Erin's Journals

Just a thought… I’d rather be honest than impressive. [Author Unknown]

Well, Dad’s lockdown in Kelowna just got more serious: he tells me now that if he goes out anywhere – including to the drug store to get supplies for his lady friend – he’s got to stay in his suite in his senior living complex for two weeks.

He was lamenting yesterday that it felt like some kind of maximum security ruling for everyone in Sandalwood, but he was half joking. And when he told me that on Easter Sunday they brought by some chocolates to everyone and a glass of “nice wine” as Dad put it, I said, “Yeah, sounds like you’re really doing hard time, Dad,” and he laughed.

As long as he’s laughing, he’s doing all right. Most of us are – including our 90-year-old fit and feisty friend Helen (who will cringe that I just included her age here). I talked to her yesterday and she’s missing hugs; she lives in her own Toronto-area apartment and is usually out at 5:30 am to join her friends in some good mall cardio. That’s walking, not shopping; she and I have differing ideas on that, I think!

But here’s a little slice of her life that I still chuckle about: every single week for over fifty years, Helen has gone to the hairdresser to get her hair washed and styled (and obviously sometimes cut, or her kids could just climb up her braid to get to her apartment). Not these days, though. Her daughter actually had to buy shampoo for her, and last week added hair spray to the shopping list.

I love Helen. She’s independent and proud, and now using some old curlers she had in her cupboard – I picture the grey metal and brush-spiky things my mom used to use in the 60s – and learning how to put ’em in. It’s so good to have a laugh with Helen when we chat, as we did yesterday when I was feeling blue and reached out hopefully to brighten two days at once.

Here’s Helen in happier and well-coiffed days at our place in Jackson’s Point. Molly isn’t missing a moment of the action.

There can be no doubt that by missing visiting with others, getting out to have some much-needed exercise that helps with balance and health, and just receiving that simple hug, the older ones among us (and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that for Helen “elderly” is a four-letter word) are the ones who have more than their share at stake here.

As I say about grief, there’s no blue ribbon, no contest, in suffering. But my heart is with the older folks, many of whom are having trouble even comprehending why they’re not getting the visitors that they used to.

While Rob and I have each other, so many are alone right now – people of all ages. But I thought I’d link you to an uplifting radio story on cbc.ca about a Toronto man, Brian Corcoran, who actually took a part-time job in a seniors’ facility so that he could be with his mom. Imagine.

There are big stories that make it to the radio or TV or internet of the losses, the sacrifices, the hardships – financial, emotional, physical – and the suffering. But there are the little stories, too.

Some break your heart, some lift your heart. And that’s our life today. An unending tide that rolls in and rolls out again, carrying with it some moments (or as I felt yesterday, hours) of depression and others of hope and inspiration. In and out, over and over.

Please don’t write to remind me of the things for which I should be grateful. I see them and know them and am thankful every day. That’s not what I need. What I need is this here, right now. Some honest interaction that isn’t judged, and that certainly is not meant to put a damper on your day.

At the risk of repeating myself, I am just so grateful to you for being here. For having forged this connection, either recently or decades ago. For being a lifeline. We all need one these days. And we also need to give ourselves permission to put our necessary blessing-counting on hold and just feel lousy.

Luckily for me, I have a few people who are there when the ditch dips begin. And one of them even added an extra Facetime with a special little boy to raise our spirits. Sometimes just watching a kid cut circles out of his Play-Doh will do that.

All we can do is ride that tide and do our part to make sure these murky waters recede by being helpers, doing everything (even when that means nothing) and eventually healing ourselves, our communities and our country. And by keeping that lifeline – our connections – strong.

Because if you’re like me, the time you least feel like chatting is exactly when it can do the most good. Kind of like writing. So, thank you.

I’ll back with you tomorrow.

Just a thought… Hope. It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat. [Tahereh Mafi]

Did you happen to catch the wonderful performance by Andrea Bocelli yesterday in an empty Il Duomo in Milan? (Spoiler alert: he finishes by going outside and singing “Amazing Grace.”)

I linked to it on my Facebook page if you’re looking for half an hour of inspiration, chills and just the most beautiful Easter gift. What a wonderful way to start our morning – that is, after our Facetime with a certain little boy and his family in Ottawa.

I almost wish I’d included this shorter Canadian video in yesterday’s renewal-themed Easter Sunday journal, but here we are. It’s Monday, and even though so many of us are not in the regular 9-5 (or in my case, the old 5-9) routine, we can all use a little boost.

This was sent to me by Elizabeth and it took me a few days to open it; I’ve found myself getting more emails than usual, as people just like me look for ways to connect outside the four walls of the place where they are self-isolating. (Which just serves to remind me of how lucky I am that you come here to share a few minutes with me.)

This video, according to cbc.ca, is from Voices Rock Medicine. It’s a choir made up of women physicians from the Greater Toronto Area who connected virtually to perform a goosebump-inducing version of the Rankin Family’s “We Rise Again.”

I think of these women, their families, the risks they take every day and the way they’re running into fires from which so many of us are fortunate enough to be able to shelter. The strength and the gifts that these women share with us here and every day are a reminder of the reasons we have to do as we’re asked and stay home, stay safe.

They describe it as a message of “gratitude and positivity during these challenging times.” Enjoy this. I know I did more than once, the second time with tears. Thank you ONE and ALL.

Just a thought… Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal and new life. [Janine Di Giovanni]

A very Happy Easter to you on this blessed Sunday.

Every day that we are safe and healthy is, in fact, a blessed one, but this day shines a light on fact that, as Anne Lamott so beautifully put it, we can dance again, but with a limp.

Here’s to dancing, with or without your Easter bonnet. Here’s to recognizing the signs of spring and knowing in our hearts that like the seasons, this, too, shall pass. Rob and I were remarking yesterday how grateful we are that this didn’t hit us in November when nature seems so muted and sad.

With the hope that comes with spring, we imagine re-emerging or returning to our lives stronger and with more gratitude for the things we took for granted just a month ago. The quick trips to a bountifully-stocked store for something we need, without obsessing over how long the lines will be or whether or not our makeshift masks will help keep us and others safe.

The joy of hugging and holding those people we love and miss so dearly, more with each passing day. But especially today when we should be sharing a meal of celebration.

The simple pleasure of sitting on a bench and watching the ducks going about their daily lives.

Rob and I walk for half an hour each day as Molly checks her pee-mails and does her thing (she’s in this picture down to the right just waiting for our walk to resume).

We wave to passersby out for their daily exercise and smile at people whose faces we’ve never seen before. We keep our distance, go home and find ways to keep busy.

But on those walks, the displays of nature in her glory – the sweet cloying smells of hyacinth and trees blooming in baby shower pinks – keep us grounded and remind us of the beauty that survives within us and without us (to paraphrase George Harrison).

We cherish the sunny optimism of daffodils, the raucous reds of bushes we’ve yet to identify and the various pleasing scents that waft on the gentle spring breeze. And we stop to wonder at a tree whose branches seem barely strong enough to eventually bear huge blooms, but which, for now, appear to be adorned with the brightest Easter eggs we’ve ever seen.

These are our gifts, the not-so-hidden eggs we discover anew each day in searching for ways to shift our thoughts away from what we don’t have, and instead silently and steadily list the things we have been given.

On this Easter Sunday I wish you renewed hope with the reminder that we can do this.

And with thanks, I’ll be back with you here tomorrow.

Just a thought… Deep conversations with the right person are priceless. [Author unknown]

I hope that this day finds you with a peaceful heart, a warm cup of whatever wakes you up or soothes your mind, and some time to share with me.

A little while back, before the world turned upside down, I was invited to talk with a man I think you may know and remember from his work nationally on CBC television and radio. He’s found a new calling – quite literally – as an ordained spiritual director and host of the podcast “Not That Kind of Rabbi.”

As we find ourselves in this holiest of weeks on many religious calendars (with Ramadan beginning April 23rd), I thought I’d wait until today to share with you our talk.

I’ve had the chance to sit down with Ralph before in what seems a different life: I was hosting my television show on Rogers and he was a guest. But this was like no other interview in which I’ve taken part: we delved into the spiritual, the reality of life after loss and so very much more. Ralph is a kind, intelligent, giving and compassionate host and it was my honour to share this time with him.

So settle in, grab a cup of whatever soothes your soul and enjoy this episode. I certainly did. I literally had to sit and catch my breath to ground myself when it was done. I hope you get as much out of my talk with Ralph as we did.

I’ll be back with you tomorrow with a tree that mother nature has adorned in a very special way for Easter.

Just a thought… If there is one thing that is constant in this world, it is the power of music. [Josh Groban]

It’s Good Friday and on this holy day for so very many, we bow our heads for a few moments in thanks. For sacrifice. For suffering in the name of others, – something we’re seeing all around us as those people who work to keep a wobbly world turning as best it can give all they have to lighten the load of those of us fortunate enough only to be tasked with staying in and staying safe. And for faith.

We reflect on the teachings of our past, the beliefs we hold now and the strength we’re being called upon to find within ourselves. These days, it is easier to put ourselves in the shoes of others – those for whom we may have barely spared a thought in the past.

Those who are alone – all the time.

Those who live with the uncertainty of where their next meal or place to sleep is going to be.

Those who suffer through anxiety and addiction, who live in their own personal hell day after day, and who are so often shunted to the sidelines as we go about our daily lives. So busy. So centered on ourselves.

If the teachings of holy books have crossed your mind more than usual during this past month, perhaps they have been thoughts of kindness, of sharing, of treating others how we ourselves would want to be treated. The simple act of remembering and connecting with those who want to hear our voices or simply know they’re being remembered has been appreciated more than we ever could have imagined.

And as the calendar blurs and one anticipated event after another gets a big black line drawn through it, we focus not on what’s going on outside our lives, but within them. On those we cherish. Those we miss. Those who need our thoughts and care more than ever before.

Jesus said, “This is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)

And on this day, we are reminded more than ever of the importance of kindness. So it’s perfect that I have this beautiful piece to share with you. On February 5th, Jann Arden paid a visit to Doane Uschool, a registered charitable organization, to record a cover of the song “Try a Little Kindness” made famous by Glen Campbell.

Here’s a link. Take a moment to watch Jann and 165 of these beautiful students. I promise that it’ll raise your spirits and maybe even raise some money for their kids’ music charity.

Smile and sing along as I did and take in the bright hope that emanates from each of these children’s faces. Maybe you’ll be inspired to make a little donation – or music – of your own. And I’ll be back with you tomorrow.