Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Wilderness without wildlife is just scenery. [Lois Crisler]

Out here on Canada’s west coast, on Vancouver Island (not to be confused with the city of Vancouver or even the one in Washington State – boy, that George Vancouver got around!) we are often treated to glorious displays of nature at her best.

Today: a near miss, and pure joy.

As I gaze out the bedroom window in our new place, I’m often treated to the sights of sailboats, the odd multi-million dollar yacht and weekend water babies out on their paddle boards or kayaks. Hours can pass before I drag myself out of bed, having had an entire nautical show play out before me.

But what of wildlife? Seagulls – oh, we’ve got ’em – and occasionally we’ll spot an eagle or a heron either in flight or patiently fishing near the marina. The odd seal makes an appearance, but we have yet to see the grandest sight of all. Last week, we thought that was about to change.

As I looked out at a rather gloomy ocean, I noticed a gathering of large boats. The shape of them, and the dots of orange I could see within them, told me they were whale watchers. And where there are watchers, there are usually whales.

Occasionally we hear of humpbacks in the area, and I have an app that will tell me which whales have been seen where. But we know that Orcas often skirt our area. How often? A feature on the local weekend TV cast has a segment (sponsored by a whale watching outfit) called “BREACHING NEWS.” Cute, huh?

So I called Rob, who finally dug two sets of binoculars out of the many unpacked boxes we’ve brought over from the house. We sat glued to our places for about 20 minutes, looking at this.

Did we see an Orca? No, we did not. But we’ve been told by neighbours that, yes, they can be seen from our building. We just hoped that Friday the 13^th would be a lucky day for us and we, too, would see one of these gorgeous black and white behemoths. Without even paying to board a boat and endure the chilly rain.

So I can’t leave you with the story of a near-miss, can I? I’ll take you instead to my backyard visit at the house up in Dean Park that we’re still trying to sell (had another busy open house both days of the weekend, so it’s not for a lack of trying on our agent’s part; nothing is moving in our price range).

Enjoy this video of my big-eared friend, and stay ’til the end, because after I said good-bye, it didn’t leave.

Do potential buyers get turned off by deer? Some do, I’m sure; those who treasure their gardens and would rather they aren’t a buffet for the fawns and their moms. Us? We felt blessed when one or two – or more – would visit. And I hope this video makes you feel the same way. (Oh, and while you’re on my YouTube channel, feel free to check out my latest project: Not a Mourning Person, won’t you? Like and subscribe so you don’t miss any new editions; I’m currently producing two a week.) 

Just a thought… Just because I carry it well, doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. [post on Instagram @powerofpositivity]

As we step further into September, and the leaves show us how to let go, as someone wisely put it, I find myself thinking so much about hope, along with a word I stumbled across last week that may make the difference between mere existence and thriving for you and for me.

Rob and I watched a fascinating documentary series on Netflix called Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zone from 2023. The fact that I’ve found myself talking about it to friends and family means it’s really hit something in me.

Okay, so in it, the host and researchers go to parts of the world – interestingly, many of them islands – where more people live to 100+ years of age than in other areas on Earth.

In each of them, which included specific areas in Japan, Greece, Costa Rica, Italy, California and Singapore, there were three or four standout features in their inhabitants’ lives that helped contribute to their longevity. These included community, activity and exercise, diet (so many fruits, vegetables and lentils; so little meat!) and the one BIG element that stuck foremost in my mind: ikigai.

Pronounced “icky guy,” this emerged during the show’s visit to Okinawa, Japan. It basically translates to “your purpose or passion while benefitting others.” According to an article to which I’ll link at the end, the four elements of ikigai are these:

• What you love

• What you are good at

• What the world needs

• What you can get paid for

It was ikigai that seemed to contribute to people in Okinawa (and other locales) living longer, and I guess the reason it resonated so loudly is that I’m delving more and more deeply into mine these days.

Maybe retirement did this to you. When we read or hear of people who die shortly after leaving or losing a job, it seems that they’ve lost their ikigai. Or maybe, as was the case with yours truly, they lean into the “no rules” freedom of not getting up to an alarm and having to be anywhere at a specific time. It’s what led me back to drinking (and eventually to sobriety, thank goodness).

So after a seemingly fulfilling eight years since we left the daily radio job, Rob is concerned that I find myself sinking into a malaise and that has brought us to the realization that there’s more work to be done on my grief and the compounding feelings that have come of the massive changes in our lives this year. Losing the optimism that’s always been imprinted on my heart has been hard; watching life go on around me and having no urge to take part is easy to lean into and just sink more deeply.

So why am I telling you this? Not for counsel or sympathy; it’s basic transparency. And a reminder to please not think that life is perfect for anyone, no matter what they present to the world in those Instagrammable moments.

While I search for my ikigai, I’m hoping this will remind you to hold on to yours. Maybe it’s family or volunteering or doing what you love. If that is you, that’s awesome! We need reasons to get out of bed in the morning. My new project, which I intend to be my purpose, is the Not a Mourning Person grief briefs I post loosely semi-weekly on YouTube. 

I’m using what’s in my heart to help others to keep going by knowing they’re not alone, and it comes with a responsibility to keep doing them. The community I’ve always had on social media with people who are kind, open and compassionate has fuelled me, along with the podcast work with Lisa Brandt (Gracefully and Frankly) that gives me purpose. Sustained joy will come, I hope. For now it’s just finding those reasons to get up, stay up and keep it up.

As I’ve often said in times of challenge, “We Can Do This.” I just need to believe it. Don’t we all?

Here’s an article on ikigai if you’d like to read more. I know I will. 

Just a thought… You can start anew at any given moment. Life is just the passage of time and it’s up to you to pass it as you please. [Charlotte Eriksson]

Today is a day for new beginnings, a significant celebration and even a happy ending.

As you may have seen on Facebook on Sunday, a jewel in our lives, the wonderful Mira Frankl, marked yet another big birthday, and turned 99. For us, SHE is the Great One! We love this woman with all our hearts and will always be grateful that she came into our lives through volunteering.

Now we are the best of friends; she calls Rob and me “her kids” and we count our blessings every hour we spend together. Sometimes it’s walking through Sidney, as she and I did yesterday, but most often it’s at her apartment, the dogs on the couch next to her, as she talks, laughs and even softly cries, discussing not just her own, but our days and lives.

She has so much love in that tired heart of hers, so much wisdom. What a woman; what a life! I’d wish her a longer one, but she’s ready to go peacefully to her rest and we hope for her that very same thing. To wish otherwise would be selfish, but we’ll never be ready for her to go.

Letting go of someone or something you love is, as anyone who’s done it knows, never easy. So after months of consideration, it’s time for me to drift away from doing so many new sleep stories and bringing them out every two weeks. I’ll have a new one tonight, but that may be it for a while.

There will always be well over 100 tales to listen to for free (thanks to sponsors enVyPillow.com and SierraSil.com) and they’ll be staying put. My challenge will be spreading the net (or duvet) to bring in more listeners to the gently-told stories of love, endurance, kindness and, yes, princesses. I’ll find a way to do that and to grow our Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories audience, but I think that this one-woman initiative is in need of a rest. (My fingers just typed “reset” and that may have been a better word.)

I just talked to Rob who said – because he’s my in-house therapist – “Remember what you say: don’t agree to something when you’re in a good mood, or turn down something when you’re not.” SO with that in mind, I’ll just say I’m stepping away for now and will create again when the inspiration hits.

So that’s one bit of news. The other is that in the past few days I put out my first and second Not a Mourning Person grief brief videos. There will be no particular order in which to watch these two-minute segments on YouTube; I’ll drop them when I feel I (or you) have something that needs to be said. I’ll keep shooting and putting out these videos and am counting on those of us in the grief conversation to add to it with your questions and observations. The emails will need to be short, as are the videos (I realize we live in a TL;DR – too long, didn’t read – universe).

It’s time to try something new. I appreciate the many suggestions I received for a title, but as you see, I chose Not a Mourning Person as a play on words and my mindset. But that doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t talk about grief in our day-to-day lives!

So let’s raise a coffee cup to new beginnings (like grandbaby Jane’s first day of school, and Colin’s start of grade five in a new one), gentle endings and celebrations of life and the gifts we find in the every-day.

Happy New Year (the way Labour Day always makes me feel) and if you’re a former teacher, I really hope your happy dance is loud and lively!

Just a thought… Our job as parents is to teach our kids not to need us. And it hurts, but when you see them as accomplished, confident, kind, thoughtful responsible people, then you know you’ve done your job. [Barack Obama]

Before I begin, a huge note of thanks. To you, for sharing your suggestions for my new video labour of love, which will be short (2 minutes-ish) unscripted observations on grief: the wisdom of others, my thoughts – and yours – and moments that I trust will resonate with you.

I’ve decided to call it Not a Mourning Person and this week I will be launching my introductory video. You’ll find it at my YouTube channel, as well as on Facebook, on Threads.net and Instagram under the name @erindawndavis. I’ll post them as I shoot them; my 2^nd episode will be based on saying good-bye to our kids as they head off to school.

I hope you’ll give them a look. If you want to subscribe on YouTube, you won’t miss a thing.

This is a week for goodbyes for so many – not only to the memories of summer which, yes, I know continues on the calendar until September 22^nd – but to those who are leaving the nest for new adventures. I’m sure you know someone who’s helping to pack bags and boxes.

In the case of my sister Leslie, her youngest has come to Vancouver Island to begin as a freshman at UVic in the music teaching program. It’s been lovely having Ava here for little bits between her days working at a local bakery; she’s busy, excited and, of course, nervous. But she’s getting lots of free carbs at the end of the day, so for a starving student, that’s a big plus!

This week, an Ontario friend finds herself in the shoes Rob and I wore 15 years ago (can it be that long???) when we packed up Lauren and moved her to Ottawa to begin school for radio at Algonquin College. As my friend goes through all of the teary moments and hours of watching her little bird fly the nest, it put me back in those days of doing the same with Lauren.

We found her a place to live and I accompanied her in Lauren’s car while Rob kept pace in the U-Haul. As Rob returned the truck to the GTA, I caught a cab from her new place to the Ottawa airport. I’m sure cab drivers see plenty of tears in their cars, but I went through a lot of Kleenex on that ride to catch my flight because it felt like something inside me was being torn apart.

The week that followed was a sombre one in our condo: the bustling, joyful, musical sounds that echoed in our halls was gone. No more singing coming from her room, no more silly voices for Pepper and Molly, no more whistling or clattering in the kitchen late at night. No more dogs barking when she came in from her Starbucks shift or a night out doing karaoke with her friends.

It was all so silent.

For five solid days I would come home from doing the morning radio show and sink into my own mourning program…lying in bed and crying every day for an entire week – a feeling inadvertently foreshadowing what was to come six years later in a more permanent way.

I look back at that time of her moving through the same lens I do the years I suffered depression before her death: girl, if you only knew what was coming, you wouldn’t have dared to be so sad…but how can we foresee? And if somehow we could, would it change our reaction in the moment anyway? Kind of like the parent’s threat: “I’ll give you something to cry about!” (Yes, mine said that – did yours? LOL)

What prompted me to write this piece today was an email I got from my friend on Friday:

I was feeling a bit heavyhearted yesterday, but then I had a memory, which transformed my mood. I may have mentioned to you that my husband and I had a very difficult time having a child, with years of IVF and multiple miscarriages (both excellent topics for grief videos, by the way! 🙂).

I remember a particular day when my parents were over and I was weeping and raging with God and the world at how much I wanted this and couldn’t have it. That moment was so much harder than this is now. That memory filled my heart with so much gratitude!!

Ah, yes. Perspective. It reminded me of the words that only we can tell ourselves to ease the pain: you’ve survived worse. Sometimes it’s valuable to dig deep to find that view in order to make the moments we’re in a little more survivable.

I wanted you to know that if you’re feeling that sense of separation this week, whether it’s preparing to send a child to school for the first time (which will be Brooke’s experience next week) or watching them leave for the next great chapter in a life filled with dreams and promise, I’m thinking of you. It’s grief of a different kind, but grief nonetheless. Take the time to feel it, to acknowledge it and, if you can, to deal with it. You are not alone. And that’s exactly what Not a Mourning Person will bring home. Our togetherness.

And thank you again.

Just a thought… Hopefulness…can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position, it is adversarial. It is the warrior emotion that can lay waste to cynicism. [Nick Cave]

Welcome to a new week. I have something in the works that I need to share with you, in order to make sure that I do it. I also need your opinion on something, if you don’t mind.

Sometimes you see something that not only knocks you to the floor, but lifts you up. A perfect articulation that makes you envious that you didn’t come up with those words, but eternally grateful that someone was able to do it.

That “something” is a piece on grief written by the Australian singer/songwriter Nick Cave. I’d never heard of him before a clip of an interview with Stephen Colbert made the rounds on my social media feed on Wednesday. And I’ll link to it in a bit so you can watch the entire 22 minutes, or skip ahead to the 14 minute mark where Nick speaks of grief in a way that, as I say, I wish that I had.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.

When my friend Lisa was here helping me find purpose and passion in my future again, she asked, “What more do you want to do?”

Without hesitating I said, “Well, TV. But that’s not going to happen.” That ship, though it drifted briefly near my particular dock thanks to Rogers and the W Network, has sailed.

Then Lisa pointed out the myriad platforms I have established myself upon for decades, from Facebook to Instagram, Threads, YouTube and this journal at erindavis.com. Why try to find a place, when I have a place?

So I got thinking, and this clip from Nick Cave just confirmed in my heart what I have to do. Allow me to explain.

Every week, I receive emails or messages from people who are just beginning the awful process of grieving – whether it’s a spouse, a child (as was our loss), a parent, a sibling or a job. Perhaps because Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy went to #1 in Canada in 2019, my exposure to people who are also grieving was amplified. For this, I am and will always be grateful.

And so I’d like to promise you here – so that I fulfill the promise – I’m going to start shooting regularly very brief 2-3 minute pieces on grief, hope and the perspective that others have given me. I’ll set up a special email address so you can share your wisdom, ask your questions and we’ll have a place to do this together. Why? Because the loneliness of grief, once the world has moved on, is what can be the hardest to live with.

I promise it will be uplifting, funny at times and just very personal – not about me as much as it is about you. I haven’t come up with a name for it yet and you’re welcome to post suggestions on my FB page. I may just call it Moments with Mourning Has Broken. Thoughts? Maybe it’s too wordy.

I also like Hope Warriors. Or maybe Grief Warriors?

Meantime, in case you missed it last week on Facebook, here is that incredibly inspiring “get-off-your-butt-Erin” piece with Nick Cave. I promise when he gets to the “Red Right Hand” part at the end, your jaw will drop. How dare we hope? Here’s how.

Thank you.