• I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the sewing machine. I slowly tip toed down the stairs to see my mom still there –– even during all hours of darkness – the television on and her hands hard at work. She would end up creating the best black cat costume I’d ever seen. October was cold in our neck of the woods. We usually saw snow at least once during the month and our costumes had to do more than just disguise our little spirits; they also had to keep out the chill of the cool Halloween air. Maybe it was the excitement of going out after dark. Maybe it was the endless stream of refined sugar that coursed through our veins. Maybe it was the uncertainty of what hid around every corner. But Halloween has always been my favourite holiday of the year. For a girl who didn’t feel like she fit in very well, becoming someone else for a day was something worth waiting for. And so I became… I became the black cat that carried superstition with every step. I became the popular cheerleader that I knew I would never really be. I became the Southern Belle from another time and place. I became. Sometimes I believe that Halloween was created for people like me; with restless souls and haunted minds. For one night a year, a spell was cast and we could roam among the rest; mysteries lingered, identities dissolved, longings revealed. Even now, though I find my truest self exists without a mask, I still love this night most of all. We will light our lanterns and carve our pumpkins. We will welcome all the ghosts and goblins with reckless abandon. And we will celebrate that tiny corner of unrest that lives in all of us. 🖤 #happyhalloween #theviewfromhere #fromwhereistand #writer
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    I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the sewing machine. I slowly tip toed down the stairs to see my mom still there –– even during all hours of darkness – the television on and her hands hard at work. She would end up creating the best black cat costume I’d ever seen. October was cold in our neck of the woods. We usually saw snow at least once during the month and our costumes had to do more than just disguise our little spirits; they also had to keep out the chill of the cool Halloween air. Maybe it was the excitement of going out after dark. Maybe it was the endless stream of refined sugar that coursed through our veins. Maybe it was the uncertainty of what hid around every corner. But Halloween has always been my favourite holiday of the year. For a girl who didn’t feel like she fit in very well, becoming someone else for a day was something worth waiting for. And so I became… I became the black cat that carried superstition with every step. I became the popular cheerleader that I knew I would never really be. I became the Southern Belle from another time and place. I became. Sometimes I believe that Halloween was created for people like me; with restless souls and haunted minds. For one night a year, a spell was cast and we could roam among the rest; mysteries lingered, identities dissolved, longings revealed. Even now, though I find my truest self exists without a mask, I still love this night most of all. We will light our lanterns and carve our pumpkins. We will welcome all the ghosts and goblins with reckless abandon. And we will celebrate that tiny corner of unrest that lives in all of us. 🖤 #happyhalloween #theviewfromhere #fromwhereistand #writer
  • Dressing up as the refined gentleman that his 85 lbs teenage self is most definitely not right now. He has committed to barking with a British accent to stay in character... 😆 #halloween #theviewfromhere #puppiesofinstagram #englishcreamgoldenretriever
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    Dressing up as the refined gentleman that his 85 lbs teenage self is most definitely not right now. He has committed to barking with a British accent to stay in character... 😆 #halloween #theviewfromhere #puppiesofinstagram #englishcreamgoldenretriever
  • Sipping coffee in the background. #wordlover #fromwhereistand #sonder #mood
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    Sipping coffee in the background. #wordlover #fromwhereistand #sonder #mood
  • On March 17th of this year, my family and I were flying home from Miami in the early weeks of the global pandemic. During our descent into Montreal, something went wrong. One engine had flames shooting out of it and the plane began violently shaking. And for the next twenty minutes, with my two children on one side and my husband on the other, we waited through the eeriest silence I’ve ever known. We landed on the tarmac at Montreal airport to dozens of emergency vehicles and firetrucks. We landed to fellow passengers throwing up, having panic attacks and needing medical attention. We landed to reports from residents who lived nearby claiming that they heard an explosion and looked outside to see a plane on fire. I barely slept for the next three days. If asked, my daughter will tell you that her favourite part of the pandemic is knowing that she can’t fly anywhere. Of course, this entire memory is blurred together with lockdowns and quarantines and home schooling and case numbers. But as time passes, space seems to find its way between each event and slowly, I am beginning to sit with them as separate entities. Each one, its own experience to be processed and metabolized. I read recently that—as humans—we only come into the world being afraid of two things; falling and loud noises. That means that everything else, is a learned behaviour. Plane crashes. Spiders. Rejection. Failure. Heartbreak. We are afraid of these things because we are taught how to be afraid of them. We dive into the joy of petting a dog, only to have our hand get bit. We dive into the excitement of traveling, only to have our plane catch on fire. We dive into the risk of love, only to have our hearts broken. These things are scary and hard and most of all, they leave a mark; forever reminding us of the potential pain that comes with being human. But, here’s the thing... (continued below)
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    On March 17th of this year, my family and I were flying home from Miami in the early weeks of the global pandemic. During our descent into Montreal, something went wrong. One engine had flames shooting out of it and the plane began violently shaking. And for the next twenty minutes, with my two children on one side and my husband on the other, we waited through the eeriest silence I’ve ever known. We landed on the tarmac at Montreal airport to dozens of emergency vehicles and firetrucks. We landed to fellow passengers throwing up, having panic attacks and needing medical attention. We landed to reports from residents who lived nearby claiming that they heard an explosion and looked outside to see a plane on fire. I barely slept for the next three days. If asked, my daughter will tell you that her favourite part of the pandemic is knowing that she can’t fly anywhere. Of course, this entire memory is blurred together with lockdowns and quarantines and home schooling and case numbers. But as time passes, space seems to find its way between each event and slowly, I am beginning to sit with them as separate entities. Each one, its own experience to be processed and metabolized. I read recently that—as humans—we only come into the world being afraid of two things; falling and loud noises. That means that everything else, is a learned behaviour. Plane crashes. Spiders. Rejection. Failure. Heartbreak. We are afraid of these things because we are taught how to be afraid of them. We dive into the joy of petting a dog, only to have our hand get bit. We dive into the excitement of traveling, only to have our plane catch on fire. We dive into the risk of love, only to have our hearts broken. These things are scary and hard and most of all, they leave a mark; forever reminding us of the potential pain that comes with being human. But, here’s the thing... (continued below)
  • A while back, my son was looking up research about earthquakes for a project he was doing at school and we learned about the way that the ground shifts beneath us. It turns out that the various plates of the Earth are always displacing. It’s a natural occurrence that we don’t normally feel because when that shifting goes unobstructed, the movement is smooth and the energetic release is subtle. It’s when there is a block to that natural movement that a new force begins to have an impact. Stress builds. Tension rises. Pressure mounts. Until... Until it all becomes too much. Until the energy finally breaks free. Sometimes in violent and destructive ways. I read once that nearly all tension in a relationship is rooted in the first unresolved issue that was shared between those people. I had to sit with that statement for a while. I had to let it sink into my bones and settle into my being. Because as I read this, I was also beginning to understand the value of having people in your life who are willing to struggle with you. I wasn’t raised in a home that knew how to manage conflict. When issues arose, we either erupted or we walked away. But we never sat down and allowed our most vulnerable selves to join us at the table. So I grew up believing that conflict was either a curse to be unleashed or a frailty to be outrun. But there was no recovering from it. And I believed this for a long time. Conflict, by its very nature, tends to get a bad rap. Somewhere along the way, we were taught that we’re always supposed to get along and avoid the hard conversations that need to happen when we don't. But if the ground we stand on can teach us anything, it’s this… Not dealing with tension doesn’t make it go away. It simply builds. Until something breaks. And odds are, the very relationship you think you are protecting will suffer the most damage. Cracks will develop. Anger will erupt. Tidal waves will carry everything away. (continued below...)
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    A while back, my son was looking up research about earthquakes for a project he was doing at school and we learned about the way that the ground shifts beneath us. It turns out that the various plates of the Earth are always displacing. It’s a natural occurrence that we don’t normally feel because when that shifting goes unobstructed, the movement is smooth and the energetic release is subtle. It’s when there is a block to that natural movement that a new force begins to have an impact. Stress builds. Tension rises. Pressure mounts. Until... Until it all becomes too much. Until the energy finally breaks free. Sometimes in violent and destructive ways. I read once that nearly all tension in a relationship is rooted in the first unresolved issue that was shared between those people. I had to sit with that statement for a while. I had to let it sink into my bones and settle into my being. Because as I read this, I was also beginning to understand the value of having people in your life who are willing to struggle with you. I wasn’t raised in a home that knew how to manage conflict. When issues arose, we either erupted or we walked away. But we never sat down and allowed our most vulnerable selves to join us at the table. So I grew up believing that conflict was either a curse to be unleashed or a frailty to be outrun. But there was no recovering from it. And I believed this for a long time. Conflict, by its very nature, tends to get a bad rap. Somewhere along the way, we were taught that we’re always supposed to get along and avoid the hard conversations that need to happen when we don't. But if the ground we stand on can teach us anything, it’s this… Not dealing with tension doesn’t make it go away. It simply builds. Until something breaks. And odds are, the very relationship you think you are protecting will suffer the most damage. Cracks will develop. Anger will erupt. Tidal waves will carry everything away. (continued below...)