Hide & Seek
Photo Credit: David Schmidt
“You’ve done it before and you can do it now. See the positive possibilities. Redirect the substantial energy of your frustration and turn it into… unstoppable determination.” ~ Ralph Marsten
This week’s blog post is inspired by my on-going journey with heavy and substantial energies that have been blocking my ability to feel present to positive possibilities. It’s been so hard for me to experience joy these days, let alone write an encouraging blog. And yet as I reflected on the past week, I saw a few fleeting, precious moments of light peeking out from the hazy clouds. I succeeded in cheering myself up, just a bit. I hope, dear reader, that my musings encourage you to tap into your unstoppable determination.
On Sunday, Mister and I went to the hospital to visit our loved one, still waiting to be placed in hospice care. It’s been six weeks. We were determined to overcome our irritation with the healthcare system by bringing some semblance of joy into his life. Three of us decided to take him outside for some fresh air. Transferring him to a wheelchair was a somewhat challenging task, involving a crane and a sling, but one that hospital aides did with quick efficiency. Soon enough we were on our way, weaving through the claustrophobic, stale hallways to freedom.
The weather forecast was for a high of twenty, and we imagined the tranquil vistas of the grassy hills in the big open space across from the hospital, close to the Old Grant Mill, would be a welcoming experience. We couldn’t tell by his expression if the excursion was having the desired effect, but a palliative care social worker told us back in the early days following his admission that even when people aren’t able to communicate and don’t appear present, there is strong evidence they are able to perceive, especially through their auditory senses.
The prairie sky was indeed magical. Fluffy, translucent clouds morphed into visions of fairies as they danced lazily overhead while the sun played hide and seek. At one point we looked up and saw a rainbow encircling the sun, creating the illusion of a giant eye staring outward with a calm reassurance that all was well. Mister spotted a rickety old wooden box at the base of a sturdy tree that looked like a treasure chest. There was a hand-painted sign proclaiming it was a place where wishes came true, so I took a moment to say a prayer for my brother.
The wind, which had been more of a gentle breeze when we started out, picked up rapidly, whipping the hospital blankets draped loosely over our patient’s shrunken limbs. He uttered soft moans, sounding uncomfortable, so we decided with a slight pang of dismay to head back into the dismal, stale hospital. More family members arrived to visit, all of us offering our support, love and encouragement to one another. It was a small thing. A regular thing. But it was good.
Monday morning I woke up to a lovely, long voice message from one of my daughters who is currently living abroad. It warmed my heart to hear the joyful playfulness in her voice. At the end of her message, she invited me to engage in a live audio call, and I was thrilled to accept. We talked about many things—some big and complicated, like the possible value of suffering, others small and simple. We talked for over an hour, and by the time I said goodbye, I felt present to the blessing of our relationship, of being her mother, of our seasons and cycles.
Soon enough, my focus began to wane yet again. The gluten-free-from-scratch loaf of bread I baked flopped, a huge crater in the centre. I struggled to write, my creative centre feeling like a dried up well, not even a drop of water at the bottom. Frustrated, but unable to access one iota of determination, I took a nap. Later, a different daughter reached out for a FaceTime with Mister and me. The outrageous cuteness of my granddaughter’s infectious smiles buoyed my spirits. My energy levels went up, my fuel tank rocketing from close to empty to almost half full.
The dinner I prepared was disappointing. Perhaps it was my lack of focus, like with the bread. I felt the sluggishness returning, my internal gauge threatening to drop to zero once again. I couldn’t find the will to overcome it, so I embraced it, choosing to watch mindless Netflix programming attempting to be entertainment as an alternative to escapism through sleep.
Just as I was about to tuck into bed, my broski called. He shared more devastating updates on the state of affairs with our mother, who is also still in hospital, where she lives in Victoria. Despite the heaviness of worry, sadness, and grief, I tuned into the strong connection I felt in conversation with someone I love so much, my broski, who loves her, and is taking such good care of our mom. I am, and will always be grateful for him, and how he shows up—a rock of resistance like our father was.
As it turns out, he will still be in Victoria when I arrive in a few weeks and I will have the opportunity to see him, my cousin, and one of my three daughters. I don’t know if I’m prepared for how my mother will have changed since I saw her in March. I don’t know if you ever can. I definitely don’t know if I’ll be able to redirect the substantial energy of my heavy emotions into anything resembling positive action. What I do know is that I am re-embracing the mantra I began this year with, that anything is possible. And maybe, just maybe, anything will be something I can be proud of.
COMING UP…
Books & Projects:
· In December 2025 I signed a contract with Austin Macauley Publishers for my manuscript, The Trials of Alex Anderson, a character-driven novel that explores the relationship between mental illness and trauma. I am now on the road to publication, with an expected release date near the end of 2026. In February I worked with designers on the cover and its near completion. Last week I received the proofread manuscript for my review. Things are happening! I’ll be posting more updates here on my blog and on social media, so stay tuned for more exciting new developments.
· The Rogue Scorpion is available online at Amazon, Chapters-Indigo, and Barnes & Noble. You can also find it at select Chapters-Indigo and El Hombre de la Mancha bookstores.
Reviews & Interviews:
· You can read, listen, or watch a large selection of reviews and interviews on my website.
Events:
· There are no events currently scheduled in my calendar.
YouTube Channel:
Watch The Rogue Scorpion trailer