Don't Miss Your Dover

Some opportunities present themselves once. The tradition of Canada’s largest single day rally of Motorcycles in quiet little Port Dover, Ontario is one such opportunity—for 2014 at least. If you missed the June event you will have to wait until February 2015 before the doomy date rolls around again.

The motorcycle descent on Dover is a tradition that was born on November 13, 1981 when Chris Simons and a couple dozen friends gathered at a local watering hole, had a great time and agreed to make it a ‘thing’ to do whenever a Friday the 13^th rolled around. Fast-forward thirty-three years and Chris and his gathering of buddies has spilled over the confines of the Commercial Hotel into the streets, the parks, the pier and beyond, including a makeshift tent city that springs up in a Kinsmen sports park.  Estimates are that more than 100,000 soul moving machines of steel and chrome come together to carry on the tradition of Destination 13. Mike was among them arriving on his classic, a Honda CB750.

I arrived in my own vehicle and like thousands of other four-wheeled party crashers was stopped pleasantly at the edge of town by Provincial Police, redirected to a cornfield and bussed-in to join the event. The irony of all those black and white rebel leather clad biker movies was not lost on me in this moment. 

And just to clear up the fuzzy detail of why I was not on the bike with Mike—two very important factors: First, my ‘Motorcycle’ and my ‘Momma’ are not quite in sync yet. We’re not entirely finished raising the last of our children into adulthood and I’m just starting to nurture some long supressed reckless abandon back to life. A sustainable future of traversing the continent on two wheels with my husband depends on a good introduction of short successful rides; this was not the day for my ride. The second reason I drove myself is the very cognisant understanding that riding for Mike is therapy, meditation and how he gets his brain back; I have a theory that any trouble he has with me is not going to be escaped with my arms wrapped around his waist at 100km/hr. That’s a little like trying to run away from your own stink. Twenty-two years of marriage has taught me that a little space is some of the best affection I have to shower. 

I could feel the benefits of his solo ride along the winding roads to Dover when we met up in front of the Main street post office. I couldn’t help but acknowledge that the ‘something in the air’ that is Port Dover on Friday the 13^th was also in my husband. A relaxed, no worry, no judgement demeanour that saunters down the middle of the road admiring the view and the sunlight glinting off candy apple paint and shined up chrome.

There is something I discovered to appreciate wholly about an event that draws a crowd as ‘walk-of-life-diverse’ as a biker’s rally, and places you so completely in the company of good people who are good with life.

This struck me right away and has remained; the amazing commonality in a crowd thousands. Beyond the obvious affection for riding was a distinct absence of striving, a peaceful ‘be here now’–ness which I’ve simply never encountered anywhere else in my everyday living outside of my own personal stillness practice. It was interesting that though Mike and I travel very different routes to inner peace, here in this place the two came together in a single subtly of mind.   

We lunched on the lawn of a beautiful Port Dover home with soft grass and stately trees. It was an ideal side-street retreat from the sun and the denser crowds. Gathered there with others resting we admired a steady stream of riders leaving and arriving to and from destinations unknown. 

I closed my eyes for a moment and absorbed as much with my other senses as I could, the sounds, the smells, the rumble of the motors and the songs of the birds. I memorized the feel of the warm sun breeze on my skin and Mike’s hand upon my back. This is what the world needs I thought, this right here and I wanted to take it with me, every ounce and nuance of it—back with me from these rally streets to everyday life. When they talk about how to change the world, I am convinced the answer can be found in the collective peace of 100,000 souls gathered together for no reason other than to be there.  

Some opportunities present themselves only once—like life. I’m very glad I didn’t let this one slip on by. 

...to seizing opportunities! 

Love

M 

UN-Do-Ing ...the Spring Review

Spring is in the air! It’s wonderful to point your face to the sun and jump over melting rivulets of snow. Birds are singing and celebrating and everywhere around us Nature seems to be waking up to a brand new beginning. It’s Blissful!

Or should be (especially after the winter just endured)...but it’s not. Not for everyone, for some of us there is something else in the air—Melancholy. I say it is in the air because so many seem to suffer at this time of year but to be more exact it is a low vibration of unease running in the ground beneath our feet. It makes us feel ‘unstable’. It is disconcerting and powerful and reaches into us the way the roots of a tree reach into the earth, seeking water and foundation. Melancholy reaches into us looking for a home, something to feed on and cling to. It asks questions we don’t know how to answer and exposes truths we’d rather ignore.

I’ve come to believe that each of us is subject to an annual review; a meeting with the spirit for some personal reflection. Our spirit wants to check-in, wants to know how we are progressing on our path of true nature, and demands an account of the difference we are making in the world. It wants openness and honest answers. It wants an action plan.

It’s your soul on the hot seat.

My time for a spirit review seems to arrive with the first robin. I can always feel it coming but it always takes a day or two to realize it’s here. There really is no better way to describe the feeling that to say it is a bit of an ‘UN-do-ing’ wherein everything feels to be un-ravelling. I become momentarily un-happy—with my work, my capacity to love, the level of devotion to people and things that bring me great joy. I question whether I am living passionately and wonder if I will ever uncover my purpose. The questions are tough; Am I loving enough?, forgiving enough?, sharing authentically with the world?, being true to my spirit?, am I making a dent?, a difference?, am I weaving joy or sorrow into the lives around me? Am I doing what I am meant to do with my life?

It’s UN-peace. And many years ago I would have let it take me in a spiral, but I have come to understand that it is UN-peace in the pursuit of growth, UN-rest on the path to authentic living, UN-happiness preluding greater joy. There is no way through but through.

Allowing yourself time to ponder the questions, giving yourself honest answers and forgiving yourself when you hear truths you’d rather deny. It is UN-comfortable and UN-nerving but it is the underside of growth.

It seems a very strange thing to share—my Spring Melancholy ‘UN-do-ing’ but I’ve noticed that Spring, with all of it’s new beginnings, promises of brighter days ahead and growth seems to be a time of UN-do-ing for many more than me. I just want to share that you are not alone.

Grab the hand of someone also in the woods and help each other through. It won't take long.

Love

M

The Peace of Practice

Back from the buzz, the constant humming and busyness of family celebrations and holiday cheer. Back from the feasts and throng. It always feels wonderful returning to this…normal, even with the absurdity of how busy normal is; there is comfort in the routines we are able to slip into an ordinary day.

The first few days back are chaotic at best, engorged with a backlog of ignored and neglected duties, lost mittens, backpacks and safety patrol vests. It takes a solid block of time to wrestle the recycling, the un-decorating and the laundry under control. Cobwebs waste no time creeping over both the house and my head after just two weeks off and much ‘out of the ordinary’. I swear the first 12 minutes of Monday morning were spent lying quietly in bed trying to recall the actual time I get up to push the button that makes life go.

However, despite the requisite struggle to right the ship, this year has been better than most; both the being off and the getting back. Thanks largely to Practice.

‘Practice’ is my personal devotion to create and maintain a peaceful happy life through personal awareness, growth, meditation and contemplation. New age Hippy-Dippy fluff lots might call it but without hesitation I will declare that adopting the Hippy-Dippy fluff is one of the very best gifts I have ever given myself. Beyond the mental health and happiness benefits there are the residual benefits of increased physical wellness and strengthened personal relationships. A strange and beautiful transformation in all aspects of life happens as you learn to ‘be’.

Mindfulness and present moment awareness which are tools of practice got me through most of the holiday, and are responsible for 98% of my ‘mostly calm’ demeanour in these first days back. There is much to be celebrated in that accomplishment! Still I have to say that most of what I have been able to sustain over the past few weeks is the equivalent of meditative triage; in the field, fire-out techniques succinct but far from enduring and I can feel my spirit longing for the comfort and sustenance of retreat. I’m sure everyone else in my circle is longing for my retreat too as my patience dwindles, my humour fades and my tolerance for hiccups withers and dies. I can read their faces that silently plead “Go! Go now and be quiet, meditate, get in touch, reconnect with your inner peace. Whatever it is that makes you tick happily along….please…GO, do it now!”  Perhaps my practice is the best gift I’ve ever given them!

Along with getting back to work, school and life routines it’s wonderful to be back to the routine of Practice. Except that I feel like I’d like to share a little more of the journey with others as I begin year two. So I’m re-jigging.

When I created The Space Between Raindrops it was to keep us, as a family, on track and welded to the idea of uncovering and celebrating the many blessings of our lives (and to indulge myself with a place to write). In its’ time it became a treasure of memories for me, and much to my surprise, brought some smiles to others as well.

After Gratitude, Mindfulness seems the best suited title for the next chapter.

I have no way of knowing what kind of stories will land here while I capture the triumphs and struggles of my Hippy-Dippy quest but you are more than welcome to follow along, laugh with me or at me, ask questions, share and maybe dip your toes in the water.

Much Love,

M