Reverb10 - Day 8 - Beautifully Different

I am taking part in #Reverb10 an annual online initiative to reflect on the year past and manifest what's next. Everyday in December there is a prompt on where to direct your writing attention....I am 3 days behind but, had to skip forward to this prompt immediately! Take a gander at Reverb10 and participate!

Day 4 - Beautifully Different
Prompt: Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful. (Author: Karen Walrond)


I am completely dumbfounded and amazed at the whirlwind of emotions this prompt has brought upon me. Even though I am behind on the others, this one prompt has engulfed my very being and I need to release it.

My day began as usual:  Checked the prompt, started mulling it over, mind creatively spinning.  Today was different.....there was nothing except confusion.

Different?  What makes someone different?  Why am I different?  I'm not, am I? 

I posted the question on my Facebook page, nothing.  Posted on my blog page, I think I heard crickets.  Eventually my Mom responded by saying I was candid.  Yes, this is true but, lots of people are....what a dull world it would be if everyone kept their thoughts, experiences and opinions isolated.  She was the only one.  This prompted more thinking:

•  I need to get better Facebook friends but, what are "better" friends and where can I find them?
• Facebook is not the forum for this type of thing....I have no problem getting "likes" or responses when I post something totally idiotic or non-earth shattering
• Most of my Facebook friends are illiterate
•  I am not different

I have "felt different" but, don't consider this to be a good thing.  Feeling different in ways that meant I didn't fit in, wasn't worthy of belonging to a particular group of people that maybe, in someway, I admired.  Too different to even attempt having meaningful human connections, feeling almost alien to the world surrounding me.  The more I opened up to people, the more "candid" I became, the more people told me I wasn't so different, they felt the same way.  It took many sleepless nights for me to work through the fact that my feelings were not different, like it took away a part of me, even if it was a bad part.  The thought that other people had these same feelings invalidated them, they were no longer mine.  What I eventually realized was that I was not alone, not weird, not crazy, not different.

What makes me beautiful is not how I am unlike others because when I listen to people, even a little I find the likenesses are plentiful.  I am surely unique, one of a kind but, different than different.  That, readers, is the paradox I've been dealing with all day....and I'm tired.

- The St.Godard Brood Keeper (not different)

Reverb10 - Day 4 - Wonder

I am taking part in #Reverb10 an annual online initiative to reflect on the year past and manifest what's next. Everyday in December there is a prompt on where to direct your writing attention....I am 3 days behind gak! Take a gander at Reverb10 and participate!

Day 4 - Wonder

Prompt: How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

Finally! A prompt I can actually just sit down and write about without giving my brain a creative hernia! 

This year along with the past 8 years I have cultivated a sense of wonder by attempting to raise a child.  My son is full of wonder.  Each day new moments present that are brand new to his experience, and lucky me as his Mom, I get to for a second time in my life (the first being when I was a child) relive wonder in all it's mighty splendor. 

My life with him is full of wondrous moments.   He has the uncanny ability to find it in the tiniest details like why cupcakes in the oven fluff up and rise.  I know it's because we've added baking powder and he believes it's magic....more often than not, he convinces me of the same.  The larger details of life such as God, the universe and death are awesomely mysterious to his unspoiled mind.  While I do my best to guide him, he also cultivates a sense of wonderment in me, giving me a perspective I may otherwise not have had.

It is my unwritten duty as a mother to preserve his inborn sense of wonder.  I continue to cultivate it never off-putting it, allowing it to permeate my soul.

- The St.Godard Brood Keeper (aka Wonder Woman)

Reverb10 - Day 3 - Moment

I am taking part in #Reverb10 an annual online initiative to reflect on the year past and manifest what's next. Everyday in December there is a prompt on where to direct your writing attention....I am 3 days behind gak! Take a gander at Reverb10 and participate!

Day 3- Moment
Prompt: Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

I think you would agree that there are many moments throughout the year that one feels alive.  The moment that is most prevalent for me in 2010 is the first time I went to visit my Mom at her new home in St.Malo.

My mother purchased a quaint cottage like home 1 hour from the city in the happy town of St.Malo.  At the end of the school year my son was going to stay out there for a few weeks and I made the executive decision to do an overnight stay with them before heading home solo.  The car was loaded with his necessary take along items and we were ready to hit the open road. 

The drive to St.Malo is one of my most favorite parts.  AJ is occupied in the back seat with a portable video game, we crank up the tunes to a level where the only options are to think or sing (we do both).  It is a perfect day, the sky is dense with a cool blue color, the clouds are sparse and appear as tufts of crisp white smoke along the horizon.  The temperature is moderate, the sun beats in through all the car windows as if to warm our souls in preparation for the visit. 

There is little traffic as we turn onto the highway, and we are free to take in the glorious prairie view which is full of life at this time of year.  The landscape is full of vivid color.  Lush green native grasses, a brilliant yellow radiates from the tiny budded flowers of the canola fields and just when it seems to get repetitive you'll spot a vast mosaic of wild flowers with fragrant pastel petals, a serene picture amongst a living canvas.   Every so often AJ will lift his head when I point out a herd of cattle, he waves and exclaims "Hello cows!", I join in.  Talking to cows through the car window going 100 km/hour never gets old.  There is road kill along the way but, we ignore it because we are in a happy place now.  An occasional retched scent of a slaughterhouse or pig barn of some sort wafts through the car until one of us exclaims "Who tooted?" followed by the harmonious reciprocation of "You did!"

An hour later, maybe less dependent on how much I was speeding quickly traffic was moving we arrive at our destination.  Both of us quickly throw open our doors, step out and breathe, just breathe.  The air is it's own entity here, so clean it fills our lungs with life, calms our hearts and engages our spirits.  It's warm with a slow flowing breeze.  The kind that moves not only around you but, through you.  How can it be so different here than in the city? We don't know and don't care.  We respect it and enjoy it, we are free to be, just be.

The beach is just down the gravel road, we grab our gear and head out.  My son is lit up from the inside out, fluttering with excitement and I feel like I'm 8 all over again.  "Let's go Mom, let's go!" Our footsteps become faster as we draw near, the grit of the gravel under foot becomes louder, each pace filled with more anticipation than the last.  I sit and chat with Mom on the beach allowing the sun to penetrate my skin and warm me from the inside out.  My muscles begin to relax, the stresses of life start to float up from my shoulders as if I could wave them good-bye as they go.  Suddenly AJ's full attention is on nature, playing with the motion of the water, tiny snails and schooling minnows have replaced his video game in an instant. Perfection.

As the day slowly turns into night and the sunset fills the great room of my mothers house with the most magnificent light we prepare to decompress further by an open fire. Roasted marshmallows are on the menu and as I pull the fluffy white squares from the bag I am flooded with memories from my own childhood, a simpler time where small things were appreciated and the daily grind was nonexistent.  AJ and I compete for the perfect marshmallow, each using the utmost care to not to burn them in the process.  We both enjoy pulling the golden brown crust off to expose the flawless gooey center, victory is ours!

The hours pass and we all sit in our respective chairs that surround the fire, sinking further and further into them as we tilt our heads back slightly to gaze up at the star lit sky.  We talk about things not of consequence, drifting in and out of silence while memorized by the dancing flames of the fire and the glowing orange embers beneath it.  The fire dies down in the wee hours of the morning and we depart to our beds.  A cool breeze flows in from the window, there is no intrusive street light to break through the curtains so I can leave them open and allow the dawn to wake me (then I get up and close them so I can sleep until noon). 

Everything is calm.  Only in the distance can you hear the bug zapper as it annihilates thousands of mosquitoes and the deep moan of the stray cats in heat.  I am lulled into slumber where I dream of what St.Malo will bring tomorrow and how it felt to be truly alive, even if only for an instant.


- The St.Godard Brood Keeper (J'adore St.Malo)

Reverb10 - Day 2 - Writing

I am taking part in #Reverb10 an annual online initiative to reflect on the year past and manifest what's next.  Everyday in December there is a prompt on where to direct your writing attention....I am 2 days behind gak!  Take a gander at Reverb10 and participate!

Day 2 - Writing

Prompt: What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta)

My mother kept a journal from the time I was a newborn up until about the 2nd year of my life.  I cannot recall when the first time she revealed it to me but, I can remember the pages flipping through my fingers, my heart racing with unequivocal joy as I absorbed each inked word into my very soul.   I am certain she didn't realize at the time of writing it, what a cherished gift this would come to be for me.  I have read it many times since it's introduction and the same question surfaces each and every read.  Why does my mother not write more, and more often?  She is undoubtedly one of the most gifted writers whose words I have had the delight of reading.  Her reply haunts the word slinger in me each time I position myself to create.

"There is no original thought, it has all been written or said before."

There is NO original thought.  So what is the point?  It hinders my process frequently.  I am, on good days a free flowing writer.  I do not stop to ponder the words that are pouring out of me, I just let it be and edit at completion.   When her words pop into my head {no original thought}, It nullifies everything I was about to say, the meaning behind the words diminishes so much so that they are no longer worth the paper/screen they are on.

I attempt (more successful than not) to eliminate this way of thinking by incessantly repeating the following words in my head as I furiously type out the upchuck of my mind;  If the words are there but, I have yet to read them, has it really been written at all?  Mostly a tree falling in the woods analogy and consequently not an original thought.

More than likely her words reign true, there is no original thought, how can there be?  If I have yet to read it, it does not exist for me therefore it is my original thought.  Many of the best writings are based on an unoriginal thought anyway, with each individual writers personal twist.  Therefore, I write on. 

- The St.Godard Brood Keeper (Still encouraging my Mom to write)

Reverb10 - Day 1 - One Word

I am taking part in #Reverb10 an annual online initiative to reflect on the year past and manifest what's next.  Everyday in December there is a prompt on where to direct your writing attention....I am 3 days behind gak!  Take a gander at Reverb10 and participate!


Day 1 - One Word

Prompt: Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)

To ask me to encapsulate an entire year with one solitary word had proven to be quite a challenge for me but, I think {DEFEATED} was the most prominent feeling for me this year, and if the glove fits....

New Years 2010, I was on the couch, alone recovering from an emergency salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of 1 fallopian tube and ovary) due to a ruptured ectopic pregnancy.   This was subsequent to a miscarriage only 2 months earlier.

Everything about me was broken.  My physical being, my spirit but, mostly my heart.  I was utterly broken. I believed in my mind that I was a failure, I could not "normally" conceive our second child and the universe was telling me I didn't deserve it, it wasn't mine to have.   It took the greater portion of the year to actually convince myself to move on from that.  I became a little more isolated, a little more jaded and made the decision not to attempt conception again, I would never go through that again.  I couldn't, I was defeated.

For 2011, I have a brighter view.  Things occur only because they are meant to.  That is the simple reasoning which helps me carry forward, when nothing makes sense and the world is on my shoulders.  I am currently undergoing the diagnosis process for yet another medical issue and I anticipate that the word {ACCEPTANCE} will manifest for me this upcoming year.

Acceptance that everything is as it should be.   That the things I need to change will do so only by determination, strength and the belief that they will.  Accepting myself for who I am and my offerings to the world no matter how small they may be.  Accept others, for who they are and the uniqueness they each represent.  Perhaps most importantly, acceptance that destiny cannot be created.  I do not have the power to alter what will be, only how I let it affect me.


- The St.Godard Brood Keeper (Reflecting, manifesting, 1 day at a time)