{This will be one of the most important, poignant and soulful posts I will ever write and it may make no sense at all, yet perfect sense all the same. I write through tears today.}

FREEDOM A word loosely tossed around every day. We are free to speak, free to choose, free to live the lives we want to create. We are free to explore and adventure. Perhaps mostly free, most of us. Some are not in this world and that allows us to be free to see perspectives.

PERSPECTIVE Seems to be forgotten a lot of the days that pass us by. The ability to open your eyes before your mouth and soak in everything around you and walk that mile. What mile? That mile others walk that you have not. Perspective opens the heart to consciousness and empathy.

GRACE Are we gracious? Are we able to accept and live with grace? Grace is kindness, grace is forgiveness, grace is allowance, mercy and ease. Let’s practice our right to freedom with perspective and grace.

Today is Remembrance Day and Veteran’s Day in North America. Today is a day that should be free of violence, free of Internet keyboard warriors, hate, spite, religious propaganda {I mean how about that “red” cup issue}, free of shopping sales and simply free to respect and free to think long and hard about perspective. This day always throws me for a bit of an emotional whirlwind.

I am THANKFUL to be alive. I am GRATEFUL for my freedoms and I strive everyday for the ability to have perspective and to accept the things I cannot change with grace.


Lest We Forget.

I have a very old newspaper clipping of a poem that my Great Grandfather had clipped and placed in his old war trunks. I have it under glass in a frame with good intentions to show it better and protect it. Since the move from Banff to Cochrane, I am heartbroken that I cannot find it i all my boxes yet. I know it almost off by heart, but I enjoy holding it none the less.

I was very young when I first read this while rummaging the boxes and trunks in the old slaughter house at the Gamblin Family farm. Maybe around 9 or 10? I believe it was shortly after he died – I was grade 5. I loved exploring all the “oldness” and memories contained in the old slaughter house. I felt connected to that world and would spend hours in solitude, the sun beaming in the loft window, reading and pouring over photographs and treasures, only to be mildly freaked out by the old war uniforms hanging in the corner, topped off with the old war gas masks. A part of me swore I saw them moving!

In any case I still recall the feeling I had when I first read it and it made me cry. Sobbed in fact. I have always felt things on a very deep level and this was one of those moments. It changed me forever. I took it with me feeling it needed to be with someone who would understand why my Great Grandfather cherished it with his belongings. I also wanted a piece of him that I knew I would cherish for life {I am sure it will turn up!} I miss him. I was fortunate to know him for as long as I did. I was curious about him and his history – my family history.

I was also curious about war and trying to understand it. I still don’t truth be told. I would sit in the rocking chair and he would lay on this old hunter green leather sofa in the front parlour of our family farm house – he was tired {I didn’t know he was fighting Cancer} – but he would still talk to me very candidly. He was really great like that. I cry sitting here typing this thinking about the day I made him cry by asking him about all the friends he lost in the wars. He served in WWI and WWII and lost many friends and family members. His response was simply “I can no longer talk today.” And I can tell you that not much sucks more than making an 85 year old man cry over his youth and innocence lost. It took me a long time to forgive myself of that and I try to not let that be one of my only memories of him from 30 plus years ago.

{If you want to make the time and listen here is a voice recording / memoir recorded in 1970 of my Great Grandfather talking about the wars –}

I read this poem out at one of the Remembrance Day Ceremonies at my high school. Only once. Kids are assholes mostly. I heard snickers as people made fun of me for being nervous and well – for being me – I am kinda weird! I felt from then on that some people didn’t deserve to begin to understand the meaning of what this meant to my Great Grandfather and now to me. {As an adult now I share share share} For all we complain about. For all we sue people over. For all we fight over EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the grudges we keep. For the people that starve. For the people who are oppressed. This poem is a fantastic reminder of a sacred life that is UP TO YOU TO LIVE. This live will always give more than you think you can handle, but freedom, perspective and grace are yours to use wisely.

Really dig deep and think, what did I do today? What can I do today? How can I do all the things I say? Perhaps I should get this poem, when I find it, properly framed and display it for reading every single day or script it on my chalk wall….


Food for thought hey!?


posting on the fly – as is –

0 Responses

  1. jonathanchristopherperry

    poignant, great post!

  2. Blackbird

    Beautiful. These thoughts are just as meaningful any day of the year. Made all kinds of sense 🙂

  3. rebeccastrails

    This is beautiful! “Did you work hard and long for less,” what truth.

  4. Eric

    Wow, such an excellent article! Great perspective.