Sunday, April 20, 2014


"Make these broken weary bones rise to dance again..."

The above is a line from a song called Garments of Praise that I often reflect upon during Easter weekend. Regardless of our spiritual beliefs, the story of Easter gives us hope that people can be re-born and lives can change no matter the situation. We're reminded of our own crosses, and if we're open enough, we might even feel a gentle nudge from... somewhere... reminding us that we're never alone, that there is a plan for our lives, and that the weight of the things we bear can be made lighter by asking for help.  Humanity, so loved by our Creator, is reminded on this day that we too can rise again. In fact, I often wonder if that's the ultimate gift we have the power to give back in this life; to rise up, rise forward, and rise above forces and situations that conspire to bring us down and take us away from a place of love - for others, but mostly for ourselves.

To be able to gaze unabashedly into a reflection of our own lives, and stare lovingly across at ourselves with no judgement or criticism - when we can do that, it becomes so much easier to suspend judgements about others. And when we get out of ego and get out of judgement, we are gifted in return with Peace.

If only it were that easy, right? But as I sit and puzzle through my thoughts, I become consciously aware that the peace I seek is constantly plagued by road blocks. Those things that effect my personal journey and take me from one path to the next. One day it all seems perfect. Everything is going just right - sometimes over a long period of time - and then, seemingly from out of the blue, a slow unraveling begins.

It happens to all of us and because we're each so different, the things that unravel me may not be the things that unravel you, and so on. But the interesting point is that when we have lessons to learn about the things that keep us from peace, teachers will appear in our lives; and they're not always the  ones we refer to as our favourites.

Lately, my most powerful teachers have been my critics. People who seem hell bent on reminding me in ways both big and small that I don't quite measure up. Like today when some guy named Mohammad went off the rails on me over a recipe for cheese bread I posted via my YouTube cooking channel CHARMED. He called it a " salty waste of time" and, though I know it seems silly to get bent out of shape over bread (with fresh herbs and cheddar, thank you very much) - this one came at the tail end of another more hurtful review recently delivered in my professional life; one that I have been giving too much of my time and energy to. 

The kicker is, I can't tell you how many people love my recipes, or the programs I develop and deliver for work because for me it doesn't matter. In my life it just seems to take that one fly in the proverbial ointment to ruin it all. And it's always when I'm riding high that those particular bugs crawl out of the woodwork.

Although on most days I'm a self assured person who could care less whether or not Mohammad likes my bread, we each have times in our lives when things hurt a little bit deeper - because, truly, it's never about the bread. It's about how we feel about ourselves - the person making the bread - that informs our reactions.

"Make these broken weary bones rise to dance again..."

Our lives are informed by our past and our experiences; and somewhere within my being - the person who believes that kick ass self acceptance is the only state of mind in which to live our lives - I'm being reminded by my six year old self that it isn't always that easy. No matter our age, the pieces from our childhood left broken and unhealed tend to re-visit us throughout our lives; re-creating the same feelings of pain and abandonment we felt as little kids. "Do they like me?" we ask ourselves when we meet somebody new. "Am I good enough?" we wonder as we gaze upon lives that seem more fulfilled or more happy than our own, and "Do I belong?"

And it's on those days I'm reminded to thank the Mohammad's of this world because with every nudge and every criticism, I'm given an opportunity to heal myself. I'm given a second chance. Though arrived at in an arduous or painful way, in the end I have been given an opportunity for resurrection. To rise up, and out, and above.

And so it goes.

Happy Easter!


  1. Lyndsay, you are truly a deep thinker, very insightful and soul searching. I love the way you contemplate and dissect situations and emotions. I have always tried to take the high road and be the peacemaker in situations when faced with conflict, but it is always the blunt, rude and insensitive comments that take the wind out of my sails too. You have a way of expressing so eloquently the best path to higher ground. You triumph over adversity by being the wonderful, kind, yet strong person you are, by turning every situation into a learning experience. Lyndsay if I were every in trouble I would want you as my negotiator and counselor.

    1. Thank you so much Merrilee. I swear, this weekly blog is becoming a bit of therapy for me :-) Much love and appreciation to you!!

  2. "...because, truly, it's never about the bread."
    Nope, it rarely is.
    I love reading your blog Lyndsay. It makes me think in ways that I have not thought in a long time, ways I thought I had forgotten.
    Thank you.

    1. You are so welcome Nancy, and thank you for your kind words. They are appreciated.