"Who can hope to be safe? who sufficiently cautious? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush." ~ Horace

We were packing the car for a drive into the city when I asked my husband not to put items in the backseat with the baby; in case there was an accident the items potentially could fly around and hit our son. He asked me why I was always thinking negatively. I defended myself saying I was being responsible not negative. I felt justified in my response but once we got on the road I began to ponder the truth. If we truly do create the world we live in with our thoughts then isn’t my partner correct in his opinion of my thoughts creating the “unsafe” world around me? Who says it’s unsafe? Common sense…or the media tells me there is potential danger on our roads and anyone who’s ever been in a collision or lost a loved one will agree. Statistics tell us we are more likely to survive a car accident if we have a seatbelt on, something so simple can make such a difference so why ignore it?

It will be an interesting balance as we migrate back to India where the safety concerns of the West play little to no role. Families pile into cars, even onto motorcycles without hesitation. My father in-law loads the kids each morning, four of them from the age of 2 to 12 onto his and whisks them off to the corner store for candy. My husband as well takes the children for rides all the time, my friends and family gasp at this idea but I remind them I was six months old the first time my uncle put me on his motorcycle and toured me around the neighborhood, so why would I ever deny my son that experience?

I chose to have a child who could be raised partially in India because of the freedom children there still have to be kids. They roam and play without an adult constantly hovering around, they get into trouble and explore their own limits discovering them, not adopting those set by their parents.

I would roam the woods near our home as child, alone with nature, I knew to come home when the street lights came on, I had no cell phone and if my mom needed me urgently she stood in our doorway and yelled my name until I heard her, she never panicked if I didn’t come instantly. Sometimes the world I was discovering was just too intoxicating and she’d have to call my name for an hour before it would penetrate my senses and call me back to reality. Some argue the world is a different place now but I argue for every negative story you hear in the news there are one hundred wonderful events that haven’t been mentioned.

I want my son to enjoy being a child for as long as possible, and I hope my husband can continue to remind me not to put my fears on my son. I know we will find balance as our son will inevitably fall down, experience skinned knees, cry, feel fear, but I know more often he will laugh, enjoy, and marvel in shear delight at the world around him. He only gets to be a ‘kid’ for so long and that precious time of fearlessness, as we can remember, is all too short. I will use my instincts as a mother to guide him and keep him from serious harm, a safety net per say but not a bubble.



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The task of becoming one with source is a labor of love

I spent the week in Annapolis Valley Nova Scotia, it’s a rural area where most of our provinces farming is done. There are lush rolling hills, fields filled with Mother Nature’s Bounty and an ease with the way of life that these sleepy little towns that make up “the valley” operate.

I used my time to relax, write and share laughter with loved ones. My family own horses so we headed to the barn where I fed them their favorite treats (apples and salt licks.) I watched these magnificent beasts in awe, their shear power would be enough to injure anyone who crossed their path yet the gentle playfulness these creatures encompassed always warms my heart, I could see the love flowing from them.

I went berry picking for the very first time in my life, something that has been on my bucket list for years! Walking through the field at one of the various u-picks in the area I felt the warmth of the sun caressing my body; the raspberry bushes were high and filled with juicy treats. Each time I picked one (filling at least a half-dozen containers) I felt more alive, I could actually feel energy coursing through my veins. I became one with mother earth, she was sharing her treasures with me and although I have always taken a moment to appreciate my food before ingesting it something inside of me became more connected to earth’s presence as a living entity than ever before. I thanked each bush as I gently pulled berries from their buds, bees buzzed around, thorns grazed my hands and snakes slithered by; all things that normally would have annoyed, frustrated or even scared me in the past suddenly came together in one cosmic dance of universal harmony.

I went for dinner with my mother and three of her dearest friends; sitting with these auntiji’s once again I was inspired. As the consciousness shift begins to take place you never know who is going to evolve and who will standstill, these beautiful goddesses are flowing with the change. Working through relationships with self and finding new balance around them. Their hard hitting questions as they inquired about all of the changes this past year brought forth came from a place of divine love and I was grateful for the opportunity to once again analyze and re-affirm my truth, if even just to myself.

The biggest lesson of the week was in my growing ability to manifest exactly what I want and need to further myself in this life. My faith continues to grow in God on a regular basis. I’ve been asking the universe for a space to write freely. I believe if I go into seclusion for a month I can have my first novel finished, turns out one of those auntiji’s is heading out of town for a month and her comfy cottage style home needs someone to love it and guess who she thought of instantly?

Happiness can exist only in acceptance of what is

For the last three weeks I’ve felt like a fish out of water trying to adapt back to a culture that I never really felt comfortable in to begin with. I sat in India daydreaming about what Canada had to offer that wasn’t available and being pregnant that mostly consisted of food and since returning I’ve eaten like a ravenous monster. In doing so I’ve had a reaction, doctors are shaking their heads in confusion and writing it off as one of those ‘pregnancy things” but I (along with some beautiful insights from guides, mentors and healers) have figured out that my body and my baby have just gotten overwhelmed with the bombardment. I’ve gone to town on processed foods and sweets, a luxury that doesn’t exist in my humble life in India and now I am paying the price. So I’m happy to announce wonderful progress has been made with the pain I was dealing with in last week’s blog but now I search for answers on why this rather annoying rash has manifested.

Food is an obvious variant between the two cultures and I have eaten epic amounts of what I once would have considered “comfort” foods. I can’t help but notice the irony as I suffer through this intolerable itch. I realize how disillusioned I had been with what the ‘comforts’ of the west had to offer me. I’m used to eating simple, local foods, which means most of our meals in India consist of one or two vegetarian dishes with chapatti (flat bread).  My mind in India was growing increasing bored with daily cuisine and I longed for veggie burgers, chips and dip and chocolate bars that were larger than the Halloween size found throughout our bazaars. So after bingeing and not finding comfort I’m back to preparing the simple foods I have grown accustomed to in India, minus the bread which I cannot seem to master on an electric stove!

Another area I was excited to find solace in was blending into the crowd. I’ve gotten used to people staring at me abroad, I understand I’m a foreigner, which in itself offers intrigue but add traditional Indian dress and the markings of a Hindu bride and it’s an open invitation for gawkers. In my daydream about Canada I was looking forward to the multicultural faces roaming the streets and blending in quite easily. This hasn’t been the case, because I continue to wear the markings of an Indian wife; sindoor in my parted hairline and a bindi I’m still getting curious looks from passerby’s. 

Holistically an itchy rash often occurs because there is something we are “itching to do” and in my case I think it’s time for me to accept that I am foreign not only in India but even in my birth country. The quicker I accept, appreciate and celebrate that I will always be different, the sooner this rash may disappear…or maybe I just need to change my laundry detergent.

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Befriending pain and listening to it's wisdom...

I’ve been in Canada for two weeks and as much as I’ve enjoyed my time I’ve been dealing with some intense pain. I believe it was triggered by the long flight from India and perhaps aggravated by the baby getting his/her feet under my ribs. I’m fortunate to have wonderful healers in my life who’ve provided me with massage, adjustments and healing energy. As I lay on the massage table receiving my second treatment it dawned on me that perhaps God was helping to prepare me for giving birth.

This pain I’m working through is the worst I’ve felt in my life and now I’m seeing it as a gift for deepening my threshold. I understand labor is going to be something I can’t even begin to comprehend until I experience it and learning to breathe through this ‘minor’ pain has been a test. I’ve been overwhelmed and even terrified at moments wondering how I’m going to be able handle something more intense than this but when panic lingered at the edge of my consciousness trying to find entry I remembered my mantra and begin reciting it. By focusing my mind on Bhakti (devotion/unconditional love) my breath became steady and a sense of peace entered my heart, a tool I will surely use in the delivery room.

In another massage as trigger points were worked I felt my body fight to shut down in attempts to hide from the pain. During labor I’ve been told shutting down is the mistake many new moms make, it has potential to prolong the process; the key is opening in spite of the pain.  I took a deep breath and let the pain have its moment, within seconds my body relaxed.

I wish I could tell you all that I’ve been pain free since these experiences but that’s not the case. I know there’s a lesson but I’m frustrated, as a holistic healer myself I’m supposed to have the answers and I can’t seem to get into the truth of what’s going to relive me. I’ve opened myself up to the universe asking for divine guidance and followed the prompts but still the pain lingers.

That being said as I write this I hear the whisper of my inner voice saying “slow down”. The two weeks since I’ve arrived have been a whirlwind. I haven’t spent any time time writing, using the pain as an excuse to avoid my computer. I haven’t been on my yoga mat and meditated only three or four times. I’ve allowed myself to get caught up in a cycle of just trying to pass time with distractions, using the pain as an excuse. The truth is I miss my partner and India more than I’ve admitted to myself. I’ve been scared to feel it because I didn’t want to take away from my Canadian experience. I thought I was cultivating presence but really I’ve just tapped into another form of distraction; pain as an excuse to avoid my truth….

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You don't have to go looking for love when love is where you come from

It’s been two weeks since I posted last, life has been a bit of a whirlwind. I ended up with a cold (upper respiratory) and although it’s change of season in India and most of my family is walking around with fevers, sniffles and coughs I know a big part of the reason I came down with the symptoms is stress. Louise L Hay in her book “You Can Heal Your Life” says colds are caused by “mental disorder and confusion” and I admit that was my life leading up to it.

My Indian visa expired August 2nd and my partner and I had to make a choice on what course of action to take. We decided it would be best for me to head to Canada for a visit with my family, get a pregnancy checkup from my doctor, take the time to concentrate and finish my novel and meet with my agent, within the two months before I can apply for a reentry visa, and so I write today from my family’s home in Canada with mixed emotions.

Saying goodbye to my Indian family was harder than I expected. I had been looking forward to a break and get around some western comforts but as I reached the gate of our home to get into the car awaiting to whisk me off to the airport I broke down into tears. My family stood wiping tears from their eyes as we hugged. It was sad but in retrospect so uplifting, I now understand how much they love me and have fully accepted me as part of their family, at times my ego would like to have me believe they only tolerate me, but leaving for my journey to Canada I realized how much they have tucked me comfortably deep within their hearts, how much I am their family.

Being away from my partner I feel like part of me is missing, as cliché as that sounds, it is the truth. It is like someone cut off a part of my body, my soul and its missing presence is undeniable. Instead of wallowing I am doing my best to embrace the opportunity of being back in the west, remembering certain parts of myself that perhaps I have lost in the last six months. My life between India and Canada has always been about trying to find the sacred balance between east and west, and I know me being back here is God’s plan to help me achieve that goal.

Waking up this morning I grounded myself into my Canadian experience, when sadness threatened to consume me after hearing my partner’s voice on the phone, I diverted my mind by embracing the emotion as another beautiful reminder of the truth In our love. It’s hard to be apart but this is an opportunity for this spiritual warrior to find even more balance on my sacred path. Looking forward to the insights this voyage will bring…

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Can my truth hurt others?

After last week’s blog about conditioned responses I received a comment “Genuine with a touch of common sense so as not to hurt others with the truth” this sparked an interesting internal dialogue for me. How can my truth hurt others?

I thought about the differences in the two cultures I’ve been living in. Canadians are very concerned about hurting one another’s feelings, on a profound level this can often lead many people to denying their own truth in an effort to shield those they love. They don’t realize the damage they are doing to themselves and to those they are trying to ‘protect.’ But that’s a whole other blog.

I never fully comprehended how sensitive I was until I moved to India. Here there is a frankness amongst the people back in Canada we would describe as ‘brutally honest’. I joke with my girlfriends back home, if you think your butt looks big in your jeans then don’t ask an Indian boy cause he’ll tell you it does if indeed it does (and truthfully, you already know the answer.) I have not come across anyone who offers “white lies” here, there is no ‘sugarcoating’ or as Indians call it no ‘oiling’ the truth. They don’t worry about what others reactions might be they just tell it like it is in their opinion. Many times I felt tears welling up based on something my partner or family commented on. I felt like I was being picked on but as my heart grows stronger I realize that each time I take offence to what has been said to me, it’s an ego reaction and a beautiful chance for continued spiritual growth. Living in the India with this new version of truthfulness I’ve really had to walk the walk when it comes to one of my favorite quotes; “You can’t control other people’s actions only your reactions to them.”

I wondered if it is actually hurting us to tiptoe around our truth in Canada under the guise of politeness. If being raised to be polite we are somehow weakening our ability to hear the truth without ego getting in the way. It leaves us unsure of whom we really are without the approval, acceptance and acknowledgment from others. After days of contemplative meditation I believe it all stems from a lack of knowing our soul, the disconnection we have from God-self, the most authentic part of ourselves. Once we tap into that and begin the healing process of reconnecting back to our most authentic self there is nothing anyone can do or say that can truly hurt us. Our heart and soul can never really be hurt by anyone else’s truth only our egos perception of it. Our truth is ours to live freely and joyously. We can all live in harmony by accepting we are all different and each version, of each individual’s truth, is right for them and more importantly not ours to take offense from.

"Tears are God’s gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow." ~Rita Schiano

My ten year old nephew’s birthday party was this week. About twenty kids, a mix of boys and girls ranging in age from two to fifteen. There was the traditional cake with candles, everyone clapping and singing “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...” until the last person gave up, the song never did quite finish the way it would have in Canada. He blew out the candles on his pink cake and everyone handed him his gifts. In India you place the gift from your right hand into the right hand of the recipient, it is not customary for the presents (on any occasion) to be opened, they are sat off to the side.

There were no chips or pop, the usual standards of junk food strategically placed around the home were nowhere to be found but the smell coming from the kitchen was heavenly. The food was served after nine at night as the culmination of the party. Indians take great pride in their cooking and often refuse to serve anything that is not homemade; we ate until we were ready to burst.

The children happily spent the better part of the party dancing along to the latest Bollywood music videos. The boys along with girls seemed to know every lyric and accompanying dance move. It was beyond adorable to watch, the freedom and enjoyment these young boys take in expressing themselves is something I have loved about this culture from my very first visit.

I think because of this freedom it has been my experience that Indian men are very much in touch with their emotions, they dance when the mood strikes and even more beautiful they feel and express all their emotions. The majority have never been told to that it’s not okay to cry, allowing themselves to cry when they are sad, even if it’s just while watching a sappy love story.

In Canada where boys are often told that it is not ok to cry, to toughen up, they learn to suppress their emotions early on. According to statistics Canada there is a heart attack every 7 minutes and heart disease accounts for thirty percent of all male deaths, here in India only 11% of the population is at risk. A spiritual perspective is that a heart attack happens when one can no longer feel the prompts of their heart center.

Every soul needs to find the right balance for them; personally I feel this comes with the ability to be tough enough to handle the perils of the world yet soft enough to feel the subtlest whispers of your heart, this may be the key to long lasting health and happiness.

Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all

I love food, the more aware I become of what I am putting into my body the more fascinated I am by the fact that it will actually become my body. The energy that goes into food is equally important; from the happiness of the workers on the farms to love you add as the secret ingredient to any recipe, I always say a prayer before eating sending thanks to everyone who has come into contact with my food and Mother Earth for providing her bounty.

I have loved Indian food from the moment I tasted it and living in India has only showered me with gift of so many new dishes I now have in my repertoire. But if I’m being completely honest I am starting to miss some of the multicultural flavors life in Canada afforded me. Now that being said just when I think I’m completely bored with the food I’m introduced to something I have never had before and my tastebuds come alive with excitement and I instantly have a new favorite!

I’m often asked “what do you cook in Canada?” Everyone is always pleased when they find out I am vegetarian but the question isn’t easy to answer. Growing up with a mother who loved to experiment in the kitchen I developed a very diverse palate from an early age. I try to explain that I cook just about everything depending on my mood. But some people in India haven’t heard of (let alone tried) Polish perogies, Mexican burritos or Thai peanut curry. The occasional time I can find the right ingredients to create something from the mosaic of flavors from one of the cultures I have been exposed to my Indian family turns their nose up. At first I felt hurt by their reaction, ‘be more open’ I thought impatiently but then I remembered my Korean friends prefer Korean food while my Italian friends parents cook Italian every day of the week. I treasure having been exposed to a cornucopia of diversity it makes me adventurous when it comes to trying anything ‘different.’

What I do love is noticing the things that appear odd in comparison to how we eat certain foods. For instance chowmein; they add chili sauce, now this doesn’t come as any big surprise but ketchup then goes on top of that, then again I’ve seen people in Canada put ketchup on just about everything so why not chowmein? They also love salt and salty drinks. I can honestly say I had never tasted a salty drink before arriving in India and it’s not something I enjoy very much. Lassi (almost like a milkshake) is traditionally made sweet and salty, there is soda water with fresh squeezed lemon in which salt is added (my favorite sans salt) I’ve even witnessed locals add salt to ‘Thumbs Up’ which is the Indian version of Coke or Pepsi. It makes me wonder what they might see as strange in Canadian eating habits?

I take a deep breath and flow through the challenges

I didn’t post last week because I’ve been sick with diarrhea; my family insisted I go to the hospital. It afforded me a whole new appreciation for the Canadian health care system. People were scattered everywhere, sitting on benches, standing in the halls and there were three other women in the examination room with me, the doctor directed one lady to lay on the table then proceeded to ask how long I had been suffering.

Without taking my blood pressure or examining me on any level, no questions about current medications or if I have allergies to any type of drugs she prescribed four pills. As someone who rarely heads to the doctor let alone takes pharmaceuticals I was concerned. When I reached home I immediately went to internet to research what I had been given, it wasn’t as bad as I had assumed. An acidophilus, a b-complex, electrolytes and an antibiotic, I was confused as to why she gave me an antibiotic when she didn’t do any testing to determine a bacterial infection but this is India and I figured if anyone specialized in dealing with diarrhea it would be the doctors of this country.

I had slipped away from my meditation practice so I decided to head to the roof determine what was truly happening in my body. As I sat in the stillness I began to cry. I was overwhelmed, so much change in such a short period, it was classic culture shock. Something I had been through as a teenager while living in Jamaica. The romantic light I had seen India in had given way to a distorted reality. I longed for my family, mourned my old way of life, I was even missing the very things I had prayed to get away from in Canada; heading to the pub to have beers with friends, shopping malls and fast food to name a few. Each time I was faced with something ‘different’ from my native land anger flared, the things I had been intrigued by now feared, I was frustrated with the language and a sensation of being trapped exacerbated the condition.

Sitting on the roof I caught my breath, my heart’s voice whispered “everything is fine, you are exactly where you want and need to be right now, spend time each day in silence to process all of this change, everything is perfect, you are shedding a part of you that no longer serves.” Birds began singing and I smiled as peace washed over me. Deep down I was happy, happier then I had been in a very long time but an unhealthy ego can wreck havoc on your entire system.

This inner work along with most change is painful at times but suffering only occurs when we don’t take time to appreciate it. Finding the balance between what was and what is, what I think I want and what I truly want is all part of having a balanced soul.

Let the past go, it's time to move on.

So here it is…my blog. It’s amazing how nervous I feel putting my writing (and life) out here to be judged. I’m doing it for a number of reasons but mainly because of the continuous requests from family, friends and even acquaintances, I guess somehow I am living a life that intrigues them. I’m from a small province in Canada and a few years ago I was on the verge of a breakdown, to quote Oriah Mountain Dreamer “I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t alive. I was suspended in a near life experience.” Walking around in this haze I begged the universe for a sign, to point me in the right direction and like anytime I surrendered asking a higher force for help I was prompted time and time again until I finally listened. First a friend who had applied for Law school was waiting for her admission results, when I asked her what she would do if she didn’t get accepted she replied “take a trip to India” something inside me stirred. A week later I was sitting in front of the television eating a tub of ice cream feeling sorry for myself when the haunting sound of devotional chanting brought tears to my eyes, I broke down on the sofa as I let the Sanskrit mantras call to my heart. I picked up a copy of “Eat Pray Love” and as I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s story I decided right then and there I would take a few months off and travel to this sacred land. I searched online to find an ashram but was overwhelmed by the choices so again I reverted to prayer. “Umm God, I was wondering if you can help me figure out where I am supposed to go once in India?” That day I received an e-mail from a friend, it held a link to a Yoga Course. I booked my plane ticket.

This blog is not about that adventure (that adventure is in my novel which is three quarters finished and I can guarantee you’ll be the first to know when it’s being published!) This blog is my present reality as I sit in Canada anxiously awaiting my visa back into the country I am now ready to call home. It took me just shy of two years to build up the courage to leave everything especially the comforts of familiarity and move to India. After four trips East I realized I was only working to get back to the land I longed to be in. So now I am ready to go into the chaos to find my peace, join me as I chronicle my spiritual adventures (or rather misadventures) as a foreigner living in a Holy city, completely immersed in the culture, doing my best to honour my Canadian roots while quenching the thirst of my heart to live the Indian way in an effort to find balance in my soul…