tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-315437872024-03-05T08:44:54.191-05:00Fate-Filled TimesAn Adventure in Self Exploration: The Honest, Raw, Truth of it all.Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31543787.post-9257531302824601182015-12-03T12:13:00.000-05:002019-03-27T17:13:45.860-04:00About the Retreat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">After months of planning, envisioning, imagining and collaborating, we held our inaugural <a href="http://www.nurtureretreats.com/" target="_blank">Nurture Retreat</a>. On the shores of Lake Simcoe, in a <a href="http://www.lorettomaryholme.ca/" target="_blank">130 year old house</a> on spiritual grounds, 11 of us (plus a ghost or two) spent two nights and 3 days focused on creativity and self care. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Loretto Maryholme is a special place. As soon as you drive on the property you feel a sense of deep peace. Time slows down and breathing becomes deeper, fuller and more free. The air is clear. The sounds are soft. The lake invites. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday afternoon, our guests trickled in while we finished pressing pashminas, clipping thorns from roses, preparing self care kits and unloading restorative yoga supplies. The grounds were explored and some took advantage of the best weather of the weekend and took a dip in the lake. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Showing guests to their rooms is a treat at Loretto Maryholme. Each room is decorated with soft colours, each bed has a different quilt, and rooms have access to a sun filled washroom with a clawfoot tub. The bath salts <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Sunfire-Herbals-854384521319777/info?tab=page_info" target="_blank">Tahlia</a> included in the self care kit were perfect to use while letting go of any unwanted burdens we brought with us. I witnessed those burdens lifting out of people over the three days - the magic of being creative in community.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday supper was a hearty homemade vegetarian chilli served with fresh corn bread in cast iron skillets. We clinked glasses of red wine as we shared across the table with our new kindred friends. Dessert was pavlova with berries - the most deliciously sweet dessert balanced with tart fruit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After we allowed our supper to settle, we nestled into our restorative yoga nests created by Tahlia. Feeling full and sleepy, the poses really felt deeply meditative and relaxing. The smells of sage and sweetgrass floated in the air. The sounds of Krishna Das and sacred chanting mantras eased our thoughts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After a solid sleep, Saturday morning rolled in grey and cool. The day started with meditation and breakfast prep. We were drawn to the kitchen by the smells of scones baking and beeswax candlelight. We gathered to drink coffee and tea and rave over the selection of scones. The delicate fresh whipped cream mixed with homemade peach and red current preserves was a natural match made in taste bud heaven.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.afinemedley.com/" target="_blank">Jess</a> set up her floral workshop while everyone had a bit of down time. When we met again, foraging baskets in hand, we set out into the grounds and looked for botanical gems. Some of us were drawn to the decay and others to the last bits of summer life in their glory. The dampness in the earth told a story of impending fall yet the gardens bursting with colour and life let us know summer's flame had not yet burned out. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">We gathered in a time of transition. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After collecting our bounty and settling in to the workshop space, we recieved instruction and pearls of wisdom. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Let the arranging be a meditation. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Let the flowers speak. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Let the imperfection be the beauty. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the arrangements! Oh my. The diversity in the shapes, fullness, colour and spark. Everyone showed their inner selves through their creations. And the pride I saw in each person to see the beauty they created and the joy it brought. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the hunger it builds in us...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lunch was set buffet style in the kitchen. A fantastic spread of buns, grilled veggies, olives, pickles, cheese, tomatoes, salsa, tortilla chips, savoury garlic and onion jam and crackers.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">We feasted. Again. We circled. We connected. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Down time was essential and we parted ways while I set up my art journaling workshop table. The table where we circled for all of our gatherings. Full of good energy and a place of comfort and expression. Our home base. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Vintage linens, sheets of floral wallpaper used as workspace placemats, stamps, paints, magazines, plates of odds and ends, words of empowerment, homemade paper packs, art journals to upcycle and women circling again to hear about how we can tell our stories visually. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">There is no such thing as making a perfect art journal. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The music swayed and we cut and pasted. Hours passed. Art journals were created. Some with titles. All with the creative fever of needing to express. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">A home base for feelings and visions to manifest. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Moving along was only necessary so we could, again, nurture our bodies with the energy of homemade food. This time, we all learned how to make pasta from scratch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">BUT FIRST...a dip in the lake. Because I promised everyone, including myself, I would jump in the lake and I could not break the promise. Tahlia and I ran to the dock and I was certain I wouldn't be brave enough to actually jump. The grass was wet with rain, the sun was setting and it was a chilly end of summer evening. When we arrived at the dock, I saw the most beautiful sight. To the left, a double rainbow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To the right, the most glorious pink and purple sunset. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The water was warm and we jumped in. We shouted for the others to join and thankfully everyone came down to the dock to see the stunning view. Sonja and Jess joined us in the water and it felt as though we got to celebrate together in the best way - with some amateur synchronized swimming and handstands. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now back to the pasta... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once I was dry and warm, folding the fresh raw egg into the flour with my bare hands felt like a kindergarten play table. Taking the time, moving with intention (after <a href="http://www.kitchenboudoir.com/" target="_blank">Sonja </a>reminded me to "be gentle" with my pasta) and forming the product with my hands made me feel much more connected to the meal ahead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After letting the dough meditate under a blanket of damp paper towel, we cut it into slices and ran it through the pasta maker. Again, back at the kindergarten play table, I used a fancy machine to shape the dough - just like I used to do as a kid with play dough. We worked as a team, each stationed on one task. It was a brilliant production line, I must say. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, the sauce. Oh my. <a href="http://www.kitchenboudoir.com/" target="_blank">Sonja</a> has a <a href="http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1015178-marcella-hazans-tomato-sauce" target="_blank">recipe </a>for the tastiest tomato sauce I have ever eaten. It cooks for a long time with a half an onion in it. A must try. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Seasonal peach crumble for dessert. Pre-yoga, if you can imagine. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Restorative yoga turned into laughing aka giggling yoga. We needed to let some energy out and it felt pretty darn good. The red wine might have contributed. But again, the sleepy restorative yoga led by ever patient Tahlia was relaxing to the point that some of us even fell asleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sunday morning began with a bit of extra sleep followed by a new moon meditation. Breakfast of shakshuka (eggs cooked on top of a tomato and red pepper sauce) wafted in the air and we happily yet reluctantly sat down for our last meal together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The final workshop led by Tahlia was a herbal delight. We made a bath salt blend and a sugar scrub. Mixing the ingredients with our hands and melting the coconut oil with our body heat was relaxing and fun. The smells of dried wild roses, coconut oil and cane sugar will live in my scent memory forever. The process of creating the sugar scrub and washing our hands afterwards turned into spa level hand treatments. We were soft, exfoliated and smelling great.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To complete the jars, we created hand stamped labels. We named our blends, knowing we were taking them home with us. We wanted to remind ourselves of the things we had learned over the weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With the programming coming to a close, we had one last sacred activity to close our circle. We walked the Labyrinth in silence. This is the one thing I'll keep mostly to myself. It was a profound spiritual experience. I was thankful to walk it with the group of 11 and to end with our own individual internal reflection. It was a beautiful send off. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we cleaned up, packed up and closed up, it was hard to say goodbye. It felt like we were there a week, but I also could have used one week more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you to my Nurture crew - Sonja, Tahlia and Jess. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you to Alyssa and Evonne, our trusting photographers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And a extra special thank you to our participants. I learned something from each one of you I will hold on to. Thank you for trusting us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Spring Nurture Retreat is <a href="http://www.nurtureretreats.com/register/" target="_blank">open for registration.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">. </span><br />
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*All photos by <a href="http://www.alyssawodabek.com/" target="_blank">Alyssa Wodabek</a> and <a href="http://www.evonnebellefleur.com/about/" target="_blank">Evonne Bellefleur</a>*<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31543787.post-6225005510779794252015-09-06T12:49:00.000-04:002019-03-27T17:16:45.198-04:00In The Fabric Of My Being<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's fascinating to look back on old blog posts and art journals and see my own words declaring my hope to become an art therapist one day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew I wanted this, but I forgot just how much. </span><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="font-size: large;">I'm pretty sure it is in my bones and in the fabric of my being.</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had so many hesitations - the money, the time, the fear of the unknown, the not feeling ready to dive back into school while working full time plus a part time side job (or two, or three, if you count canning preserves to sell locally with Tahlia and <a href="http://www.nurtureretreats.com/">Nurture: A Retreat</a>, which is one week away.) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One thing I've noticed in the patterns of my life is that I settle into one of two speeds: slow and steady or full tilt. I studied my masters in 2008/2009. Since it was a full time program, adding it to my full time job was a bit ambitious. Luckily my work is only a couple blocks from school and my boss was accommodating. I kept telling myself, it's only one year. You can do anything for only one year. Not only did I do it - classes, three placement days per week and a major research paper - I also met the love of my life. I find the full tilt pace offers an<i> energy of abundance. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My major research paper for my MSW was about art and healing. I knew it was my place. Three years later when I was researching Art Therapy schools, I came across the Vancouver Art Therapy Institute (VATI) and it gave me chills. Could I have studied locally? Absolutely. But, I somehow knew<i> I needed to go to Vancouver</i>. I applied, knowing the cost was a barrier. I asked the universe to please make the money fall from the sky. When it didn't, I was devastated. As a person of my word, it felt so weird to turn around and say, I'm not going to art therapy school. I turned away from blogging, went inward and let go of the dream. I figured it wasn't meant to be and might not ever be. Even after deferring my spot one year, I still could not manage the finances. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Three years after my initial application, the school contacted me asking if I might want to join for the 2015 cohort. I couldn't believe they were still willing to give me a shot. <i>I knew I had to go</i>. I just had to. I'm pretty sure in this situation, it was a matter of how badly do you want this and are you willing to ask for help. Even up until the last day, the day I told myself I would send the down payment, the day of the Aries new moon, I didn't have the money. The bank said no, my mom was hesitant and stressed. I didn't have anyone else to ask but my dad. I didn't want to ask him (he has the biggest heart and will give me anything he can, so I am careful about what I ask for) but I didn't know what else to do. As soon as I talked to him, he went into problem solving mode. Within hours, he called me back to say both my parents would lend me money I needed to go to school. It all came together at the final moment. My mom also kindly gave me some of her air miles to buy my ticket to Vancouver. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Even walking up to the VATI door on Granville Island in July, I still felt like it wasn't real. I was living in a dream the entire three weeks. I was there to meet my classmates and teachers and learn the studio portion of my schooling, along with ethics and family/group art therapy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I made it to the ocean, saw the mountains, painted in the studio with my 8 classmates, met a diverse group of art therapists and kind of met myself again. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I realized how much this work in ingrained in my being.</i> It feels natural and important and special and yet I am in awe of it. It took a long time to get here, but I'm here and I'm strangely glad it all happened the way it did. The longing, the waiting, the asking, the conquering. It all made this process so much more meaningful. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I enter into September, classes will commence, work gears up, placement hours will accumulate and art will be made. I've never felt so sure about something. It's taken 15 years, 3 university degrees, and a whole lot of asking and answering questions for me to get to where I am right now as a student studying art therapy. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">I don't ever want to forget how amazing this is and how lucky I am.</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, Vancouver.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, mom and dad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, art therapy.</span><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjvJma3ufLNg6GefrFm1o8BT0ul1t2RppbfuDj1QpFLwFmI0Wk0QbEwVSCeg9BldElOryLbQEcAAWHjPXNiYHVOw224_oPT8zG0lgoF4kXBtqIFRfdU-oZTbwuaAocZTWMue7/s1600/11707477_10155836420160652_2738437591675607452_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjvJma3ufLNg6GefrFm1o8BT0ul1t2RppbfuDj1QpFLwFmI0Wk0QbEwVSCeg9BldElOryLbQEcAAWHjPXNiYHVOw224_oPT8zG0lgoF4kXBtqIFRfdU-oZTbwuaAocZTWMue7/s640/11707477_10155836420160652_2738437591675607452_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></div>
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Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31543787.post-82140075471141352412015-07-26T12:06:00.000-04:002019-03-27T17:21:26.049-04:00My Dreamy Trip West<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Falling in love with BC... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd say it's impossible not to. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm living in a dream. From the moment I received the email asking if I wanted to join, to actually saying yes on the Aries new moon, to flying over Canada in tears.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here in this beautiful place, learning my heart's work with people who are sensitive and passionate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Art therapy opens the door to a whole new chapter of my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The pull was always there, but the fear slowed my pace. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Make space for the pull. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Imagine the impossible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ask for help.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Trust. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One week left to soak it all up. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The rain is falling outside my window. I'm two tea cups deep. My beach plans might be thwarted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm ridiculously grateful. </span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTD6DxB66IHzwMkifhhYHZyJaGg5qCbAfW_nK4va8rPwFXgAsK5kKRzhnpzyKLUTvlzcJOkox0Hz9yF7rXiUNh5VZ9udQNge5u97_Xvn8jR0pey18RYeDw0KUFzvoCw2eZAlha/s1600/BCtrees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTD6DxB66IHzwMkifhhYHZyJaGg5qCbAfW_nK4va8rPwFXgAsK5kKRzhnpzyKLUTvlzcJOkox0Hz9yF7rXiUNh5VZ9udQNge5u97_Xvn8jR0pey18RYeDw0KUFzvoCw2eZAlha/s640/BCtrees.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These trees are considered small.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GCKI55U7jTqDGg0krxUNMtE5vHW4DELoJGvoz7NayVMkXkWcDWxmufLX7LVBw0jQtFQJA6OrtjaIs_ni__mD9poR8jXoJ0ZOnOt5GhH1AMlk88lO18YCG4oW_X3_dbZF8mjV/s1600/IMG_7191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GCKI55U7jTqDGg0krxUNMtE5vHW4DELoJGvoz7NayVMkXkWcDWxmufLX7LVBw0jQtFQJA6OrtjaIs_ni__mD9poR8jXoJ0ZOnOt5GhH1AMlk88lO18YCG4oW_X3_dbZF8mjV/s640/IMG_7191.JPG" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overlooking English Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSG_pzzPxW6f-uZoY0prH9Z6WEnskQW7wE2-Qfe_H52thpL8dGHlydLswDAW4wl8NjW5hdnSRToJ-1Z9ouzF6LNoMmFl2Cur7ub1r8OGNQE3vLG7LxYL5wGJYS46MHFODiNpHB/s1600/11751743_10155838663270652_708842254891123229_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSG_pzzPxW6f-uZoY0prH9Z6WEnskQW7wE2-Qfe_H52thpL8dGHlydLswDAW4wl8NjW5hdnSRToJ-1Z9ouzF6LNoMmFl2Cur7ub1r8OGNQE3vLG7LxYL5wGJYS46MHFODiNpHB/s640/11751743_10155838663270652_708842254891123229_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking to Sally Ann and enjoying the scenery. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAsl64bla5QM2vbO6wAQJDaIehKSReQru-D3Xws5c3Q0SsVYwlQrpdodp3sAsiWdXDFFttH1aqjYNMTSw3fTRbNBpVq4uq8C0bMIeIVgwbOFqlD8eQ1trawb2eTHx63-KNh9F/s1600/11061663_10155837309975652_2979995997421535049_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAsl64bla5QM2vbO6wAQJDaIehKSReQru-D3Xws5c3Q0SsVYwlQrpdodp3sAsiWdXDFFttH1aqjYNMTSw3fTRbNBpVq4uq8C0bMIeIVgwbOFqlD8eQ1trawb2eTHx63-KNh9F/s640/11061663_10155837309975652_2979995997421535049_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Community garden over the rail tracks.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8g4MRwGCj-3lYEJM2WnWF0PEliTNrBloyDNshZaXW_LqSY2hyc7gyQ76PYJIS3FZsKJtPciGPDxYdEDE5Vc12bp06v6quCedF8LvDBemFnudcjMNwlIfvZhou-A0LPmYfCNJO/s1600/IMG_7578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8g4MRwGCj-3lYEJM2WnWF0PEliTNrBloyDNshZaXW_LqSY2hyc7gyQ76PYJIS3FZsKJtPciGPDxYdEDE5Vc12bp06v6quCedF8LvDBemFnudcjMNwlIfvZhou-A0LPmYfCNJO/s640/IMG_7578.JPG" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanier Park overlooking English Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkB4eMzlMH0qIRc0tFvAaWtUvQ76ThMTjFs4uGFGZeUyZNhTlRa7mrzikJI4HRMWrObTGPLSV52iVt1lHMws20G_W3u5TojhjkrzpvLVB0RlAwz71aJqMTGc9_GXJfcYeSBvBR/s1600/11156177_10155836770470652_2386827526062009286_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkB4eMzlMH0qIRc0tFvAaWtUvQ76ThMTjFs4uGFGZeUyZNhTlRa7mrzikJI4HRMWrObTGPLSV52iVt1lHMws20G_W3u5TojhjkrzpvLVB0RlAwz71aJqMTGc9_GXJfcYeSBvBR/s640/11156177_10155836770470652_2386827526062009286_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trees and trees and more trees. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwHehO2IhyphenhyphenhP_y9QlAcryXsyB5sK-eu9Eqg4olKAgXG1DnB1bcLiaL1s-2ijsUK-uuuHA8_OXNX1k8wty2jJjLKgS96dNzckGgrSoQ_Id7w2dSaRFFR0PemNdDNHB36WcdDia/s1600/11707477_10155836420160652_2738437591675607452_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwHehO2IhyphenhyphenhP_y9QlAcryXsyB5sK-eu9Eqg4olKAgXG1DnB1bcLiaL1s-2ijsUK-uuuHA8_OXNX1k8wty2jJjLKgS96dNzckGgrSoQ_Id7w2dSaRFFR0PemNdDNHB36WcdDia/s640/11707477_10155836420160652_2738437591675607452_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of the Rose Garden UBC.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUteWohsZdkV6sdO96Or9ZkXS7MgUeK8BJTekRIakVsoelYCfHi6gD6j-mLkWeZbzKS2sP72yML_5gx9CFZkVHgkDlCNYV96iCVed0uyYQ766X_wWBTbxZPY0XmN4X_MVU2h/s1600/11800554_10155836424600652_4711086325692464429_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUteWohsZdkV6sdO96Or9ZkXS7MgUeK8BJTekRIakVsoelYCfHi6gD6j-mLkWeZbzKS2sP72yML_5gx9CFZkVHgkDlCNYV96iCVed0uyYQ766X_wWBTbxZPY0XmN4X_MVU2h/s640/11800554_10155836424600652_4711086325692464429_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rose Garden at UBC.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVUb2ErXwBshy8NCo-aurca95diUexDvJlbU8akHLIUCvuMU536iow0OWUzGyByLotv69Nuh14vNwJsvLJ8Wy2PTI39VSDetR8tbYyWhVkVAIVoI44hWhOfaAKmoLoTDEh_EV6/s1600/11227868_10155814387180652_1614867466457901706_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVUb2ErXwBshy8NCo-aurca95diUexDvJlbU8akHLIUCvuMU536iow0OWUzGyByLotv69Nuh14vNwJsvLJ8Wy2PTI39VSDetR8tbYyWhVkVAIVoI44hWhOfaAKmoLoTDEh_EV6/s640/11227868_10155814387180652_1614867466457901706_n.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jericho Beach during the folk festival.</td></tr>
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Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31543787.post-34995252116952009682015-05-02T16:54:00.000-04:002019-03-27T17:22:15.807-04:00Art Therapy School<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvClSu9ed-Csup7046zHrYAUANG8fSfeEE1ouzuQ4TVMFclVtlCdjRscTNnr7iU2Gollg6LfIu0Fm7hSKgs9dwnR-CJPQylrMBb1na-s5iG1UVq5K84NLLfOJVfpAW42UWxTEE/s1600/IMG_2160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvClSu9ed-Csup7046zHrYAUANG8fSfeEE1ouzuQ4TVMFclVtlCdjRscTNnr7iU2Gollg6LfIu0Fm7hSKgs9dwnR-CJPQylrMBb1na-s5iG1UVq5K84NLLfOJVfpAW42UWxTEE/s1600/IMG_2160.JPG" height="550" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
The experiences meant for us come back around. They pull to us like magnets and the Universe makes it relatively easy for us to say yes. To begin. To go with the flow.<br />
<br />
There are so many experiences I've tried to force. I decided the time was right and assumed I was in charge. The more I pushed, the more I felt at odds with everything. Instead of feeling in the flow of things, I felt I was putting a lot of energy trying to move an unmovable object.<br />
<br />
I'm learning every day to trust more. To let go more. To accept what is.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">VATI 2015. Art Therapy school is happening. </span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">It's real and it's happening. </span></i><br />
<br />
On the Aries new moon I said yes. <br />
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My silk cocoon is unraveling.<br />
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Can you feel it?<br />
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Yours might be, too.<br />
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*<br />
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*<br />
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* <br />
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Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31543787.post-20143205908575291202012-04-26T11:26:00.002-04:002012-06-10T09:17:47.309-04:00Live In The Changing Light Of A Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB; font-size: x-large;">* * * * *</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">"The most valuable thing we can do </span><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">for</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">the psyche,
occasionally, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">is to </span><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">let it </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;">rest, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">wander, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">*live in the changing light of a room,*
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">not try to be</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">or do anything whatever."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">~May Sarton</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: DFKai-SB; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span></div>Fate Filled Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11986414803540171070noreply@blogger.com0