Graceful Simplicity

I now have my name.com!

2013-03-22T14:53:00.003-03:00

This is where you will find me now: http://gracebezanson.com/

See you there.

There Are Giants Among Us

2013-02-12T16:20:00.000-04:00

There's nothing quite like a blizzard to change the voice of a forest. With every crack, creak, and deadly dry-cold timbre moan the easier it is to convince yourself that you are, indead, being hunted down by a giant with arthritic joints that sound like the loud shrill cry of rusty hinges. A giant as tall as the tallest tree, crashing through the forest where you wait and listen . . . is he getting closer?

What do you hear when the wind blows?

http://www.amazon.ca/Are-Giants-Dead-Mary-Norton/dp/0152038108

Preparing to Surrender to the Journey

2013-01-27T15:06:00.001-04:00

I have a memory of my grandparents visiting before they had to go to the airport. I can't remember if they themselves were going somewhere or if they were dropping someone off, but my grandfather had himself all worked up and in a sweat. He didn't want to miss the flight.

I am the person who usually shows up early, not because I want to be punctual, but because I assume something will go wrong during the journey (usually fears of getting lost) so I give myself plenty of time to make course changes. Much is said in praise of the journey being of equal importance, of not more, as the destination. Even though as a child my favorite game was "explorers," I much prefer the destination. I tend to avoid the journey part. Like my grandfather, it gives me nervous sweats. I can appreciate that "Life is a journey, not a destination," when applied to the overall course of one's lifetime, but not so much when applied to actual, physical travel.

Planes, trains and automobiles. I'd walk everywhere if I could. I don't like giving up control to the system of designated routes, transfers, connections, departures and arrivals. Too much can go wrong! And it does. I've been that person running from one end of the airport to the other as I hear my name called on the speaker telling me that my gate will be closing in 5 minutes. As if I wasn't well aware! I'm the paranoid one frantically rechecking my ticket, worried that I'm waiting at the wrong gate even though the gate number, departure time and destination city clearly match what's on my ticket.

And that is one reason why I will be traveling to Frankfurt, Germany and on to Paris and Lyon in France, the Alps, Italy and who knows where else for two months starting in June. My first time overseas. My first time really travelling. And, yes, I am terribly worried about taking the train from Germany to Paris and so on. I have to remind myself that I don’t need to know what exactly to do for any given situation; I can't preplan every contingency. I have to learn to trust that I will be able to do something. Taking this opportunity to finally travel is about finding confidence in my intuition and instincts to think on my feet . . . and survive! It is part of the adventure. Besides, one missed connection back home due to weather and with no empty seats for two days lead to a marvellous weekend exploring Manhattan . . . mostly on foot.

Now that that's out of the way, I can start worrying about how much all this is going to costJ.

Finding the Enchantment in Everyday Life: New Post on Buddha Chick Life

2012-12-02T15:45:00.000-04:00

Here's a little taste of something I wrote for Buddha Chick Life:

One who lives an enchanted life finds themselves transfixed by sudden, unexpected beauty and sensations. Their heart swells, filling up with the present moment. The world is infused with it; it is there, waiting for the taking. But if you don't seek it, you will miss it. All it asks of you is that you acknowledge it. The enchanted soul craves mystery, not just explanations, but the experience. We’re still rational, and probably have a keen interest in science and nature, but we have a need to touch the sacred as well, and the sacred is that wonderful dance of mystery, of being surprised.
Read the rest here . . .

5 Tips to Create Small Moments of Mindfulness

2012-11-26T13:45:00.003-04:00

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I tried to explain before in this post, I try to pause throughout the day, finding moments for mindfulness, or as I like to call it, enchantment.

I work from home in the country (as a virtual assistant); therefore my small moments of mindfulness tend to be home-based. I'm also in late fall/winter mode.

Want to bring more small moments of mindfulness into your day to day life? Here are 5 tips to bring more mindfulness into your daily life.

1. Start by making a list of everything you do during a typical day. Well, almost everything!

2. Review the list and check off a few items that you would like to transform with mindfulness.

3. Start small by picking one event to do daily for a whole week. Give it your full attention. Maybe it's just washing the dishes or making the bed. Resist creating a new habit. Start with something you already do anyway, like checking the mailbox.

4. The following week, add a second daily event. Add something new week by week until you have a few small mindful moments throughout the day.

5. Once you have this habit down, consider adding a new habit. Perhaps you want to start a formal 5 -10 minute morning meditation practice. Or maybe it will be something seasonal, like mindfully clearing the snow off your car every morning. If you got to do anyway, might as well do it mindfullyJ

Let me know how it goes.

Here are some of ways I capture mindful moments.

1. First thing in the morning, after getting dressed, I go outside to check the birdfeeders and refill, if needed. I hang out with the black-capped chickadees for awhile. Throughout the day I go out to relax with my feathered friends. The nice thing about winter bird feeding is that it forces you to get outside in all kinds of weather.

2. Starting the woodstove. You can't light a fire and then walk away—it will likely go out! So I sit crossed-legged in front of the stove until it's going strong.

3. Gathering wood. This also gets you outside and noticing the weather.

4. One meal. I try to prepare at least one meal a day paying full attention, especially to the smells. Normally this mindfully prepared meal is supper, but on the weekends it could be breakfast or lunch.

5. Movement. Sometimes spontaneous, sometimes planned in advance. For me it takes the form of free-from dance, yoga, or walking, whether it lasts 5 minutes or an hour.

6. Sips of tea. Even if you are working, every time you take a sip you can take a second to pay attention to the taste, smell, and warmth.

More sources on small moments of mindfulness:

1. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/annie-mckee/mindfulness_b_1339411.html

2. http://www.sharonsalzberg.com/realhappiness/blog/priscilla-warner/breathtaking-moments

3. http://blogs.psychcentral.com/therapist-within/2012/01/living-in-the-small-moments-mindfulness-and-everyday-miracles-zen-therapy/

4. http://blogs.psychcentral.com/therapist-within/2012/06/living-mindfulness-the-little-things-in-life-therapy/

5. http://www.habitspark.com/mindfulness-habit-transform-daily-moments-into-chances-for-mindfulness/

Greenwich National Park

2012-11-25T17:00:00.000-04:00

I need to start blogging again. I am having a really hard time commiting to it this year!

Here are some photos from my walk in Greenwich National Park, Prince Edward Island, Canada on November 14, 2012. My mother took all the photos.

Yogic Ideals and Being Human

2012-09-14T14:19:00.000-03:00

"Yogic ideals aren’t just for Gandhi. We’re human. We don’t have to achieve yogic ideals to some ultimate sense. The ideals are just a direction. If you’re going to walk across the country, it’s a long way. But if you point yourself in the wrong direction, it’s even longer. I, for example, believe in nonviolence, yet I’m still a violent person. I’m not murdering people, but my lifestyle isn’t perfect. Still, if I walk in the direction toward peace, that’s what counts. Mother Theresa said, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.” ~ from a Q&A with Rodney Yee about yogic stereotypes, yogic ideals and why yoga works.

Happiness is a butterfly

2012-09-11T10:52:00.000-03:00

"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."

~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

(Photo and quote orginally shared by Old Moss Woman's Secret Gardens)

The Pause

2012-09-10T10:41:00.000-03:00

Sometimes we don’t need to pursue happiness. We just need to pause and let it catch up with us. - Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

This is hard to explain through words. Periodically throughout the day, usually when I'm working, doing work around the home, or, conversely, not doing anything at all; in other words, at any time, I pause. Not a physical pause, but a deep, inner pause that fills my inner world with a longing for . . . happiness? In general I am a happy, content person, so these pauses seem like a reminder, a pre-programmed check-in, to pause in the moment, wherever I am physically and mentally, to find the joy in that moment. I see joy and happiness as synonymous with a sense of wonder, awe, and attraction to the mysterious. I believe that this pause has come from my dedication to my mindfulness/contemplative practice and yet it seems completely innate, akin to the child's sense of wonder for this experience of Life, we just have to re-train our minds back to this natural state of perception.

As Einstein writes: "The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery — even if mixed with fear — that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man. " (from "Mein Weltbild," 1931)

Donna Farhi writes elegantly about this pause in the book Bringing Yoga to Life, saying that it is a "healthy longing for the feeling of freedom. This longing is a vital and necessary component of any spiritual quest" (pg 70). We can either meet this longing at the bottom of a brownie pan; reality TV; or other numbing, mechanical actions; or, with discipline, "learn to be in the pause between a feeling and a reaction" where we can learn to "channel our energies in increasing tolerance for staying in the pause between desire and satisfaction."

The pause, for me, is a reminder to attune to the mystery of this messy and complex world. The pause increases your "tolerance" toward life, so instead of depression setting in, you enjoy the pleasant silence within yourself and ask what really satisfies you (this is the awe part—the source of aliveness). You can live with the intensity of life and not be overwhelmed. The mindfulness practices are not meant to shelter you from life, but allow you to stay with life in which you have little control, and from a centered place, fully embody each moment, each feeling, each sensation, and maybe even "enjoy" the unpleasant, the uncomfortable, the complex, the uncertainty as part of the dance of being human.

You can count on the pause; it is with you until death. It's a part of our rhythm, of our breath: the inhale is the manifestation of form, pause, the exhale dissolve, and pause again. I like to play with the pause in my ecstatic dance and yoga practice: Embody the form you are manifesting, rest in it when it reaches its fullness (the pause), then let the form fall apart, rest in the pause, and begin again.

We Are a Mystery

2012-06-27T18:56:00.000-03:00

Nothing worse could

happen to one than to be

completely understood.

-C.G. Jung

Source: foxontherun.tumblr.com via Alicia on Pinterest

The Fire in the Song

2012-06-12T13:06:00.002-03:00

There's something about the poetry of David Whyte that speaks to the soul. His words are ingested and taken somewhere deep in the body, mingling with the cells where they are best understood.

What does your wild mouth say?

Source: thebeldam.tumblr.com via Grace on Pinterest

The Fire in the Song

The mouth opens and fills the air with its vibrant shape
Until the air and the mouth become one shape
And the first word
your own word
Spoken from that fire
Surprises burns
Grieves you now because you made that pact
With the dark presence in your life
He said, “If you only stop singing
I’ll make you safe”
And he repeated the line,
“I’ll make you safe”.
Knowing you would hear it as the comforting sound
Of a door closed on the fear at last

But his darkness slipped under your tongue and became the dim cave
Where you sheltered and grew in that small place
Too frightened to remember the songs of the world
Its impossible notes
And the sweet joy that flew out the door
Of your wild mouth as you spoke

~ David Whyte ~

Granny's Bonnet

2012-06-01T15:07:00.002-03:00

My grandmother never wore bonnets. But my sister did.

When my older sister was young she was really into Cher and Tina Turner (this was the early 80's) and had the clothes to match her musical preference. I remember a lot of hot pink and electric blue shiny leggings and matching plastic jewelry.

Then she started reading books like Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie (whereas I opted for The Black Stallion and Grizzly Adams). Instead of hot pick leggings she started to adore demure pinafores. Eventually she swapped her big plastic 80's earring and acquired a bonnet. I can only assume my mother made it for her—bonnets being long out of fashion and not something you could buy at Sears. I believe she actually wore it to school once in grade six. I was probably a bit embarrassed by her fashion choices (not sure why—in grade five I pretty much wore the same sweat suit to school every day: a purple number with white stars).

And this leads me to the point of this post. I have some columbine (Aquilegia) that grows in my garden which I posted about before. Someone later told me it was Granny's Bonnet. At the time I took that to mean it was the variety of columbine. Ah, but the names of plants is never that simple. I just found out that Granny's Bonnet is the old fashion name for this classic cottage garden flower. So now I'm back to wondering what kind of columbine it is. My neighbour has some growing in his ditch and he said it was a wildflower—but I'm not so sure. It seems like a prolific spreader so it could just as easily be a garden escapee. The only wild columbine I'm aware of is red in color, like this:

(photo source)

Any guesses?

Where'd all my tadpoles go?

2012-05-20T20:48:00.001-03:00

Where do they all go? One of nature's mysteries? Not really . . . Today I spotted two water spiders (species yet to be identified--will be a separate post) hanging out, patiently waiting on the water lily pads. So basically, tadpoles end up in the stomachs of others.

Some of the creatures that prey on this low-on-the food-chain snack include:

raccoons
birds
fish
water snakes
dragonfly larvae and other predatory insects (that would explain the health of my local dragonfly population--but I've also watched adult frogs snack on adult dragonflies--karma?)
frogs
larger tadpoles

What do the tadpoles themselves eat (other than each other)? If course, it varies with the species, but in general they eat micro plants, algae, decomposed plants and animals. Tadpoles also eat their egg sacks after they are born.

These photos were taken about 3 - 4 weeks ago. My water lily leaves were covered in them (and there are a lot of water lily leaves in my pond).

The Thing About Beauty Is . . .

2012-05-16T15:11:00.000-03:00

The Thing About Beauty Is . . .

Some can dazzle you from afar with their glamorous splendour.

Some will draw you near with their sweet, intoxicating perfume.

Some inspire love songs for their colorful aura and exotic appeal.

For others, beauty is more subdue and wait quietly as the droves walk by.

For some, beauty remains unknown until someone gets close enough to see.

Lady's Mantle with Morning Dew

Choosing What Matters Most

2012-05-14T18:48:00.001-03:00

When times get busy, one of the hardest things to do is to make time for what and who matters most in your life. When I start to feel swamped, I can't even remember to breath. I do not handle stress well. Keeping stress levels down is important for everyone, but even more so for people with diseases like mine (ulcerative colitis) that react negatively to stress.

I often wish I handled stress better, but that personality trait doesn't seem to be in the cards for me. I'd rather leave the computer behind in favor of my yoga mat, even it means losing an extra money-making hour or two.

Source: Uploaded by user via Ann-Louise on Pinterest

So when the stress meter is rising, I calm down by:

• Sitting quietly in mindful meditation

• Take that mindfulness outside to explore my backyard and garden

• Practice yoga

• Practice my belly dance choreography

• Cook or bake

• Go for a walk down my favorite dirt road to see the stream (this takes at least an hour so it's a good long break)

• Often, if I'm feeling short of breath from stress, the best relief is to, well, make myself really short of breath by doing an intense exercise routine like HIIT, strength training, or, as I attempted to do today, go for a bike ride (my 5:30 am spinning classes are far behind me!). Afterwards, I feel as if I've sucked up all that oxygen I was missing.

(I just realized I chose a photo of PINK bike! Subconcious must be working!)

2012-05-12T16:33:00.000-03:00

Wanna be always happy? Always carry some chocolate with you.

~ Pablo Valle

Source: teatimefolio.com via Suzie on Pinterest

A philosophy to live by. Even better if it's a pretty and pink chocolate cupcake. Sadly, my confection skills are not at this level.

Native Plant: Leatherleaf (Chamaedaphne calyculata)

2012-05-11T17:51:00.000-03:00

Discovered another new to me native plant around the lake down the road. It's Leatherleaf (Chamaedaphne calyculata). I think the little bell-shaped flowers are charming:) Found along bogs, fens, wet peaty barrens and other wet areas like the edges of lakes and ponds.

For more information on this native plant, see:

http://www.nswildflora.ca/species/Ericaceae/ChamaeCalyc/species.html

http://www.borealforest.org/shrubs/shrub9.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chamaedaphne

http://wisplants.uwsp.edu/scripts/detail.asp?SpCode=CHACALvANG

Spring Comes, Blog Returns

2012-05-11T15:57:00.000-03:00

Sitting quietly, doing nothing,

Spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.

~ Lao Tzu

Source: houzz.com via TeresaM@ on Pinterest

Graves Island Walk: First Mystery Wild Flower of 2012!

2012-03-25T18:19:00.005-03:00

The bufflehead ducks:

The white ones are male, the greyer ones are female, but in the larger picture, there's a black and white duck that looks a bit different?

I think these are male (yellow bill) and female (dull green bill) American Black Ducks

Anyone know what this wild flower is? It's obviously an early bloomer. Found near the ocean on a scrubby trail. UPDATE: it is February Daphne (Daphne mezereum L.), a plant that was brought here by European settler's (i.e., not a native speices). It has a lovely lilac fragrance, but all parts are highly poisonous.

Song Sparrow? Some kind of sparrow anyway:)

From the yard, two common grackles:

Ice: Frozen Memories

2012-03-16T12:31:00.001-03:00

There's something about ice that makes me want to play. I don't know why, I'm the kid who didn't care much for figure skating lessons (the skates hurt my feet), but the ice is just oh-so-tempting. I just have to reach out the tip of a boot and tap the frozen water's edge—or, if I'm feeling less brave, I tap it with a stick first.

The ice beckons me to walk on it—or more precisely, slide across it. I feel my core react to the physical dynamics of the movement, bursting in a series of explosive micro-movements to keep balance and prevent falling and hitting my head. A few winter's ago, my Aunt was walking and slipped on a patch of ice, hitting her head, and suffered a minor head injury. I have yet to fall on my ass this season—all that yoga is paying off.

When I was kid, we used to go skating on a pond where there were always lots of other kids. One time an older boy decided to freak me out and told me how a little boy had fallen through the ice and drowned the year before in the exact spot I was standing on. I never forgot that spot and avoided it forever after. Now I'm pretty sure that the older boy was lying to me. When we moved out of town and to the country, we had not only one, but two, private ponds to skate on!

Ice is one of those things that is as beautiful up close as it is far away. I love seeing thick slabs of it full of cracks and bubbles. One year, down the road where a water spout pointed straight up out of the ground, a magical ice castle was formed. Being a kid, I imagined faeries and their kind played there. The ice castle never formed again in subsequent years.

One more childhood tale to tell involving ice (or in this case, the lack thereof): As a family, we used to go sledding on a popular hill in town. I remember sitting on top of the hill in my blue plastic, hollow toboggan begging my parents not to push me—there was a big puddle of water waiting for me below. My parents, explaining that it was ice and I would sail on past it, pushed me anyway. I ended up floating in the puddle of melted snow and ice with no foreseeable escape. I tried to paddle my toboggan to safety but only accomplished getting my mittens soaked in ice cold water. By then, my parents had made it down the hill to rescue me. I can't remember for sure, but I'm pretty sure I was a party pooper at that point and likely demanded I be taken home to recover the wounds to my pride (there were a number of older, cool kids present on the hill that day.)

What are some of your favorite ice memories?

Black-Capped Chickadees and Dark-Eyed Juncos

2012-03-15T18:11:00.003-03:00

Ah! spring . . . oh no, wait, winter's back.

We had a few days of spring-like weather, prompting me to start pruning my forever errant high bush blueberries (late winter pruning is a yearly ritual), but, as per usual, Mother Nature was just giving us a glimpse of things to come before we get to depressed to carry on and then hastily plunked another blanket of snow down--the chickadees are overjoyed. One thing I've observed over the winter is that the more blustery the weather, the more frenzied activity I get at my feeders. So without further ado, here are some belated winter scenes . . .

Most of the regular visiters know how to share. I can't say the same thing about the fair-weather bullies we had a few days ago (European starlings and grackles)--but where are they now that the weather is a bit rough, ha? No so tough, afterall!)

The dark-eyed juncos rarely stay still. They're busy hopping and skipping around, and this one is obviously having some fun in the snow.

I'm convinced that black-capped chickadees know how cute they are and that's why they're not shy and let you get real close to admire them better.

The dark-eyed juncos, on the other hand, have yet to be made aware of their high rating on the cute bird scale.

A junco at rest, a rare sight at the feeders!

Junco looking at me

Busy, but still time for bird watching!

2012-03-02T18:26:00.001-04:00

A post is long overdue but I've been busy getting my freelance career anyway (there's a lot of unpaid personal administration work!). But I still find time to pause and watch the birds. So here are my latest photos and some old ones I never got around to posting.

A lovely pair of mourning doves:

American goldfinches:

Still returning to my Bufflehead viewing hotspot, still can't get a good picture!

Female Hairy Woodpecker (the male visits, too, I've got a picture of him somewhere . . .)

So Many Wonderous Things . . .

2012-02-05T15:58:00.002-04:00

I don't know where to start! So I will start with my surprise today.

I had stepped out the front door to gather firewood, but not without my camera in hand and ready (turned on and zoomed in) in hopes of catching some shots of the goldfinch at the thistle feeder. No luck, the sound of the door opening always scares him off (how do I know he's a he: Male American Goldfinch in Winter). But then something else caught my eye (well, ear, to be exact). I turned around and found the source of the sound. Six unidentifable birds sat in a tree, singing a song I recognized, but couldn't quite place just yet. They flew away when I tried to sneak up on them for a closer look (darn that sun in my eyes).

(Due to the sun in my eyes, I couldn't see the tuff of hair on top of the birds' heads, which would have been a good clue!)

So I continued on my merry way to the wood shed, getting distracted by fresh snowshoe hare tracks along the way (and a set of unknown tracks belonging to a much smaller mammal).

Chores complete, I quietly walked around the corner of the house, hoping to sneak up on some birds again. This time I was able to get a decent shot of the Goldfinch.

As I was taking these photos, I heard a ruffle of wings over my head. I looked up and was suprised to see a Cedar Waxwing!

I didn't have much time to take a picture. I haven't seen these birds in a while. I wrote about playing with cedar waxwings this summer. I'm very happy to have them visiting my yard.

UPDATE: do the waxwings in the tree look a little chunky? Perhaps I have Bohemian Waxwings, not Cedar Waxwings (cedar's are slimmer) ! It's hard to tell the difference with the bad lighting. I do think they sounded more like cedar waxwings though, and if it was summer, I'd have no doubts, but where it's late winter, I'm not so sure.

Cedar Waxwing vs. Bohemian Waxwing

I have more bird photos to post later of black-capped chickadees, hairy woodpeckers, and black-eyed juncos. Stay tuned.

How to Explore: Pay Attention

2012-01-29T16:43:00.001-04:00

This is not about grand exploring adventures or discovering new cultures. This is about exploring your backyard--but the same rule applies to wherever in the world you may find yourself.

Pay Attention

The other week, while playing cards with our neighbours, my ears perked up at the following comment:

Neighbour: "Oh, we walk down that road all the time, too. Usually as far as the bridge."

Me: "Brigde? What bridge? There's a bridge down there?!"

Neighbour: "Ah, yeah.You can't be walking very far then."

/Apparently not. But I paid attention. About 30 minutes in, he said. That can't be, I thought, I must be walking at least 30 minutes down the dirt road before turing back. Am I blind? How could I miss that.

So I gave myself an hour and set out with a watch. I got to the point in the road where I normally turn around, about 25 minutes in. But I kept walking. In less than five minutes, I found the bridge.

I can't believe I just missed it before, every single time. I walk this road when I need a break from the computer or just before supper--I never gave myself enough time before.

But now I will.

I guess another rule would be just when you think you've walked far enough, go a little further.

A new area to explore (and get chummy with the ticks) this summer.

We're the Big Door Prize

2012-01-23T09:05:00.000-04:00

Ryan emailed me this video today.

I said, "Oh, I love this song."

Ryan (surprised): "You've heard it before?"

I was raised on John Prine and Bob Dylan.

Bryan Adams* ain't got nothing on this love song! So for all you oddball couples out there, this song is for you.

And just for the heck of it, another great Iris Dement song.

*I have to admit that I am huge sucker for Bryan Adams' love songs--I can't help it, I came of age in the 90s.