Tapestries

Today in NOTL:  Cold, pretty much seasonal...at 8 p.m. we're at  26F/-3C...but it will be warmer tomorrow.

It's been an interesting new year so far.  I spent most of it sick but am so much better.  It seems as though everyone has been sick since the holidays!  So many people have told us the same old story - got sick right after the holidays and have had a tough time getting through it.  I think I got off lucky!

Through my illness though, I have been very fortunate: my sweet cat has been sticking close to me, curling up beside me when I was in bed or on the back of my chair when I was sitting up.  She's gotten a lot calmer since January - she even lets me pet her little paws and tummy, which is new for her.  Usually she shifts her position and protects herself, but now, after 13 years, she's quite relaxed and calm as I pet her little paws and tell her what a good girl she is.  Rescue animals sure need patience, lol.

Isn't it interesting how things go in cycles?  Over the course of my illnesses, Deb has done a lot of healing work on me, for which I am profoundly grateful.  Deb used to do a lot of healing work when she was a parish priest and now she's missing it.

I totally understand that.  If you are able to relieve someone's pain, speed their return to health, and assist them to take meaningful steps to their healing, well...wow, that would be great!  I don't think I ever really had a burning desire to heal, but experiencing the difference Deb's healing efforts have made in my own life, I am more than appreciative. 

Deb has been re-evaluating the various healing modalities she's worked with over the years, seeing what has served her clients best and what has been less valuable to them.  What she has done is to refine several healing techniques and therapies, integrating them into a seamless process.

She's tried it out on me several times, most notably in November, when a cold developed into severe respiratory problems.  Even simple things would leave me gasping for air, triggering panic attacks - something I'd never ever experienced.  Debilitating and terrifying, they left me fighting to breathe and afraid to do anything that might trigger another bout of gasping.

That was the first time she used the integrated system she'd devised to assist me.  Over the course of two days, she gave me four treatments - and that was the last of the panic attacks.  I was able to move more easily, breath more deeply, and the panic attacks were gone.  Grateful didn't begin to describe my response!

So now, Deborah is planning to make herself available for healing in NOTL and the surrounding areas.  Watch the newsletter for more info!

Chocolate - yum and yuck

Today was cold, with just a bit of snow.  Windy outside at 10 p.m.

The nice thing about knowing folks who work in the restaurant biz is that you know which places are clean and good to patronize - and which are not.  We have inside scoops on many of the restaurants in Niagara-on-the-Lake and also a couple in Niagara Falls. 

If you are coming to Niagara region, we can recommend with confidence Peller Winery restaurant and the Irish Harp, and Stone Road Grill.  We have enjoyed their food and have never heard complaints about the quality of food or service from these.  They seem utterly committed to excellence, from our observation and experience. 

If you are looking for good candy, we wholeheartedly recommend Laura Secord Chocolates, located at the Pen Center in St. Catharines and Niagara Square in Niagara Falls.  In Niagara-on-the-Lake, visit the Maple Leaf Fudge shop on Queen Street.  We have enjoyed their candy and found the owners to be committed to quality and excellence in their product.  We find other candy shops to be wildly overpriced for only so-so quality candy and their products haven't always seemed freshly-made. 

I'm back at work, so be watching for a newsletter next week - and if you are not on the list, you can subscribe here.

Happy New Year, Friends!

Today in Notl:  A mild New Year's Eve today, with a high of 41F/5C and tonight's low only around 32F/0C. 

As the New Year approaches, I am considering what resolutions to make, if any.  Of course, the usual tempt me: lose weight, be more organized, take time for self, let my nails grow out, etc. etc.  They don't appeal, though, as they all focus on what I'm doing wrong.  So I asked the Angels for input.  "What should I focus on in this new year?" I asked.

I was rather surprised to hear the answer.  "Enjoy yourself more," they told me.  I wondered if they meant for me to spend more time in play.  They approved of playtime, as they approve of all things that increase our joy, but that was not what they meant.

"Enjoy your Self more," they explained.  "Celebrate your self in your human imperfection and struggles as well as in your successes.  Enjoy your talents and skills, but enjoy your development and growth as well, despite the challenges they create.  Enjoy the personality you wear in your human guise, and enjoy the aspects of your eternal spirit that occasionally rise to the surface.  Enjoy your Self, for Creator does so, always!"

So.  Enjoy the Whoever-we-are-ness of ourselves.  It's not always easy to enjoy the Jean-ness of me, but I will try harder.

And, in all my Jean-ness, I am not satisfied with only that resolution, so I think I will devote more time to my Etsy shop (absolutejeanius.etsy.com) and art generally.  That should keep me out of trouble!

We Angel Ladies with a Happy New Year to all, and may the new year bring you only blessing!  You - our clients, customers, friends, and visitors - are in our prayers every day without fail.

Now for New Year's!

Today in NOTL:  Cold and cloudy, with noon temps 22F/-5C, but the wind makes it feel more like 9F/-13C - brrr!

There's no snow forecast for today, but I'm seeing a snowflake every few seconds out there...so who knows?  It reminds me of snowfall back home in Louisiana when I was a very young child.  I remember Mama calling me to the window where she held my sister, only a few months old, and telling me  it was snowing.  I didn't see any snow but she encouraged me to look harder for something white in the air.  It took awhile but I finally saw a flake or two falling before it turned to rain. Other years, it was easy to see the snow, and in a few memorable years, it was a respectable snowfall even by Canadian standards.

Had an interesting experience: a long-time client booked a reading and asked to use her time for a part-year ahead reading.  In the thirty minutes, we covered six months.  It made sense to me, as the farther you move from the present,the more outside energies affect the course of events, making near-time readings more accurate than longer term.  I loved her idea so much that I gave her the reading free! 

In a usual Year-Ahead reading, the first three months are usually studied in greatest depth, with subsequent months focusing more and more on the supportive and obstructive energies of each.  At my client's request, we spent nearly equal time on all six months and it worked beautifully.  The price was considerably less expensive than a full Year-Ahead reading, too, at less than half the cost.  If you're interested, check my Year-Ahead Readings page. 

In other news...Keep watching my Etsy page...I'll be uploading a few items today and this week.  First to upload is a set of three 4x5 canvas collages which honour the stages of a woman's growth and which also reflect the maiden/mother/crone aspects, if you see the stages in that light. 

I was delighted to observe an artist friend examining the piece, thinking it was encaustic (covered in wax).  It isn't - I have been working to develop a sealing method that would have the look of wax without its fragility.  I know, I know: wax artworks have survived the centuries, that's true.  BUT wax is subject to deterioration due to heat, scratches, denting, etc.  All art is fragile to some extent, but I just don't like the idea of the sealant adding another layer of fragility to an artwork I've laboured over for many -in this case- weeks. 

So, that will be going up as well as some hand-painted original bookmarks.  I have really enjoyed painting them over the past month or two, and gave a few as Christmas gifts.  The wonderful reception they received has encouraged me to offer them via the web.  I'll be offering a few other items as well, so check it out!

The Angels' End of the Year Message

Today in NOTL:  Cold with noonish temps a breezy 37F/3C under cloudy grey skies

Message for the End of the Year

Dear Ones,
After the festivities of your holiday, you experience the angst of the year's ending. You prepare to welcome the new year with joy, but within your heart is the inevitable tallying of the year now closing.

What have you accomplished? What have you failed to do? What dreams have lain untended, what goals unmet? As such thoughts fill your mind, it is easy for you to become morose and regretful.

Beloveds, there is no cause for regret!

Everything in your life serves the great and noble purpose of your growth and development, of your greater appreciation for and alignment to Love. Of necessity, then, even those actions which disappoint you are not mistakes but merely steps along your path to greater wisdom.

As you look back upon the year now ending, it is good to recommit to the goals and dreams you have not yet brought to life. Do not stop at this point, Beloveds, but continue examining your life.

What loving actions have you taken? What efforts have you made to better the world in which you live? How deeply have you cared? What sacrifices have you made for the good of others, and how vigilantly have you regarded yourself through eyes of loving appreciation and
understanding? How well have you loved yourself and others?

Beloveds, remain grounded in love, regarding all things through this benign lens, and you have much indeed to celebrate!

A Gift at Christmas

Merry Christmas, everyone!  Here is a story from my early teaching days, a story of the tremulous beauty of a child's trust and innocence.  I hope you enjoy it.

It was the late 70s, and I was a young white teacher in a school riddled with problems.  The facilities were poorly maintained, the ‘old guard’ among the faculty were shockingly blase, and the racial tensions among the black, white, and native American students often escalated into serious fights involving many students. 

Having been raised relentlessly democratic by my parents, taught to respect all people and to look out for those on the fringe, the underdogs, I entered my classroom filled with ideals that frankly amused the teacher next door - a man with nearly twenty years experience who prided himself on doing as little work as he could. “Don’t wear yourself out,” he advised me.  “The A students will get make sure they get their A’s, the flunkies will keep on flunking.”  He shrugged. 

His casual dismissal of the students floored me, which only made me part of his routine when I entered the lounge at my planning period.  The last hour planning period was a plum planning time, and the other teachers were all veterans who’d ‘earned’ the perk.  The teacher I replaced had been one of them but since her promotion to the central office had been made after scheduling had been completed, I had inherited her schedule with its prized end-of-day planning period. 

If a school could have a happy hour, the last hour planning period was it.  Little work was done by the vets, who chose to chat and party before going home.  They viewed me as a newbie to be enriched by their perspective , and my neighbour teased me mercilessly for my idealism, working habits, and passion for teaching. “Here comes Porche,” he’d say.  “She’s going to change the world, starting with 110 [my classroom number].   Come sit here and change mine!”  He’d leer teasingly and pat the chair beside him while the others would laugh at my red face.  And so it went.

In the classroom, I devoted myself to teaching not only reading but respect.  I taught ladies and gentlemen, I asked for rather than demanded their participation, I recognized a raised hand with ‘Yes, sir?’ or ‘Yes, ma’am?’  I looked for opportunities to apologize to students, something other teachers seemed never to do.  I was determined to have a classroom in which every student felt affirmed, validated, and free to risk trying - so many had given up long before I met them.  In a school where my students - all too familiar with abuse and violence and disrespect already - were at the mercy of teachers like my neighbour whose casual dismissal and racism went unchallenged by the establishment, it wasn’t easy. 

My dad was a union man who taught me that there were no small jobs, only small minds. The behaviours of other teachers at my school offended me, frankly, when I saw the state of their classrooms.  Trash cans overflowed, with trash paper in corners, in aisles, spilling from the shared desks.  The students, copying the behaviour of their teachers, treated the cleaning staff like servants; I hated seeing the men and women silently pushing the soft mops down the hall, ignored by staff and students. 

Not here, I promised myself.  Not in 110.  All paper went into the trash can and when it filled, I sent a volunteer to empty it into the large can at the end of the hall.  Paper on the floor?   If it was large enough to see, it was large enough to pick up and place in the trash can.  “The cleaner is not your mama and not your servant,” I told the students.  “She’s a working woman and deserves respect.  We show her respect by making her job easier when we can and thanking her for her work on our behalf.”

It was a new idea for them.  Like the teachers, they called her by her first name, something which in the South was recognized as a mark of familiarity or low status.  I knew which it was, and I didn’t like it, so I called all the cleaning staff by title and surname.  After all, they called no teacher by his or her first name, so why should we not accord them the same respect?  The cleaners pooh-poohed the formal terms of address, but I was firm: I was setting an example. 

All was not love-light-peace, though.  My students were understandably suspicous, and my own stubborn personality did not allow me to overlook in one what I could address in another.  Nor did it allow me to back away from a confrontation.  Eventually, though, they realized that, firm as I was - and by firm I mean  absolutely unyielding when I felt I was right - I was committed to fair play, equality, and the students  themselves. 

Some of the students got it quickly and became supporters; other students, more beaten by life, were slower to recognize my sincerity.  One student, Robert, had gotten it quickly.  A small boy, he faced some backlash for what other boys viewed as capitulation, but he was undaunted. 

By Christmas, the room was festive with bright colours and sparkles.  The mood was warm and relaxed as we worked our way through Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, with a promise to let them watch an authentic version - as opposed to a cartoon version - when we finished.

One day, Robert came in bubbling with excitement. “Guess what, Miss Po’?” he asked.  Beaming, he told me that he was part of a small group of singers who would be performing at the Christmas service at his church.  “We’re going to sing, ‘Children, Go Where I Send Thee,’” he finished proudly. 

I congratulated him and commented that I was not familiar with that particular carol.  “It’s a spiritual,” he corrected me.  “I can sing it for you,” he offered.  I was delighted and accepted gladly, telling the class to quiet down for a holiday treat.

Robert went to the front of the class, calling a few names as he went.  “Y’all come help me sing,” he ordered.  “Y’all go to my church, you know it.”  They demurred, hesitant to have their worlds blend in 110. 

One of my girls got up.  “I’ll sing with you.  C’mon, boy,” she demanded, passing a few slaps to reluctant fellows as she went to the front of the room.  In a moment, I had five black children standing hesitantly beside Robert, who took expert control. 

“Y’all clap with me,” he told the class and began to clap.  Then he began to sing the old song. I caught my breath with the purity of the children’s innocence as they sang, these children who knew far too much about sex and drugs, who had personal experience of violence and racism and inhumanity - yet who sang with a touching hope that hadn’t yet died.

The doorway filled with passers by who stopped to listen, and we all clapped enthusiastically when they finished. “Encore! Encore!” I called, explaining that I wanted them to sing it again.

They did, joined by a few of the students who’d refused earlier.  This time they sang with even greater ease and comfort as they swayed and sang to our clapping, Robert doing a solo that would have done any Gospel singer proud. 

Applauding, I went to the front of the room to shake their hands and thank them. “Aw, Lord, we made Miss Po’ cry!” exclaimed one of the girl singers. 

“I only cry when something is really really REALLY good,” I told her and the beaming singers returned to their seats.  I settled the class - who wanted to spend the hour singing instead of reading - reflecting that I too had been sent, sent to these young people for whom it was safer not to care.     

We got back to Dickens, although I think he played second fiddle after my students had gifted us with their song.  Of all the holidays I celebrated with my students, this shining day was the best: the day my kids opened a door and let me peek into the tender hearts they hid so carefully.

Here is a children's choir singing the same song.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve in Niagara-on-the-Lake:  clear, sunny, 32F/0C.

In honour of Deb's dislike of The Christmas Shoes song...

The Christmas BoozeThe Christmas Shoes

Comin’ up on Christmas eve, here I’m waitin’ in a stupid line
Looking for a hostess gift, wondering if I dare to skip out
Standing right in front of me, a well-dressed fellow anxiously
looking around, a bit confused
and in his hands he held some Christmas booze.

And his clothes were rich and fine,
every hair combed into place,
And when it was his turn to pay
I couldn’t believe what I heard him say.

“Miss, I want to buy this booze for my vicar please
It’s Christmas Eve and this booze is just her brand.
Could you hurry, please, I’ve got a long way to go
You see, she’s been ticked for quite a while
and I know some brandy would make her smile
And I want her to be mellower when she says Midnight Mass tonight.”

He set toonies down in a tidy stack
Then the cashier said, “Three more bucks you lack,”
He searched his pockets frantically
then he turned and he looked at me
He said, “Our vicar is the over-worked kind.
She needs some help so she can unwind.
Tell me, Sir, now what the hell can I do?
Somehow I’ve got to buy her this Christmas booze!”

So I lay the three bucks down, I just had to help him out.
I’ll never forget the look on his face when he said,
“Vicar’s gonna be so stewed!”

Miss, I want to buy this booze for my vicar please
It’s Christmas Eve and Hennessy X.O.’s her brand.
Could you hurry, please, I’ve gotta get to church on time-
You see, she’s been ticked for quite a while
and I know cognac would make her smile
And I want her to be mellower when she says Midnight Mass tonight.

I knew heaven's love was smooth like Hennessey
as he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that stressed vicar
To remind mewhat Christmas is all about.
@ 2011 The Angel Ladies