Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Be willing to be a beginner every single morning. [Meister Eckhardt]

Here’s the written version of Monday’s vlog: 

Welcome in to a brand new year. Yes, from where I sit, it looks quite a bit like the old one, too, and yet instead of the start, we’re partway to the finish. It’s unfair that we can’t see the finish line, I know, but we just have to believe that it’s there, don’t we? That’s why I’d call this first journal of 2021 “Fireworks in the Fog.”

The holidays were a blessed blur of warmth and comfort. If you’re like me, you made the most of the situation in which we found ourselves – melancholy and all – while also embracing reasons to be grateful. And goodness knows, 2020 brought our little family four very good reasons to count our blessings: Colin, Jane, Brooke and Phil.

On Christmas morning I peeked out the living room window in hopes of seeing, not reindeer, but even one deer grazing or resting in the grassy, tree-dotted yard to set the tone for our day. Alas, there was none. But later, not one minute after mentioning that, as we were out with Rosie, Rob said, “Look up!” and there, flying low and just over our heads, was a flock of white swans.

I didn’t have time to get a picture; instead, I watched and counted 11. Of course there were (11 is a big number in our lives). Lauren was sending us a special Christmas hello, just as she did with the big bald eagle that flew past our window on our first Dec. 25 on Vancouver Island in 2016. Quite enough of a sign for me, thanks Loo.

The most accurate sign, if you will, an encapsulation of the year that is to come, appeared in a way on New Year’s Eve. As Rob, Colin and I counted down in the hot tub and watched the ball drop on a (safely distanced) computer screen at 9 pm our time, we clinked glasses and kissed. My eyes got teary as they always do at this moment and then we listened: even at the time it was in BC, three hours before our actual year change, we could hear the popping of distant fireworks.

Now, we couldn’t actually see them because of a fog that had rolled in just a few minutes earlier. Still – we knew they were there. And that, I came to believe, is as good an analogy for 2021 as there is: know that there will be cause for celebration, even if it’s far off or not within sight. We have to believe that the light and brilliance – the joy, if you will – are still there, even if we can’t see them right now. I guess that’s where faith comes in, doesn’t it?

Thank you for sharing this written version and I’ll be back with another on Thursday. We’ll let you know then the decision regarding vlogs and so on – and some thought-provoking feedback. You never disappoint.

Just a thought… Be willing to be a beginner every single morning. [Meister Eckhardt]

Today – a fresh start and something new. I thought, for a change, I’d do a video journal. A “vlog” is what the kids call it, but I’ll explain in it why I decided to give this a try.

Let me know if you’d like me to do it this way occasionally; just post at my Facebook page or, if you’re not on FB, drop me a line here.

Thank you for starting this 18th year of journals with me here in 2021. We can do this. 

Here’s the link.

Just a thought… Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see. [The Conductor, The Polar Express, written by Chris Van Allsburg]

And here it is, Christmas Eve. For many, what should be the most wonderful night of the year is truly a silent night: no big family gatherings, memories cherished rather than made, dinners for two or even one, rather than a table laid out like a Downton Abbey banquet.

We used to call these feasts a spread. But, of course, this year, it’s upon stopping or preventing a spread that we have our highest sights set. And so, many sacrifice togetherness at Christmas in hopes that 2021 brings with it the prospect of gathering safely again one day soon.

When I look back at what the year to which we are soon to say good-bye (and for many, a hearty “good riddance”) has brought and wrought, there is one gift that we all opened through the year: connection.

“Connection?” you ask, as you ponder where best to sit or the right time to do that Zoom call tonight or tomorrow. But stay with me. How many people had even heard of Zoom (as a noun or more recently a verb) before isolation was forced upon – or begged of – us? Very few. Of course, other apps have been in existence or popped up in the past months, and I’m talking about all of them in general.

We became, as a data analyst I spoke with a few weeks ago for a podcast put it, “technical immigrants.” Many of us learned how to connect via video with our families or our co-workers; some of us even hosted events or conducted interviews through the myriad tech wonders that came out this year! The learning curve was steep, but thankfully we had the time and the quiet, most of us, to sit and figure it out. And we stayed connected.

Where I thought I’d be perched on a couch for a face-to-face chat or standing at a podium, I was instead set up in a quiet corner of the house with lights, makeup, lashes – the whole thing – and doing what I love: answering and asking questions. Staying in touch in all new ways. Because we had to.

We found ourselves closer to others in isolation this year, too. While in-person visits were strongly discouraged, as they are now, we found ourselves dropping off gift bags or thermal bags of warm food for our friends and family. There was something about being restricted in our access to those for whom we care that made us think of them and wonder if there was anything they needed. The kindness that emerged when we stopped rushing, just for a bit, was a wonder to behold. It was the gift that grew as the year went on: we asked ourselves if everyone else was okay and what we could do to make sure their lives were a little easier.

A great many people have suffered this past year, and not the least of those pains felt was loneliness. Christmas just seems to shine the brightest light, not only on the joy of the season, but on the darkness that surrounds you when you’re not wrapped in the gentle company of the ones you love.

Grief – and yes, many are grieving – breaks your heart wide open and while you will never find every shard and successfully put it back in its place, what you will learn is that the holes that are left, no matter what size, leave you open to giving and receiving more love. To sharing more compassion. To feeling not only your own pain and suffering – as so many do at this moment – but to empathize and consider what others may be going through. And that empathy takes you out of your own, however briefly. I promise you that.

And so tonight at 6 o’clock Christmas Eve (in your own time zone, wherever that may be) remember the ringing of the bells mentioned here last week. Stand on your porch, your balcony, wherever you can and make a joyful sound – and yes, there are plenty of apps for that – a spirited jingle that will not only help Santa find his way for the kids, but remind the rest of us that there will always be reasons to ring bells.

In times of joy, in times of sorrow, the bells ring. Tonight this sound will also connect us in ways of gratitude towards the women and men who are working through the holidays and who have sacrificed much – including their own health in some cases – to ensure we have ours.

Once again, by staying safely apart, we will be coming together in gratitude, in the warm candy cane sweetness of fond memories and in hope of brighter days ahead. If that isn’t the spirit of Christmas, then I can’t imagine what is.

Blessings to you, my friend. Thank you for coming here this year – and I’ll be back with you on Monday, January 4th with a new journal. In the meantime, I’ll have daily posts at my facebook page if you’d like to stay in touch.

Merry Christmas. And may 2021 be a healthy and healing year for us all.

(photo taken pre-COVID)

Just a thought… The winter solstice is the time of ending and beginning, a powerful time – a time to contemplate your immortality. A time to forgive, to be forgiven, and to make a fresh start. A time to awaken. [Frederick Lenz]

Ah, the arrival of a new season. Winter solstice, when the days actually start getting longer! For this and so many other reasons, we have a glimpse of light in our futures. That unfamiliar sensation you’re experiencing may just be hope. Not to put too fine a point on it, but tonight the great conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn may just be a lovely sign of better things ahead. Or not…whatever you choose to believe.

I’ve been thinking a lot about radio these past few days: last Wednesday marked four years since CHFI and Ian “The General” MacArthur gave me a send-off fit for a fairy tale. Radio has been on my mind in all of 2020, of course, although I’m very happy to have become a podcast host for two separate clients this year, and best of all, to have been able to partner with producer/husband Rob to effect these labours of love. What a joy to share information and inspiration in ways that I hadn’t even envisioned at the start of 2020.

Of course, as I mentioned here last week, I’m also partnering once again with Cori Ashley and Ed Franks for their SuperMePrograms (which my auto correct wants to spell Supreme, and that’s okay, too). For now, we’re focussing on offering you a free download of the Prelude to the Calm meditation and inspiration pieces we did together in 2005 when my life was, oh, so different.

The reason for the timing is that we feel the need for healing and hope now more than ever, and so here it is (for a limited time). I hope you’ve had a chance to listen to the program and pass it on to friends or family for whom you just haven’t known what to get this year. (They don’t have to know it’s free, but it is a gift from the heart.)

So anyway, why am I thinking of radio? Because it was such a huge part of my life and gave me literally everything I have except my health; that, I was and am responsible for myself. But this past year, I honestly don’t think I’d have been a very good morning host: frustration and outright anger over how people weren’t taking COVID seriously would have dominated my feelings and I’m so over having filters I would likely have ticked off a lot of people.

I don’t know how I’d have handled all of these hot topics this year on the air – I mean, you know how I’ve done it here in my space. But those airwaves belong to everyone else. My blue Santa hat is off to everyone who navigated those rocky waters this year. From home. No eye contact. Here’s to the producers, too: the unsung wizards who made it all possible from afar.

And so it is that I end today’s journal with gratitude and memories to share with you of my friend and former partner Mike Cooper. The future is too bright for me to live in the past, but I do enjoy dipping my toes into those warm waters on beaches and in pools with listeners and laughing at the thought of the way we’d be in stitches before 5:30 am a lot of mornings. Those were really wonderful times, and while my life is about building new ones now, I cherish the memories – many of which you helped to make. Here’s a pic of the two of us last year.

I’m happy to tell you that popular Spirit of the Season programming will run Christmas Eve and Day on CHFI (and several other Adult Contemporary format stations in the Rogers family across Canada), so you’ll be able to relive some special moments we put together, from The Polar Express to renditions of other pieces, including The Grinch. I hope you’ll tune in.

With those fond moments in mind, I have for you today an audio chat that I recorded with Mike Cooper this past weekend. I hope you’ll enjoy our laughter, glimpses of last Christmas together in the U.S. (while HE remembered it – I totally blanked!) and the miracles and memories of the holidays that we hold dear. Take good care and I’ll be back with you here on Christmas Eve.

Just a thought… What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. [Agnes M. Pahro]

Oh, my friends, I have my fingers crossed today. Last week on our way home from a few errands with Colin, we passed by (safely and at a snail’s pace) a glorious house in our neighbourhood that has gone above and beyond in decorations this year.

I have for you a video of his reaction – our short Q & A – that I’m hoping YouTube will allow to stay up, despite a very clear verse of THE most appropriate non-Christmas song in the background, which just happened to be playing on our radio at that moment. (They’re rightfully tight about copyright).

If it’s not there, I apologize. But it really is worth the watch. This six-year-old boy’s response is everything – I promise. And if you do take the time to view it, come back to the journal to read about a special initiative being planned worldwide for one week tonight.

Have you noticed that people just seem to be going a little more over-the-top with decorations this year? For us, it means putting anything at all out in front of our house; we’ve either been that house with no lights (the first two years we were here) or away for the winter, as we were the next two.

But in 2020, as we all view a vaccine as the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel (with many more precautions to be taken, of course, until we can all breathe easily and even consider taking off our masks), the perfect analogy is those neighbours, stores and communities that are brightening our lives in any way that they can. Bless them all.

For every event that was a part of our holiday traditions that have been cancelled – the markets, the parades, the celebrations together – there has been a quiet call to add cheer in our own ways. One week tonight, on Christmas Eve at 6 o’clock, many thousands of Canadians are going to go out on their balconies or front steps and ring bells to help Santa guide his sleigh and to honour those who have kept us safe and healthy in the most challenging of years. From Blog.TO:

Etobicoke resident Craig Power shared the idea in the South Etobicoke Community Group Facebook page.

“On Christmas Eve at 6pm everyone will come outside onto their doorsteps and ring a bell for 2 minutes to spread the Christmas spirit and to help Santa fly his sleigh. After this awful year, it would be an amazing memory for the kids and communities,” he posted.

The Blog.TO story continues:

The idea appears to have originated in England, with a Facebook group called Worldwide Christmas Eve Jingle 2020 dedicated to the event. The group suggests the idea stated in Harrogate, a town in North Yorkshire, England.

“What started as a little idea for the Harrogate Community is starting to spread so thought a group would be a good idea for all communities all over the world to join in,” the Facebook page description reads.

The group encourages people around the world to go outside and ring a bell for two minutes at 6 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

It also suggests an added option of singing carols after the jingle.

“It will create a wave of bells across the world,” the page description continues. “After a tough year it would be an amazing memory for the kids and communities. End 2020 with a bit of Magic, hope and togetherness!”

We’ll be doing just that, one week tonight. I’ll have tears in my eyes, remembering those 24 years of Christmas Eve at Erin’s shows that always began with a welcome and then Chris Rea’s “Driving Home for Christmas.” In fact, as I write this, I think I’ll make sure it’s playing when we’re outside at 6 pm our time.

We’ll leave our dinner on the table and we’ll take the time remember all of those who are working on Christmas Eve (as we always have) but also the women and men who gave so much to make sure that we were safe and healthy, fed and cared for in this impossibly difficult year.

We’ll think of the fear that has swept through our country – and our planet – like some Biblical plague, and for a moment, just be grateful for our homes, our health, our families. For the gifts under the tree (and the stalwart men and women who made sure they got to our doors or mailboxes) but even more importantly, for the love that we got to share, the connections that we made by plowing through tech-fear barriers and the longing that we feel to hug and hold those that we miss so very much this year.

I’ll be back with you here on Monday – a chat with Mike Cooper on what will be Winter Solstice.