.”  I followed this path seeking affirmation, knowledge, yes, but a comforting kind of “yes, Darling.”  I never banked on this upheaval, this brilliance, this revelation, this beauty, this sorrow, this exhaustion, this exhilaration. My spirit blazes, blinding white, tireless and spontaneous, but my mature adult physiology is at odds with that inner reality.  I now understand why I am driven toward learning new languages: music, academic/feminist, artistic/visual, cultural – my spirit has reached this critical mass of tolerance.  It is weary of being suppressed, its incarceration has been served – it pleads, it shouts “let me speak!”  Most often I am half-terrified, thrust out of my cell, my virtual and actual life prison, and sometimes I want to scream - “Hello, hello, can anybody hear me in here; out there?” But I tell myself – “keep going; fight the good fight; it’s all related somewhere, there is an ending place, a place of intersection, a crossroads where all will be realized.”  And on the other hand, I rationalize, that learning has no end, it only expands one’s field of vision, one’s reference and reveals  more bread crumbs of unknowing.

So at this moment, I struggle, I am thankful, I doubt myself, I weep, I laugh, I question, I am silent – it’s all about trying to communicate with my authentic self.  There is an awful lot of failing, failing, failing – there is no room for an over-stuffed ego.  And sleep holds no escape; I have nightmares about Tinkerbell and other free-flowing odd themes – the spirited child bucks and rollicks in a woman’s body and mind, a wild maestro of sorts assembling and commanding the unforeseen, the unimagined – I mean, good God; what am I?   When my mind is numb from thinking and stimulation, and when my body is absolutely fatigued, I tire of disappointment, I tire of trying to connect, I tire of trying to make the best out of whatever scraps the wheel of life throws my way.  I am my comfort and my playmate – a woman, being led along an uncertain path by a precocious, dancing child – slightly out of step, and definitely in the wrong space and time.  Such as it is, this is my authentic space and time; this is my authentic self.

The Way I Roll

by Pam Hadder

It's that time of year.  March is this pot hole in the road of life; a seriously deep axle breaker on a seemingly endless stretch of rough, blah, bleak and ugh.  At least that's the case here in the heart of Canada! And if you live here, or have visited Winnipeg in the spring, your teeth and bones will ache at the memory of our pitted and pocked streets and roads!

My dearest FC calls March "high recall time. "Why "high recall?"  Well, it seems like this is the time of year when a lot of people pass on.  Personally, I lost both my Dad and my young niece in March, and it seems appropriate somehow, that this month is devoid of beauty - a sullen, slow-moving lunk, it lurks and sulks, unable to express any joy and threatening to steal our moments of happiness. This year March has been marked by the death of Canadian folk music icon, Stompin' Tom Connors - his honesty and kindness and patriotism always touched my heart.  He was like this uncle, a favourite that could always make you see the bright side of things, and who would steer you toward what really mattered in life.  A good man.

A dreamer, I  get through March by over-compensating, by stoking the brilliant coloured fires of my fantasy world. I am restless, yet drowsy; thirsty for the outdoors, and yet languid; lounging like I am hospitalized.  Bright colour, new tastes and textures; the sensory and the sensual - these are my cure; my self-prescribed course of treatment.  My senses are all set on high to filter every molecule of goodness and beauty out of the stark, cold, grey landscape of mourning. My mind is jumping, antsy, sparking -I am building, making plans; analyzing - I can close my eyes and smell the snow melting and I hear the first rain storm rumbling in the distance.  I have wings, I am rising, I am dancing on the ashes of March - bright brush strokes of azure, pink, violet.

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.

kd-lightful!!!

By  Pam Hadder

There may be many times that life disappoints us a little - part of it is our own expectation and/or our response to circumstances.  Then every once in a while, we literally live our dreams - the kind of magical times when you slide into this slipstream of ease, where it all goes so smoothly, the colours are pure and bright, your senses are attuned to razor-sharpness, and you feel simply invincible! And, if you are like me, you are afraid to exhale in case the bubble bursts!  (lol!)

Front row and centre stage for k.d .Lang's recent concert at Winnipeg's legendary Pantages Theatre was one of those moments.  I have been privileged to see k.d. Lang live before, and each time has been excellent, stellar, breathtaking.  I had some momentary regrets that I didn't take more photos, but face to face with a legend, it didn't seem right - I wanted to soak up every syllable of sound, every visual clip.

k.d. Lang is unique not only in her talent - charisma, vocal range, perfect pitch, musicianship - but she also gives 150% out there; it's really something special to experience her fusion of passion and music in live performance.  I have to admit, when I snapped up my VIP Nation tix, I was concerned - a previous VIP concert in California was a bit of a downer - my friend had treated me to this luxe event for my birthday, and we did not receive what was promised, and (unwittingly) paid for (at least!) FOUR tickets!

But VIP Nation was fabulous - our host, Hugo, was warm and welcoming, and proved to be as cool as his name (Hugo is one cool name, don't you agree?).   There were so many highlights, and I can play that concert in my mind, from my exceptional vantage point and it feels like it was a private concert - just for me. How great is that?  One especially memorable part was hearing Big Boned Gal while a gaggle of middle-aged babes grooved in the makeshift mosh pit - on the third (yes, THIRD!) encore - I mean, who does that any more?  Coincidentally, I had been enjoying listening to some older Lang albums this summer, and Absolute Torch & Twang is a def my nostalgic love child!

After the show, my friend and I got to attend a meet and greet with k.d.  I presented Ms. Lang with FemFest 2012 t-shirts for her and the guys, and we each got guitar picks from her and had two items autographed.  For me it was my songbird scarf (a natural choice to have your fav songbird sign your fav scarf!), and my beloved FolkFest patchwork purse.  We got our picture taken with k.d., and we will receive a link to download the pic from VIP Nation/Live Nation in a day or two (do you smell an update coming....)??? Gracious and friendly, she puts you at ease, and yet is focused and exacting - even with autographing and "small talk" - years of practice, and learning from mistakes, I suppose.  She is kind with even the more obnoxious requests - like the dippy couple in their 60s with a garage sale guitar, covered in maple leaves..."Well, they'll know where you're from..."

The cherries on my vegan cupcake were k.d. telling me "I like your hair!", and getting a big hug from her.  How does it feel to hug k.d.?- well, pretty damn fine... she's about my height (5' 5" - 5'6"), she's fit and when she hugged me  it was like when football players do that celebratory chest bump! Kaboom - before I knew it, it was over and I was asking, did that just happen?  lol  She's about a size 12 or 14 - so I don't get why people go on about her weight etc. She looks fantastic, has gorgeous, youthful skin - and, surprise, she's not 20 years old anymore!  She does not smell like incense, or rose petals or cookies - k.d. is odourless.

What's next? A self-professed "slut for k.d. luxury", I  want to inquire about Sha-Lang-grila time shares...omg, YES!!!

Cowgirl Zen

By Pam Hadder

No one has a path without obstacles, disappointments, pain and hardship -and sometimes, if you face the world smiling, people assume that you have it easy.  They may even hate you for it and may work damned hard to wipe that little smile off your face.

And these aren't monsters or criminals coming at your heart and soul with bombs and daggers- it's all of the regular folks you are surrounded by and that you interact with while doing all those mundane life tasks, attacking you with words and little subversive actions: maybe it's your family, work mates, neighbours, acquaintances...

You know what I'm talking about and maybe you've been part of the problem - impatience, inconsiderate behaviours, snide little remarks, back-handed compliments; things you think won't think will get back to the person - or maybe you secretly harbour a little snippet of hope that those darts will hit their mark? I have experienced this strange backlash many times in my working and personal life - sometimes it comes all in a bundle and I will joke about wearing my "weirdo magnet!"  I can't explain meanness - who can?  But maybe efforts at kindness and decency are read as Pollyanna-style idealism; or maybe happy folks are seen as a mark, a dupe to be exploited?  Think about it - what makes people want to bash Barney the Dinosaur, for goodness sake (remember, Barney was created for little toddlers, not adults).  Why does the general public constantly look for ways to denigrate celebrities, politicians and other public figures? Why is there always this need to target someone and bring them to their knees?  For what purpose?

Who knows, but another side to the "bash the optimist" phenomenon is that there is something peculiar and dark about our culture that likes to seek out the dirt; to crush successes and joy, and to focus on the negative  - in fact, there is great energy expended to create negatives where none existed; to seed and nurture and grow darkness! How many times have you seen Canadian performers celebrated around the world but ridiculed at home?  Celine Dion and Justin Bieber come to mind. You may not like their music or style, but can't you appreciate their mega successes and be happy for them; be inspired by them?

Personally, I am encouraged and delighted when people are successful, happy and living within their ideals - whatever those may be - it gives me hope.  I also can appreciate that it takes tremendous focus and discipline and persistence to be true to your dreams, and to remain positive in an environment that is increasingly focused on the negative.  Happiness is a choice - but it's not an easy choice.  Sometimes its really hard to find a little nugget of goodness to hang on to.

I have occasionally cursed my buoyant optimism - because 99% of the time, I wake up happy and eager to greet the day, do my best; try and try again - and many times I hit the hard wall (or floor!) of soul-crushing resistance.  Because, the world is not kind to optimists, to peaceniks, to artists, and to dreamers. Being an optimist is NOT an easy choice - you will be labelled as unrealistic, daft, blind to reality etc.  But the reality is - my reality; my personal reality is very much a choice, a carefully crafted construct - and most of the time, the goodness wins out over all of the detractors, because I do not allow them to have power over my time, my choices, my reality.

We all know there is too much hatred, paranoia, cruelty, violence, propaganda, ignorance, poverty, unfairness, injustice, bigotry, racism, bullying, sexism, ageism, religiosity, intolerance, radicalism, and reactivity.  It's pretty easy to destroy things, to bitch, to criticize; to dismantle - but  to create,  to balance,  to remain calm, to think of gentle solutions - these take courage; a soft, subtle strength that endures much, but is often unacknowledged and under-appreciated. I imagine myself, at this moment, writing down all of those ugly words, I am out at my favourite camp site, and I am dropping them into my camp fire - I watch them blacken and see them turn to orange sparks and  bits of grey ash, rising up into the night sky; purified by the stars' eternal beauty.  It feels good to imagine that - like adding some bleach to the dirtiest laundry you can imagine ;)

So who am I  to prat on about this?  Just a person who gives a damn, some zen-minded cowgirl, trying to do her best with what she was given. I really think the Dalai Lama said it best: "My religion is kindness."

Learning Curves

By Pam Hadder


Like one tiny puff of cloud in an otherwise empty sky, our ideas and dreams are born, and we witness them grow and change, or perhaps dissipate,  unacknowledged.  With music, sometimes there is a riff that comes to us and ingratiates itself -- hinting or even demanding that we give it some attention. As with any creative gift, we need to pay heed or risk losing the opportunity.

Poetry, lyrics, painting, and even work-based solutions all can be experienced in this way - have you ever sat in a brain storming session of any kind and it felt was impossible; a complete waste of time - coffee growing colder; you can hear the stomach gurgles and eyelid blinks?

Although I have always known that creativity can't be forced -- my life repeatedly affirms this theory! Humankind imagines that it is very clever, and, granted, we are all moderately so.  But what I have learned, and what continues to be reinforced for me, is that these tiny inspirations and seemingly silly notions are a great gift.  Our task is to attune ourselves to them, and take them and apply them - the universe is nudging us to write our prose, capture the imagery or add lyrics to the melody.  And... this is not hard work or torture - we need only submit ourselves with openness to the possibilities; it's as natural to us all as breathing.

Of course, there are so many things we can't control - and that can be a scary thought.  However, what we can control is our environment and how we respond to it - the climate for productivity differs for each of us, and we need to explore and be comfortable with our own unique situation.  Have you known people who can never be alone or in complete silence?  There is nothing wrong with that; perhaps it's torture for them!  Or those that need complete silence to "think" - every pin-drop is like a ogre's heavy foot step?  Most of us are likely somewhere in between; or we vacillate between needs for stimulation and repose.

Most of all, regardless of our ideals for living, we need to be open - open to newness, to previously unseen possibilities, to learning; to stepping outside our carefully constructed boundaries.

Why not take those little clouds and shape them with your time and talent.

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.

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!

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.