I Woke Up in Paradise

Camino de Santiago

I am amazed at how many different aspects there are to the allure of the Camino de Santiago trail in Spain. Many religious figures and celebrities have travelled this route, across the top of Spain, and been buried along the way — the religious figures, not the celebrities. In addition to that, it was once considered a path to the end of the world. For Europeans, before the discovery of the new world, this trek took you to the Western most aspect of the continent, literally the end of the world as it was known at the time.

There is also the athletic perspective. As an outdoors adventure, this trail is designed so that you can “rough” it in the outdoors without having to carry tents and cooking equipment, unless you want to, and for that there is camping available.

The hike itself is almost 800 kilometers or 480 miles long. It goes through mountainous areas, open fields and cities. Great discussions are currently being held in various chat rooms about what distance can be covered each day, how demanding the trip is, how to prepare for this type of physical exertion and what to eat to enhance your performance.

Cultural visitors can visit rustic small towns and city centers all by travelling this path. The pilgrim is exposed to what it means to be truly Spanish, even if authentically it means that you cannot get service in the middle of the afternoon.

Spirituality beckons many a traveler and most of the people, other than the uber- athletes, do not know why they have a desire to walk this route other than the fact that they know that they want to do it. Initially affiliated with Christianity, the call of the Camino now goes out to people of various spiritual and religious perspectives.

A lesser-mentioned aspect of this journey is that the way is marked in the heavens themselves. This particular trek is directly under the Milky Way. If you were going to design a message or a marker that would not get lost through time, would not be subject to language and could be understood by anyone, isn’t that how you would mark it?

It has been brought to my attention that a walking stick is essential for this journey. This, of course, is another personal decision. I spoke to people about the most modern types of sticks. Some are fully collapsible, feather light, designed to absorb shocks and allow you to let go of the handle while the stick holds onto your hand.

I took the advice of a friend that said, “Go out into the woods and find one.” At this stage of the journey, I’m glad that I did. There is always the possibility that I will regret this later because I will see the benefit of all of the upgrades to the newer ones and recognize that I could’ve used some 21st century help on my walk.

But, the romantic in me liked the idea of going into the woods and finding a stick. The stick that I found was only the third branch that I touched. It seemed to be waiting there for me. In my mind’s eye I had envisioned a stick with a bend. The natural position that I would like to hold my hand in, while holding the stick and hiking, required a bend. The stick I picked up had that bend. It was also the right diameter, not excessive, but sturdy enough to hold my weight and the right length. I tested this out by forcing my entire weight down on the branch. It did not give at all.

Unfamiliar with the various species of trees, I had to ask for help. The help came in the form of an email from the TreeCanada website. This group advocates of planting trees and provides resources to that end. The man that answered my email said that it was definitely a birch branch and probably a white birch. To be fair to him, the photo I sent him illustrated a branch that had been lying on the ground for at least part of the winter and much of the bark was damaged or missing.

Birch has significance in many cultures. Apparently, it is a symbol of new beginnings and of taking a positive step forward. It is both male and female in a single tree. It is associated with growth and adaptability and is considered a pioneer. From a practical perspective, it is virtually imperishable, strong, light and has a natural resonance that will amplify energy. This sounds more appealing to me personally than it will fold up and go into your suitcase, but I may find that that is more important than I realize at this point.

For whatever reason, and I have to admit I am part of the group that does not know why I want to do this, just that I do, increasing numbers of people are making this journey, that in an of itself makes it interesting.

(Source: www)

Black Birds

This is an excerpt from my book, “I Woke Up in Paradise.”

It is Friday morning. I am sitting in front of my 10,000 lux lamp because if I don’t do this most mornings in the winter I start to get depressed and find it hard to wake up in the morning. They call this type of mild depression the “February Blues” because so many people get depressed from a lack of sunshine. In February, the summer is still a long way away.

We had a light snow yesterday and some of it is still on the ground. It reminds me that I have not shut the water off to the outside faucets and I’m hoping that they have not frozen and cracked.

During my time at this particular house, there were two black birds that liked to sit outside of the master bedroom window. I do not know for sure if they were crows or ravens, but I do know that they were large and black and there was always a pair of them.

I have learned over the years that the universe is always trying to speak to you, but you must be willing to listen. The messages come in the form of experiences, observations and synchronicities, but the important part is that you must be paying attention. Black birds often figure prominently in these types of messages for me. They have brought so many insights.

These two would sit together just outside of the window on the edge of part of our roof and they could be seen clearly from inside of the house. It was actually a pleasant feeling to have the two of them visible when I walked into our bedroom. It was like having pleasant neighbours that you saw but never had to engage in small talk.

It always felt like a good sign to see them there. A pleasant reminder of the fact that there is good in the world. This obviously content couple were inseparable and would sit together and fly around our court together.

On my way to work, I would drive out of the court and turn left on a larger road that took me toward the city. One day as I turned left, I saw that a large black bird had been hit by a car. These birds are natural scavengers so it may have been feasting on road kill when the car hit it. The other bird from the pair was standing on the boulevard a few feet away from the dead bird.

When I came home for lunch the hopeful partner was still standing beside the road waiting for the other bird to get up. The bird was still there after work. Every time that I drove by this place for the next few days, the big black bird was standing at the side of the road waiting for its partner to get up. Gradually, the dead bird became less and less of a bird and more and more of a smear.

After a few days, the bird was no longer there. The pair that used to sit outside of my window, never returned. I did see that another couple had started to include this newly single bird in their group and I would see this group of three sometimes in our neighbourhood, but the new group was never invited to sit on the eave outside my window.

This whole event shook me. True love and attachment was not something that has been cooked up by Hollywood, or mandated as a way of enforcing breeding rights on people. This was a fundamental part of our world. There were other animals that formed true, binding attachments to one another.

A reflection on the arrangement that I was in, stood in stark contrast. He would never stand on the side of the road for days waiting for me to get up. He would not even notice that I was not behind him if he left. It was a gentle reminder that that was not the kind of relationship that I was in. It was time to leave.

(Source: wendypowell.ca)

“I Woke Up in Paradise” — Now available

My Next Adventure

I had one of those defining moments today. I felt a hesitation as I pushed the “return” button to submit my book for publication. My book seemed to spring from nowhere and suddenly, seven months later it was out. Now on to my next project.

This may seem sudden, but as I practise what I preach, inspiration seems to be flooding over me and encouraging me to indulge in those things that bring me joy. As a Coneiya (ko-NEY-yuh) practitioner, I teach connection to ourselves, our bodies and our oneness. This connection brings me in line with what I am passionate about and thinking about going on this adventure is one of those things.

One Saturday morning almost twenty years ago I was sitting in the kitchen with a coffee and a plate of fruit reading an essay by a man that had walked the Camino de Santiago Trail in Spain. He explained that he made a huge amount of money at his job, but he hated what he was doing. He took the trip to clear his mind, get a new perspective and decide what he was going to do next. What struck me about his essay was that he came away not knowing what his religion was. I found this fascinating. A seed was planted.

After decades of being a caregiver to young, and then older, children I crave a time and place that I can worry only about myself. A chance to reconnect with who I am when I am not worried about the others in my life. A way to get to know myself again. I love to be out in nature and the feeling that comes with the self-sufficiency necessary to venture into the unknown.

When I think about going on this adventure I get this golden yellow sensation all over my body. It is difficult to describe but it is as though my skin is happy. The sensation emanates from a deeper place in my core and radiates out. Passion of this nature encourages you to enjoy as much as you can while you are on this planet.

I have seen many, many photos taken of the beautiful countryside and I dream of being in this scenic environment. I have pictured strolling along this trail, with the sun shinning and the wind blowing. What never occurred to me was that people stop to take photos only under certain conditions. These conditions usually include things like a nice view, a vista or open space.

Needless to say, I was surprised to find out that the trail goes through mountainous areas. Jane Christmas’s book provided insight and reality to my dreams of going for a long walk across Spain. She describes the grueling climb up the Pyrenees and the minimalist refugios, or hostels. This did not dissuade me but refocused my energy towards preparing for the journey.

There is nothing like inspiration to motivate you to do new things, learn new things and explore new ideas. So, here I go. I’m learning Spanish, increasing my walking, discussing maps; walking sticks and hiking boots and things are good.

In order to get to a place where you are this inspired, you need to reconnect with yourself. This can be done by taking at least fifteen minutes a day to do nothing. Doing nothing may seem impossible, or unproductive, but it is time well spent. I detail how to do this in my blog, “A Good Reason to Make Meditation a Part of Your Life.” http://web.me.com/wendyjpowell/Site_2/Blog/Entries/2011/7/1_A_Good_Reason_to_Make_Meditation_a_Part_of_Your_Life.html

Take some time today to listen to your heart and see what it is saying. What would you do if you could just go ahead and do it?

(Source: wendypowell.ca)

My Sister Vicki

My sister, Vicki, always seemed to have bad luck. She was hit by a gliding swing when she was young that left a great gash on her head and she broke her front middle tooth in an accident a couple of years after that.

Vicki adored me. There is nothing quite as lovely as having someone in your life that thinks you are the cat’s ass. She was my personal cheering squad. She made sure that I knew that she loved me and that she thought that I was doing well. This made it even harder to watch her lose her mind.

After the incident on our shopping trip for bridesmaid’s dresses, she stabilized enough to manage in her life. She got a college diploma that secured her a job working with mentally and physically disabled individuals. She moved to the city where she took the diploma course and rented one bedroom of a two-bedroom apartment. The other bedroom was rented by a guy. I don’t know if she had known him before or if she had met him because he was renting out one of his rooms.

This guy was a normal type of guy. He seemed nice and non-distinctive. I only met him a couple of times. This arrangement worked well for my sister. She hated the fact that he would take her groceries instead of going out to get his own and there were other roommate squabbles but all in all, they had found a way to live in the same apartment together. I believe this arrangement lasted for a couple of years.

As some point, she was either fed up with him taking her groceries or a one-bedroom apartment became available in the same building and she moved out. He could not handle this. He drove his car at top speed across the parking lot at the fairgrounds and into a brick wall.

Needless to say, his death hit my sister fairly hard. She did not handle it well and went into a period where she needed to be hospitalized. I visited her in the hospital and it was hard to find the sister that I had known in the person whom I was talking to. She assured me that she spoke to God and angels and that they were telling her all kinds of important things that she needed to share with people.

I acknowledged that she was being spoken to and I explained that others would not be so understanding and that she should probably keep those conversations to herself. Unfortunately, the messages were too important and she had to let people know. I heard a couple of these messages and I was never sure what she was trying to say or even what the message was.

At some point, a man moved into her apartment. He had a checkered past and had suffered an almost fatal knife wound to the chest at some point. This injury still created some problems for him physically, but all in all, he seemed to be good company for my sister. They lived together for about a year and then one night while they were watching “The Comish,” I believe, he died on the sofa.

Each time that Vicki got sick, she did not come back fully. At this point in my life, I was losing both my father and my sister in waves that would wash over them and leave a fraction of their former-selves behind.

Vicki was in and out of the hospital more and becoming more and more delusional. During one of my daughter’s birthday parties she showed up with a man that could easily be mistaken for someone that was homeless. It sounded as though the two of them were driving around together and had decided to visit. I got the impression that they had run out of money and knew that I would feed them.

Bob was furious. He conjured up a whole litany of stories about how people would react to seeing the two of them in our home while they were picking up their children. He thought that people would reasonably be scared for the safety of their children if they saw these people in our house. He was mad that he had not known in advance that they were coming and he made the entire visit very uncomfortable for me.

I cannot accurately remember what happened next. I knew that I was put into the impossible situation of having to choose between two people. I think that Vicki stayed for a while but she knew that she was unwelcome. Anyhow, it makes me really sad that I did not have her stay for a longer visit and if she were here, I would apologize.

For a personal reading of this part http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-6nTnBQmRM

(Source: web.me.com)

My Sister Vicki

My sister, Vicki, always seemed to have bad luck. She was hit by a gliding swing when she was young that left a great gash on her head and she broke her front middle tooth in an accident a couple of years after that.

Vicki adored me. There is nothing quite as lovely as having someone in your life that thinks you are the cat’s ass. She was my personal cheering squad. She made sure that I knew that she loved me and that she thought that I was doing well. This made it even harder to watch her lose her mind.

After the incident on our shopping trip for bridesmaid’s dresses, she stabilized enough to manage in her life. She got a college diploma that secured her a job working with mentally and physically disabled individuals. She moved to the city where she took the diploma course and rented one bedroom of a two-bedroom apartment. The other bedroom was rented by a guy. I don’t know if she had known him before or if she had met him because he was renting out one of his rooms.

This guy was a normal type of guy. He seemed nice and non-distinctive. I only met him a couple of times. This arrangement worked well for my sister. She hated the fact that he would take her groceries instead of going out to get his own and there were other roommate squabbles but all in all, they had found a way to live in the same apartment together. I believe this arrangement lasted for a couple of years.

As some point, she was either fed up with him taking her groceries or a one-bedroom apartment became available in the same building and she moved out. He could not handle this. He drove his car at top speed across the parking lot at the fairgrounds and into a brick wall.

Needless to say, his death hit my sister fairly hard. She did not handle it well and went into a period where she needed to be hospitalized. I visited her in the hospital and it was hard to find the sister that I had known in the person whom I was talking to. She assured me that she spoke to God and angels and that they were telling her all kinds of important things that she needed to share with people.

I acknowledged that she was being spoken to and I explained that others would not be so understanding and that she should probably keep those conversations to herself. Unfortunately, the messages were too important and she had to let people know. I heard a couple of these messages and I was never sure what she was trying to say or even what the message was.

At some point, a man moved into her apartment. He had a checkered past and had suffered an almost fatal knife wound to the chest at some point. This injury still created some problems for him physically, but all in all, he seemed to be good company for my sister. They lived together for about a year and then one night while they were watching “The Comish,” I believe, he died on the sofa.

Each time that Vicki got sick, she did not come back fully. At this point in my life, I was losing both my father and my sister in waves that would wash over them and leave a fraction of their former-selves behind.

Vicki was in and out of the hospital more and becoming more and more delusional. During one of my daughter’s birthday parties she showed up with a man that could easily be mistaken for someone that was homeless. It sounded as though the two of them were driving around together and had decided to visit. I got the impression that they had run out of money and knew that I would feed them.

Bob was furious. He conjured up a whole litany of stories about how people would react to seeing the two of them in our home while they were picking up their children. He thought that people would reasonably be scared for the safety of their children if they saw these people in our house. He was mad that he had not known in advance that they were coming and he made the entire visit very uncomfortable for me.

I cannot accurately remember what happened next. I knew that I was put into the impossible situation of having to choose between two people. I think that Vicki stayed for a while but she knew that she was unwelcome. Anyhow, it makes me really sad that I did not have her stay for a longer visit and if she were here, I would apologize.

For a personal reading of this part http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-6nTnBQmRM

(Source: web.me.com)

My Book Is Finally Available!!

Well, it has finally arrived. After seven months of writing, editing and learning the ropes around publishing, my book is now available for sale. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be able to share this with you.

This is how it came into being. During the summer, I was trying to write blogs that would be appropriate for my life coaching website and there was a story stuck in front of them. My story. The harder I tried to come up with broad ranging topics that might appeal to someone interested in a life coach, the more persistent the need to write about my own experience became. Hearing the words of Martha Beck in my mind, “You have to live it to give it!” I recognized that I needed to follow my heart and see where it led me. What kind of coach would I be if I insisted on helping other people find their passions if I was not willing to indulge in my own?

So, I started to write blogs about my life. They seem to spill out of me in roughly chronological order, so I left them that way. My story begins in a small A-frame house in a small city in Ontario and follows my life right up to where I am now. The final chapter gives an overview of some of the things that I’ve learned, some of my deeply held beliefs and, of course, some of my own theories about how the universe functions.

If you would like to get a feel for what my book is like, the first part of it is available here: http://web.me.com/wendyjpowell/I_Woke_Up_in_Paradise/Where_Did_I_Come_From/Where_Did_I_Come_From.html

Get a taste of the book from my two YouTube readings:

“My Sister Vicki”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-6nTnBQmRM
“Ask the Universe.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8eUYeyN5EM&feature=colike

I Woke Up in Paradise is available here:
https://www.createspace.com/3745804
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Back To Work

Now the pressure was on. I had no income, but I had a job. I could go back to the job whenever I “wanted,” so Bob was constantly explaining how much money we were wasting with me not back at work. He saw no value in me staying home with the girls. He knew that we could pay someone a fraction of what I made in order for me to go back to work.

I was not going back while I was still wholly breastfeeding. I completely ignored the baby books on this one. There is a lot of pressure to start feeding cereals and formula to babies. It comes at you from all directions. One of the ways that mothers are persuaded to feed cereal is with the promise of the baby sleeping through the night. Formula is marketed as a way that dad can help out. Even he can sit and hold a bottle to a baby’s mouth!! If someone was going to actually help, wouldn’t it be nicer to have them do some of the more unpleasant jobs like changing diapers or doing laundry?

I decided that the information from our society had been so wrong about birth that it was probably wrong about how to feed a baby as well. When I look around now and see how many children and adults are afflicted with food allergies, I have to wonder how much of this is created by the way we are taught to take care of our babies. So I decided that we were probably designed perfectly. I would breast feed completely, until the baby was able to pick up food and put it into her mouth herself.

This worked quite well for me. Not only did I never sit and spoon goop into a child’s mouth, but I was putting her in complete control of what she ate, what went into her mouth and when it went in. I had been given a baby grinder from some friends so I would mush up whatever we were eating into particles that were not smooth but were too small to choke the baby.

These are the sort of details that you cannot control if you go back to work. I can feel the anger as I write this because this was very important to me and I had to fight with Bob about it. None of my children have any chronic diseases or allergies at all. This may have just been luck, but I did my best to ensure that they received the best care that was available.

By nine months, he had me worn down. They placed me in a slaughter plant that was in another city 60 miles or 100 kilometers from where I lived, driving into a large city. Every time it snowed, the highway would slow to a crawl or a complete stop. It was relentless. We had more single snow falls that winter than I ever remember. One day it took me over three hours to get into work.

I was beside myself. I almost ditched the car on the way to work one morning because I had to leave before the plows were on the highway. I was miserable. My entire life seemed to be fighting traffic to get to a job in a slaughter plant. I started to apply to other jobs within the government that were closer to where I lived.

I got screened into a job that was in a town 18 miles (30 km) from where I lived. I had an interview set up. It was a job interview that required a lot of studying. It was a program that I did not know and the way that the interview was conducted was more like an oral exam. I sat on my breaks at work and studied for this exam. The person organizing the interviews explained that I would receive a document before the exam and I was to read it and to be able to comment on it for the interview.

It was arranged that the document would be faxed to the house. We did not have a fax machine, but Bob’s computer could receive faxes electronically and then they could be printed out or read on the computer screen. The fax never came.

I went into the interview knowing that if they had not sent the fax, it was their oversight and that once I explained that then something would be worked out. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the fourth time that Bob had actively interfered with my career. He had “lost” the fax and was amazed that he had actually received it. He apologized. Everyone can make a mistake right? As I said, individually these all seemed like unfortunate accidents. It was not until hindsight that I realized that they were part of a larger pattern of sabotage.

The universe was still protecting me though. I made a decision one morning while fighting traffic that I would rather be unemployed. I would face Bob and just tell him that there was more to life than driving all day to a job that I didn’t like. I knew that I would be the target of his anger and his need to control me. I knew that it would make things tense at home. I knew that he would be verbally abusive and would let me know how useless I was, but it was my life and I wasn’t going to spend it this way.

I had three children under six at home and I intended to be there. I made the decision to quit. Before I had the opportunity to discuss this with Bob, something strange happened. The slaughter plant that I was hired to work in decided to close permanently. This interesting fact meant that I was “surplussed”. Surplussed is one of my favourite words.

As a government employee there are all kinds of regulations about job loss. If there is a job available, it has to go to someone that is already employed. So, by being surplussed, it meant that if any job became available it was mine. It also meant that I was eligible for a cash-out. How convenient. They would pay me the equivalent of sixty percent of a single year’s income to just walk away from my job. Done.

(Source: web.me.com)

mindingparadise asked: Hey - nice blog! Hope you don' t mind if I use some of your content, they're great. New follower, can you please follow me back?

Go ahead and use the content. Glad you’re enjoying it!

Baby Number Three

I was receiving cheques from the government. They had started to come again after my work at the emergency clinic, but they were about to run out. I had been applying to jobs and despite Bob’s insistence that I work; he was actively interfering with this process.

One company called to set up an interview. The job would have been in sales. Bob told the person that called that I was pregnant but that it would work out really well because I could take the baby with me to the sales calls. He explained to me afterwards that he had told the guy this. I was never interviewed for this position.

One job that I did get interviewed for was with the federal government. Not an ideal job but government jobs have a lot of benefits and security. On Thanksgiving weekend that year I got a call saying that I could start on the Tuesday. There were twelve weeks of training set up and if I could start right away, I could attend the training. If I could not start away I would not be able to start until they ran the training course again and that might be a year or so.

It was 12 weeks until the baby was due, so if all went well, I could work the twelve weeks and then the baby would be born. A woman that I had met through the playgroup said that she would take my youngest daughter for the twelve weeks. I explained that I would only need day care until the baby came. My daughter and her son were the same age and had gotten to know each other pretty well.

So, I took the job. When animals are being used for food, they are brought to slaughter plants. These places are more or less disassembly plants. The animal comes in one door and it is processed until all of the edible parts have been removed and all of the inedible parts have been disposed of.

Unfortunately, one of the known drawbacks to working in slaughter is that you become exposed to all of the bacteria that naturally occur on the animals. All of the caution about cooking your food before you eat it does not apply when you are not actually eating the animals. There is no way to protect yourself from exposure to these bacteria. They are in the air. You can inhale them on a water droplet.

All this to say that near the end of my pregnancy, I got a type of food poisoning from my initial exposure to these bacteria. When the smooth muscles of your digestive tract contract to aid in the removal of these pathogens from your body, it stimulates the contractions of your uterus. Some of the things that pregnant women are told to help bring on birth are based on this understanding. Eating spicy foods, for instance, can cause your digestive tract to become upset and have extra movement. This movement stimulates the uterus as well.

I can’t describe how awful it was not knowing which end to put closest to the toilet and having a contraction, each time my body tried to expel the toxins. I managed to call Bob at work and told him about the situation. He assured me that there was nothing that he could do about it and he was quite upset that I would not be able to pick my daughter up from day care. I guess I was not doing my part. There was no question that I was completely alone in the world.

As a veterinarian, we are in the slaughter plants representing the public and the farmer. We do not work for the company that owns the slaughter plant. Our job is to decide what can and cannot be eaten. So for instance, if an animal has some sort of illness or injury, it is our job to decide if the animal, or part of the animal, is safe to eat.

This is a factory setting with overhead machinery and loud noises. The carcasses go by on tracks that hang from the ceiling. I was on the vet stand, which was a raised part of the floor. It was composed of metal mesh that had ridges on it so that it would not be slippery. I had hearing protection on, a hardhat on and steel-toed rubber boots.

I was the only woman on the floor. These places are rough by their very nature. Most of the men carry large knives that they take pride in keeping very sharp. There is a code of conduct that can be felt in the air. Lots of teasing, lots of insults, lots of profanity.

It felt like an extreme contrast to standing there feeling a contraction wash over my abdomen knowing that I was going to give birth. The endorphins kicked in right away and it felt incongruous. Here I was in this dark, loud, aggressive place feeling all blissed-out and knowing that my third baby was coming. This was Friday, the last day of my training and the government had done me a favour by moving me to a plant within walking distance of where I lived.

My older two daughters were present for the birth. This is one of the many advantages of having babies at home. We had practised making the “power noises” that can aid in bringing the baby out and they were full participants. Hearing a five year old and a two year old grunting and making deep throaty guttural sounds while you are pushing a baby out is quite comical and really makes it more of a family event.

(Source: web.me.com)