Very Much Like A Newborn Child.

The wonders of nature enchant me, allure me.  I've been feeling rather sad and the words typing in my head were words of woe, of sadness, of doom, of gloom.  I needed some inspiration and the wonders of nature, called my name.  Cast aside those dreary thoughts, said the world outside my window, and let the words of awe, of appreciation, bring you from the clouds of pain and into the rays of hope.  

For the last few days, three foxes, a vixen, a reynard and their cub, have been wandering through my garden.  Several times I tried to discreetly photograph them all together.  All I managed was a bunch of blurry photos.  The above photo is about the only one that turned out fairly well.  This photo was taken from my living room window.  And like a fleeting fox, the fleeting negative words that had typed away in my mind, vanished as I marvelled at such a captivating vision.

Today we had a glimpse of that mysterious glowing orb in the sky.  Enough rays of sunshine to make the solar lamps glow.  I sit here on a gentle early morning and I listen very carefully.  Outside is the haunting sound of a fox.  A sound very much like that of a newborn child.  Today is going to be a very good day.

Even Further Back.

It had been suggested in a comment by Laura, at this site, Austanspace and I quote, "I gotta get a scanner.  We should all show of our funny clothes from the 70s." And a follow up comment in the article I'm referring to, "Briefly Back To The Seventies", was made by Sharon at this site, Random Thoughts, that we might attempt this, " I don't know how to do it, but I think it would be good fun to do a photo blogfest from the 80's. For women we had great hair and fashion....Maybe I'll try and figure out how to organise a blogfest....."

Okay, the seventies, the eighties, or whatever. I shall see what transpires and if a blogfest is organised, than so be it. It might be fun to reflect and could provide some rather interesting history lessons for the younger generation.  

And now I go even further back. Yes, that's me, the one sitting on the pony.  The year is 1958 and I'm about four and a half years old.  The location is the London Zoo. I wonder what the young me was thinking.  How would he react to the older me.  I believe he would be encouraged to know that despite the passage of time and the influences of the more cynical world, that the older me has never lost the childlike curiosity that beat in the heart of a little boy on a pony.

To the little boy on the pony.  Here is a photograph of your own beloved son when he was of a similar age.  His name is Tristan.  Through the good times, the tearful times and the times of rejoicing, your son has been a source of inspiration that kept you alive.  Today your son wished you a happy birthday.

Music Transports You.

Music transports you. Takes you on journeys to moments in time. Memories of good times, bad times, happy times and poignant times. Music captures and freezes the thoughts of the past. Etched forever in your mind.  You hear a song and you are there. The remembrance of childhood dreams, of first love, of love lost and learning to love again. The storybook of your life are written in the feelings of the music.

I remember that moment so vividly. A snapshot, a memory in the photo album of my life. My then wife and I were driving by a local park on a warm and sunny spring day. She spoke to me and the confession that she was having an affair, shook me, rattled me, brought tears to my eyes. This would be her first affair. This would be the first step down in a battle with my own personal hell. Her second affair nearly killed me.

And the song playing on the car radio as she spoke those chilling words, was the one in the video above. A haunting song. A song that reminds me of where I was in my life and how well I'm doing now. 

Music transports you. Immerses you in the highs, the lows, your cares, your woes. Sense the moment and know that music and the passion that is your life, are intertwined. My friend, I leave you with the above song.   

Beyond The Sky.

In those darkest moments of isolation, my mind reaches out and seeks some inspiration.  The inspiration that reinforces just how much I have to be grateful for.  

My  mind drifted back, drifted back to a time, so very long ago.  Into our lives came a family with an amazing little boy.  A clever little boy with a ready smile and a zest for life I've seldom seen.  With a cheerful demeanour, he recited his very own poetry.  Of being black and blue from where the needles went in.  Of being a "human pincushion".  This little boy, this inspirational and brave little boy, was suffering with the evil onslaught of leukaemia. 

Then one day we got the news.  This little boy who touched the hearts of all he met, had drifted off to sleep, never to awaken again.   And I look beyond the sky, think of that little boy, thank that little boy, who cherished the wonders of  life.  The tears are streaming down my face.  He was five years old.

Hope Amongst The Mountains.

I would go out for a morning stroll and be awed by the mountains that surround the home of Heather and Wayne.  I marvelled at such majestic wonder.  Indeed, there I was in a town named Hope and hope was there, amongst the mountains.  This a view of Mount Hope that I took front outside their front door.
In case you are not already aware, if you click on the photos, they will enlarge and fill up your computer screen.

And this a view of another mountain that can be seen just outside their front door.  This breathtaking mountain is Mount Ogilvie.

A few minutes away from their house is this picturesque lake with a magnificent mountain backdrop.  This is Kawkawa Lake and the mountain in the background is Mount Ogilvie.  I spent a most reflective hour there, listening to the wind as it gently flowed through the valley.

And as day turned to night, one last look at Mount Hope.

One last glimpse of Mount Ogilvie, as the final moments of another day in Hope, drew to another profound and inspirational conclusion.

I looked out the bedroom window and watched as the moon set behind the mountains to the west.  I sensed hope amongst the mountains and I know that such feelings of hope resonates in the hearts of Heather and Wayne.  May hope and positivity embrace your heart.

Bear With Me?

I was told to watch out for the wildlife when I was staying at Heather and Wayne's.  'Watch out for raccoons and watch out for bears', I was warned.  Fair enough, so I kept a watchful eye and managed to photograph a few 'scary' creatures in their garden.

I sat outside on their patio, camera at the ready.   Much to my 'horror',  I noticed a couple of 'menacing' looking birds helping themselves to birdseed.  Suddenly I'm thinking about a remake of a certain Alfred Hitchcock film.

Then it got even worse.  I observed that dreaded little creature known as a squirrel.  Well, I think it's a squirrel or a chipmunk.  Anyway, it's evidently some kind of  rodent that can makes the lives of gardeners a sheer misery.  They love to eat bulbs.  And no, not the kind that light up your house.  Apparently, they have a love of tulip bulbs and many a squirrel and chipmunk has been seen booking flights to Holland.  Possibly with the exception of flying squirrels who save themselves a fortune in airfare.

Now then, back in my garden in England, I can have some real worries about wildlife.  Who would dare want to upset a hedgehog?   Even the garden gnome is wary of this 'evil' beast.

And here's another monster that has been seen wandering through my English garden.  Such an animal, with that menacing look, is best kept a safe, safe distance from.

Yes indeed, beast beware!  I very bravely took a chance to get a more up close photo of the crazy critter.  Whoops!  My gosh, it's Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet star!  "Hello Penny...ummm.....good dog...."

You may recall that I was told about the possibility of seeing a raccoon or maybe even a bear.  I was awoken by an almighty crash.  "What the f**k?", I thought.  I noted the time.  It was just gone 4:30 A.M. and it was starting to get light out.  I looked out the bedroom window and......

And through the safety of the glass of the front door, I photographed what looks very much like a bear.  Bear with me?   Oh no, I definitely kept a safe, safe distance.  Thank you very much.  

Hope Grows In The Garden.

And what of freedom?  The freedom to soar amongst the trees and find the words to describe our pain, describe our joy.

And what of the mountains?  Do we see them as barriers?   Or do we visualise the view from the top and the panorama that inspires us to seek a happy life?

And through the forest, those trees of confusion in our minds, can we see the clearing ahead?

I gazed over at the snow-capped mountain, thought about my friends, Heather and Wayne.  I sensed we were all on top of that mountain, looking out at a positive, more caring, more compassionate world.

We spent a couple of hours at Minter Gardens.  It was a lovely, sunny day.  I was grateful to be amongst such beauty and grateful to be there with two very close friends.  Minter Gardens is located 115  kilometres east of Vancouver and only about a half an hours westward drive away from Hope, British Columbia.

And Wayne, what of our deeply profound conversations?  I see in your eyes the passion of a man who has so much more to tell.  You have told me a few tales of your life with such articulation and powerful passion.   Now can truly be the time, through the magic and the wonder of the written word, for you to find some comfort for yourself, and in turn, for others.  You, my friend, my brother in the true sense of transparent humanity, have a gift for writing.  Open that gift and share your feelings.  Your mind, your soul, will never be shackled.  

Heather, Wayne, you are both testimony that, despite the adversity that entered your lives, positivity will never let the ugliness of a negative environment destroy your determination, to live your lives the way you want to live.

Hope grows in the garden.  It is nurtured and will blossom through the undying force that we call love.  

From Home To Home.

I gazed out the window and said a reflective fond farewell to British Columbia.  The plane took off from Vancouver airport at 5:00 P.M on Saturday, June 11.  After a nine hour flight and the advancement of eight time zones, we landed at Manchester airport at 10:00 A.M., on Sunday, June 12.  Where the heck had the weekend gone?
For five weeks I left my own routine to to be involved in the routine of two remarkable people.  Two people who have been beset with unimaginable adversity.  I did my very best to be there for my friends.  My own life was put on hold.  The passion I have to write was set aside for another time.  Yet I know that through the deeply profound and inspirational experiences that we shared, that we embraced, my ongoing quest to be a better man, moved one step closer to a more compassionate reality.  I want the mixed emotions, the joy and the despair, to be conveyed through the power and the wonder of the written word.
I'm exhausted yet elated.  I'm tired, but I cannot sleep.  Jet lag has left me with a feeling of surreality.  I look around my English home and wonder if the last five weeks were just a dream.  Did my trip back to Canada, my other home, really happen?  And I realise that it was very real and very raw.  I challenged, once again my anxiety, my overwhelming sense of being stupid and knew that no judgement was made of me.
I shall be doing a few postings of a time that will be etched in my heart and soul, forever.  I have been humbled and I'm even more grateful for all the good that is part of my life.  I have watched, with great admiration, two people who could easily be overwhelmed by a negative environment.  And somehow, despite it all, they continue to seek and cherish all that's positive in life.  Heather and Wayne, the next few postings, I dedicate to you.

And thus from home to home.  On a misty mid-June early English morn, I reflect upon my life and understand that changes in our lives do not happen until we are sincere with ourselves.

Highway To Hope.

It's a cold, dark, rainy early morn in the sleepy little town of Hope, British Columbia.  And I listen to the rain as it taps and dances and splashes upon the bedroom window.  In this moment of quiet solitude, I reflect  upon the ongoing significance of my journey back to this other world, my other home, my other reality.
I'm staying with my dear friend Heather and her husband Wayne, a gentleman I've known for a very short time.  Yet, time enough to understand that through all the adversity he has endured, flickers the flame that will not give negativity permission to dominate and overwhelm his life.  With the ongoing support of his remarkable wife, Wayne has understood, that through trauma and tragedy, we have choices.  Wayne knows he can and he must give himself permission to be positive.
A few days ago, Wayne and I went off to the local shop.  We got to talking to the lady behind the counter.  During our good natured chat, she mentioned that her husband was in a tribute band that did 'AC/DC' songs.  Naturally, the name of the tribute band is, 'Eh C/DC'.   "Ah yes", I mentioned, "AC/DC the band that did a song  titled, 'Highway to Hell'.  Well, I suppose we're on the highway to Hope."
Wayne and I headed back down the road and back to their beautiful home.  A home nestled amongst the breathtaking beauty of Mount Hope and Mount Ogilvie.  I walked along and Wayne wheeled along.  Yet, I do not see this man now confined to a wheelchair.  For, I see beyond the wheelchair and what I see is Wayne.  His eyes tell the story of a man trying to move on from the shackles of his physical restraint.  And deep down inside, I know he senses that the magic of imagination, the spirit of creativity, can never be allowed to be stifled.  Through such a trying time, Wayne will become a stronger man, a better man, for he knows he can make it so.
I'm not here for a holiday.  I'm not here for a sightseeing trip  No, this is a deeply profound and inspirational experience that I believe is clear demonstration of humanity at its finest.  Through transparency and the desire to create a positive environment, Heather and Wayne, you and me, can find a way.
Indeed, life is truly about choice.  We choose the highway that determines how we travel through our lives.  So, do we choose the highway to hell, or do we take take the highway to hope?

The Beach Of Dreams.

Cast away those dark and dreary thoughts.  Set sail upon the sea that takes you to the beach of dreams.  Drift along, drift along turquoise waters that caress the bow of the fair ship, 'Inspiration'.
A gentle breeze tingles your face.  Elation, anticipation, celebration, thoughts and emotions, that stir your soul.  Off in the distance, you see that beach of tropical trees, golden sands, glowing in the glory of a setting sun.
And evening becomes night.  A million stars, in a million galaxies, twinkle beyond an endless sky.  And the moon, our beautiful moon, shines down upon the sea, the ship and the shore, that beckons you to the beach of dreams.
Into a dreamy moonlit cove, the ship doth traverse.  The anchor is lowered and the fair ship Inspiration rocks back and forth, to the rhythm of the soothing, tranquil waves.  The little row boat takes you ever closer to the final destination.  Your hearts beats faster.  You sing, you laugh, you smile, you cry.  Tears of joy stream down your face, as you lie in the sand, stare up the heavens and rejoice in this moment, on the beach of dreams.
You grab a stick and write some words on moonlit sand.   Words that define the rest of your life.  The tide rolls in and washes your words, away.  Yet, those words in the sand, on the beach of dreams, will be etched in your mind, forever.