Friday, 26 April 2013

Breaking Dawn

We have a beautiful tradition in our family. Every Easter morning we walk to the top of Mount Royal to watch the sunrise. This is my in-laws tradition, born of their catholic faith. I am not a "religious" person as such, but I love tradition and I'm quite enamoured by ritual in general. If it is meaningful to you, then I believe there is a lot to be gained from ritual. I enjoy the "buffet" of spirituality that I have access to (I play the Christian and Jewish card freely and feel a kinship to all who allow for the possibility of a little magic in the world). I like the ritual of blowing out candles on a birthday cake, for instance, and I even enjoy rituals that I've never participated in. I find the Buddhist path inspiring on a regular basis. Everyone picks and chooses to some degree, and I'm a big fan of choosing the rituals that inspire me and letting go of the rules that I have no use for. I am hoping to raise my children with a rich and diverse experience of rituals and ideas of faith. The most important notion of faith being that: everything is ok and we're all connected (roughly put).

I enjoy the Easter morning tradition because it is the only day that I drag my ass out of bed in the dark to set out and watch the sunrise. I enjoy it because there is music and singing before 6:00am. I enjoy it for the joy and hope that is in the readings we hear. I love the look on my father-in-law's face, when his family and loved ones are half asleep in the dawn-light and he can retell the story of the resurrection, just like he has done every year since my husband was a wee boy. I enjoy the bagels & lox we scarf down after the hike.

I've had a busy spring already so its a little late, but here is a glimpse of our Easter morning.


Something magic in the first light of day

After an all-nighter, the song-bird still smiles

Jack was up anyway

Welcome home, birds :)

Good Morning Harry!

chocolate rewards

a long walk down... the novelty wore off

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

A Study of 13

Being a girl...

This is Alexys. She is 13 years old, but looks much older on most days. I remember this time well. It is fantastically confusing coming into awareness as a young lady and realizing your power, or lack thereof, depending on your station. Thirteen was a reckless, angry time for me. To say I was cranky is a polite understatement. It's like saying the splinter under your nail is kind of annoying. My mother's recollection of this time is unfortunate, but not compared to my own memory. In my mind I am a sullen, emotional mess... on a good day. On a bad day I was downright rotten and made sure those around me knew it. This young lady is as sweet as pie. I'm sure she has her days but I've known her for a while and I can attest to her kind heart. I believe I was kind as well back then, in my youth. I had a great deal of empathy, I just had no idea what to do with my feelings. I just FELT SO MUCH all the time, and it was all so new. I felt my little girl-ness slipping away, and no matter how many times I returned to Anne of Green Gables or the Secret Garden (my talismans of childhood) I couldn't stop the teen years from coming. A tsunami of hormonal energy on my fragile ego. I was not ready to be whistled at or flirted with. I wanted to play but was strangely compelled to test the waters of adulthood.

I took Alexys's portrait because she still has such fresh newness in her. She is still sweet and just arriving... I love these photos of her, and I hope her adult self loves them as well someday.