Love in its smallest measure

“What the world generally refers to as love is an intense emotional condition, combining physical attraction, possessiveness, control, addiction, eroticism, and novelty. It’s usually fragile and fluctuating, waxing and waning with varying conditions. When frustrated, this emotion often reveals an underlying anger and dependency that it had masked. That love can turn to hate is a common perception, but here, an addictive sentimentality is likely what’s being spoken about, rather than Love; there probably never was actual Love in such a relationship, for hate stems from pride, not Love.

Real Love* is characterized by the development of a Love that is unconditional, unchanging, and permanent. It doesn’t fluctuate – its source isn’t dependant on external factors. Loving is a state of being. It’s a forgiving, nurturing, and supportive way of relating to the world. Love isn’t intellectual and doesn’t proceed from the mind; Love emanates from the heart. It has the capacity to lift others and accomplish great feats because of it’s purity of motive.

The capacity to discern essence becomes predominant; the core of an issue becomes the center of focus. As reason is bypassed, there arises the capacity for instantaneous recognition of the totality of a problem and a major expansion of context, especially regarding time and process. Reason deals only with particulars, whereas Love deals with entireties. This ability, often ascribed to intuition, is the capacity for instantaneous understanding without resorting to sequential symbol processing. This apparently abstract phenomenon is, in fact, quite concrete; it’s accompanied by a measurable release of endorphins in the brain.

Love takes no position, and thus is global, rising above separation. It’s then possible to be “one with another” for there are no longer any barriers. Love is therefore inclusive and expands the sense of self progressively. Love focuses on the goodness of life in all its expressions and augments that which is positive – it dissolves negativity by recontextualizing it, rather than by attacking it.

This is the *Love of true happiness, but although the world is fascinated with the subject of Love, * only 0.4 percent of the world’s population ever reach this level of evolution of consciousness.”

Dr. David R. Hawkins M.D. PhD - Power VS Force

You may wonder why I started out with this big long quote. Well I’ll tell you, it’s been a hell of a year for me, a lot of my friends, and my family. I want to be perfectly clear about the business at hand. Several friends have gone through some serious upheavals through the flood in many ways. One friend was about to get married to her long time love, sold her condo (on the river) and was in the process of moving her things to her intended’s condo. During his own stressful moments, he called off the wedding, left her in the middle of a flooded building trying to unpack/pack, and make new evacuation arrangements. She was devastated, but not destroyed. Today, she is able to see this same man, smile, wave, and wish him well in his new life, 13 weeks later.

The capacity to Love unconditionally is foreign to most people. As well as being an alien emotion in its purest form, it frightens most human beings senseless. Where they commit acts of desperation to contain it or distance themselves from it. The common form of love wears many masks, and many of those masks only have layers of opaque glass to see through. Often times we look through these myopic tunnels and swear we know who or what is in front of us, all the while swearing fealty to someone we barely know anything about.

There are few among us who can look back at our past and say we truly Loved. I believe when you truly experience unconditional love you take on a greater understanding of human nature and your capacity to forgive even the most heinous of indiscretions.

No matter what the crime, if you love unconditionally, you forgive. In any case you should always forgive as withholding that is akin to holding yourself hostage until you let it go. Lets be smart here, forgiveness is not weak or asking for trouble. You can most certainly forgive someone for not being who you want them to be. Essentially that’s the bottom line here. People are who they are. If they don’t conform to your expectations than perhaps you viewed them from your foggy glass masks. Forgiving is setting yourself free. After all, they have to live with themselves, but you do not. That is the key to forgiveness. You are free to forgive, and you are also free to walk away and wave and smile from a distance.

As a child, I went to church on Sunday, learned the valuable lesson of how to turn the other cheek and forgive. The missing link in that lesson is to turn the other cheek, forgive, and then back out of reach and stay out of reach. You can still love anyone unconditionally without putting yourself in harm’s way.

One of my older neighbors, from next door, called me up a few weeks in to the fray. She had been staying with her son and daughter-in-law. Her tears were flowing long before I arrived at the parking lot of the Starbucks in our neighborhood. Her daughter-in-law had asked her for money for groceries. She had given it to her right away, only to overhear the girl complain to her husband that she thinks his mother had stolen the money off the kitchen counter. There were other issues, too horrible to regurgitate here, but she cried on my shoulder for two hours. It was hard to see, this lovely grandmother broken down and rejected by the people that had given her shelter in the wake of Canada’s biggest natural disaster. In a time when she needed to feel safe, protected, and welcomed, she was chided when they grew tired of having a guest, they made fun of her if she mistakenly asked about a location on the news, and worse than anything, she felt in the way. We all found weakness in each other during this flood, and there were those that didn’t have any serious disruption to their lives who showed their truest weakness as selfishness.

From the people I train with to the neighbors in my building, we have all shared stories of the Great Flood and how it’s changed the dynamics of everything for most of us.

This flood has seen the attrition of short term acquaintances and has strengthened the bonds of many years of shared experiences with the deep understanding of true friends. These are friends we all have known for many years. Friends to whom time and distance became irrelevant. The flood made more changes in all of us than we cared to mention in public.

Patience in most has waned since June. They have less tolerance for emotional stinginess in close circles. When times were tough and they needed real emotional support, it came from the most remote areas of their lives that they had never counted on, and then some of the people closest to them were emotionally unavailable and their concern was strongly for themselves. I watched the appearance of close knit circles melt away and what we were all left with was a much smaller, tighter group. All of us having faced the demons of hardship and remembering each other before ourselves, we bonded together and formed a deeper bond in our shared tragedy.

Even in my weakest and darkest hour, I still Love unconditionally, those who were there and those who were not there. That was my lesson in all of this. I learned that regardless of how I see someone, I can still care about them, what happens to them, but I can care from a distance.

I remember when my ex-husband was being not so pleasant to me early on in our marriage and he asked with complete sham solemnity if I still loved him after what he had done. My reply was simple and made him laugh out loud. “of course I will always love you, but I just don’t like you very much right now”. Back then, I was never sure if it was actually true, what I had said. After this summer, I can honestly say yes, I can still unconditionally Love everyone.

Don’t forget to check your Compass!

Things that go BUMP in the night...

After being unceremoniously evacuated out of my home this last few months, being told to stay out for 6 weeks give or take, and then being allowed back in August 1st only to be informed our occupancy was conditional, excuse me if I am a little lax about unpacking the boxes just yet.

It is the crunch time. The last week of our 'conditional' occupancy in my building on the river. (for a few days this summer it was IN the river... but I digress).

The owners were told certain repairs had to take place to be cleared for permanent residence by the City Inspectors and rightly so. Everyone who has been in this building knows we all live here for the location, and the ratty carpet in the hallways, the 1970's wallpaper, and light fixtures in the common areas were never something we thought about. We stayed because we all know each other, we are neighbours, we are friends and have been for as long as I have been here. We help each other with moving, driving to and fro, picking up something left out by mistake, and storing each other's stuff when needed. We spend hours in the sunlight on the front porch, watching the traffic, the squirrels, and laughing about the random subjects that cross our minds. We talk about the news, the new buildings, and the old buildings not ready for their occupants to go home yet.
After the flood, we came by everyday to check on our places, we gathered on the porch and watched the sad and defeated inhabitants of our quiet little block drag suitcases back and forth in the mud, then the dirt, and now the dust. We weren't so chatty then, as we all felt each other's pain at being left to figure out the maze of public assistance, the lack of information from qualified sources about what we could or could not do or apply for. We all pitched in with the 40-a-day volunteers to drag the muddied remnants of our lives into the street to be hauled away by the City Waste Department. Let me just say, that crew had the toughest job, worked the longest hours, and deserves a freakin' medal for what they did to clean up the mess.

So by this time next weekend, I'll know what the status is. Do I stay or do I go.

I left the boxes packed so I could leave again if I had to. I have no plan, nor do I want one. My new contracts will take me away most of the time anyway so putting everything back in storage for a few years is not out of the question. I like having roots, but I would rather have wings.

With no storage area left in the building, I have boxes packed and stacked in the corners and around the perimeter of my suite. Some times, I have to find something to finish a job for a client, and I'll have to sort through a box or two to get the right tool. Occasionally, I am in such a focused state, I forget I've left contents strewn over the ottoman and the boxes wide open in the hall. In the night, if I wake up and decide to get a glass of water, I frequently find myself scraping my legs on the boxes, tripping over the left behind contents, or generally spouting oaths of discomfort... loudly... at inappropriate times... after I have nicked my toes on a rolling vinyl backdrop. Highly unpleasant but tolerable just to be in my own space.

As of today, nothing that the City Inspectors have asked for has been completed and we are in the last week before the Inspector comes back to certify our building. There is a boiler here in the city, waiting to be installed, according to the ones that are here all the time, the carpet people have come and done estimates. It would be smart business to keep the money in the bank until they absolutely have to spend it, but really, putting every one at peace might actually be in their best interests at this stage.

If all goes well next weekend, I can write about something else. If not, everything is for sale, and I will be taking all serious offers seriously, because I'm tired of bumping into boxes every night. ;)

Don't forget to check your compass!

Cole

Dear Universe ... I am unbreakable...

In my short 46 years I have learned so much about myself and human nature in general. I've learned that I know a lot more than I used to but I am still learning every day, and I do not know everything yet.

In my experience, and there have been a few, in fact let me detail some of them for you just now...

I have been beat up, teased, and bullied by rough housing family members, bitten scratched, and growled at by farm animals, thrown off of horses into steel gates, trampled and squeezed by hungry cows, nearly frozen to death while walking to school, left in a hot vehicle in the summer by an errant parent, almost drown in the pond on the back 40, picked on, bullied, and teased for 8 looong years in public school. (thanking the universe for private education system), left on a deserted country road by a boy who said 'put out or get out' ( I chose to 'get out' and walk the 20 km back to the farm house). I've been stood up, gossiped about by jealous mean girls, left in a third world country to fend for myself and my two small children by a philandering spouse, lived through a Royal Coup d' Tat only 10 blocks from the action, left for dead by a third case of dysentery, cheated on, lied to, defied, disrespected, bullied by adults, more gossip, exclusion, jealousy, cheated death again, survived death threats by angry incarcerated young men, witnessed humans being very bad to each other, put a thriving business on hold to care for an ailing mother, buried a father, watched my children be forced to grow up too early because they had no choice, guilt of the single parent, poverty, hunger, stalkers, clients that don't pay even though they loved my pictures, boyfriends that love but don't commit, friends that talk the talk but can't walk the walk, and 2013 started with a bang, potential boyfriend decides he is a bad man so ends it before it even had a chance to start, get evacuated a few days later from the flood plain, 6 weeks of muddy, dirty cleaning, 6 weeks of clients cancelling all the work due to flooding, 6 weeks out of work with the bills still coming in, request an exorcism for the utility company computer for sending me disconnection notices and exorbitant bills for a currently uninhabitable address I am not allowed to go home to, try and salvage personal items from waterlogged and silt muddied building, give up after 5 looong days and throw it all in the muddy smelly heap on the front, what used to be a lawn, watch the front end loaders and bobcats scoop away personal possessions and memories and dump them in a big trucks to haul away the mess, laugh almost hysterically at the phone when the 'Tax man' calls while standing in my former front yard looking at the mess that was once my quiet, sleepy, neighbourhood, tell the 'Tax Man' to check my postal code and get back to me tomorrow, offer to put the stylishly green and dirty rubber boots back on so we can go to the dump together to find the stinking wet pile of boxes that used to be my intricately organized tax filing system, then the 'Tax Man' declined my very thoughtful offer and we called a truce as he realized last time the audit man found that they OWED ME money and my books were in order, because it's not like I had anything better to do, then we are allowed a 'conditional occupancy' back at the beachfront property and power is finally on after 6 weeks, and the cleaning begins with wiping down everything and getting the gritty silty dust from the riverbed and glacial deposits off of everything I own that was left behind and still dry, fridge smells from the food that thawed after the first 3 days with no power, bleaching fridge, baking soda, still smells, throw out any dried goods that were not sealed in plastic, and tastes and smells of dirt and feels gritty, hungry, tired, and sleeping on a floor mat because I was smart enough to remove almost all soft goods to high ground during the clean-up, all soft goods left in humid apartment smell like dirty river water and need dry-cleaning/excessive washing, thankful for the good sense of removing big ticket soft goods as cleaning the stinky flood smell would have been too expensive, but unimpressed with sleeping arrangements, getting bed back this weekend, spent last night remembering a favourite uncle, who was of good solid character, full of kindness and patience for a young black-sheep artistic child, and a life long soldier for our great country of Canada,  who passed away after a brief illness and old age.

In all these things there were also these moments, whose weight is belied by their simplicity and far outweighed the above, the kindness of strangers in the most desperate of situations, humour and levity in desperate times, the loyalty of true friendship, truth, compassion, empathy, honour, and love. Love unfettered by the boundaries of romance and possession, but true unconditional love. I have experienced ecstasy of the saints, ( that has NOTHING to do with sex for all my more base minded friends ) I have borne witness to countless miracles and unexplained phenomenon with moments of heart stopping tension... and I am still here.

I am, unsinkable, unstoppable, unbreakable... I am superhuman. and I am still here.

Conspiracy Theorists beware...

Boston Tragedy and conspiracies abound...

SO here we are, one day after the Boston Marathon Bombing and everyone is up in arms about the details and drills and loss of life, injuries, and photos.

Now I'm going to say, this event hits me right in my camera. No, I was not there, but a few sports photojournalists were attending and covering for their respective agencies. The tightening of my chest and tension in my neck and back were instant as I received a forwarded copy of details from one of my colleague's wives, to let us all know they were okay, unharmed, and still shooting the aftermath.

The email was quite personal so I'm not going to quote, but I will say in between doing his job, he grabbed anyone he came across that needed help and did what needed to be done, forgetting the 30 + lbs of camera gear strung across his upper body.

Now I'm seeing twitter and facebook conspiracy theorists call out the government for planting the bombs to raise a police state, theories of creating fear and distrust so they can take control. Keep in mind, we all have free speech for a reason and I'd like you all, if you have any negative comments... keep it civil, intelligent, and informed. There are very young people that read my words as well.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and just say it. This is highly unlikely to be a conspiracy plot. If it is, I'll be the first to admit but I really do have to say this out loud and clearly.

What would be the outcome if the news stations, government, and local authorities announced that there was a meteor heading straight for your town. Do you think that there would be a straight orderly line up out of town? Do you think that your neighbours, that you've never spoken to in the 10 years you've lived in that town would lend you their spare car, water, food, medical supplies? No... that's definitely not what would happen. It would be absolute chaos and serious death and injury would result long before the meteor ever hit the atmosphere. Human beings are pre-programmed by DNA to fight or flight. Not everyone has the basic emotional rational control to stay calm and think. They would run, there would be survival of the fittest. There would be stampedes, looting, and irrational behaviour.

The police, fire, and government would not likely announce a bomb threat in crowds of a 100,000+ plus. That would be stupid and cause more destruction and death than the actual bombs. They would do their best to find the bombs and clear the areas affected with as little public knowledge as possible, especially if they don't know who the bombers are, or where they are. In the general public, I can see this would anger you, but it was likely necessary to keep the public from panic.

Not everyone has a calling to save lives, even their own family. In fact over half of the worlds population will save themselves first knowing it was a choice between them or their child. Ask the people who save lives for a living what they've seen.

No, there was not a conspiracy theory. It was some incredibly brave emergency responders trying to keep everyone safe, walking among the crowd, knowing they will not be able to save everyone if they don't find the explosives fast enough. Imagine knowing that and having to keep your mouth shut so people don't trample their fellow crowd members to death.

And I reiterate... take a day to think about your response before you comment in anger or rebuttal. I had to sleep on this before I wrote it.

As for me and my camera, I am happy to be here at home in Calgary today. I am alive and breathing, and I can take pictures tomorrow, but I have faced death many times and I am still here. Happy to be here too.

Don't forget to check your Compass.

Cole

Colorful ...

20 + years ago, while I was off exploring the world and losing myself in amazing experiences outside of Canada, my family had a reunion. It was in the making for a few years prior to its commencement.
In fact, my great uncle had written a piece detailing the family tree from the Russian provinces in the 1800's. At the time, not much information could be detailed about my maternal grandmother's family. All we had was centric to my Grandfather's parent's flight from a rapidly evolving communist movement in St Petersbourg. More specifically, in 1892, the trek from Eastern Canada to their Central Alberta oil rich property. I found the lack of connectivity odd.

In my spare time, which is rare these days, I often looked for information on my Grandmother's family. Not much was known pre 1900's. She came directly from the Russian provinces in the early 1900's. She had two sisters already here in Alberta and she was sent for to be the bride of the youngest heir to a farming/landowning fortune. Of Germanic/Russian speaking roots, Bavarian so we now know, she was a perfect match for the Heir apparent. A younger brother followed later, who became a war hero, whom I was close with as a very young child. He is the reason I support the Poppy Fund whenever I can.

With the help of my lovely great aunties and a few distant cousins, we've managed to piece together something of a winding path of Bavarian middle nobility that spins its web through several dynasties of the great families of Europe. We followed the path from Canada, back to Lithuania via Russia, Prussia, France, Bavaria, and back to France.

The whole point to my story is how this relates to who I am today. The characters in the history have turned out to be incredibly colorful. I had no idea when I started this journey what I would find or who I would find. It appears the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, although I have to say, the genetic coding can certainly skip a generation or two in the process. I don't believe my immediate family had ever understood my lust for life and experiences. I believe my artistic/photographic character is directly in line with my distant ancestors.

The oddest thing to see, was a portrait painted in the late 1800's of my Great, Great Grandmother. When I opened the file, it was my grandmother's face staring back at me. Actually... my face, my nose, my eyes but on a female in her 80's. She had a colorful story all on her own. She died in 1905, penniless, in the south of France. I can honestly say, based on what I know now, there are reason's people keep their family history a secret. Sometimes it's best not to know but I am glad I peeked. I can put questions about my own idiosyncrasies to rest as I now know how I managed to be so different from my sisters and parents, but related by DNA.

Travelling the world with my camera to record all the events as they unfold, is who I have been, who I am. The experiences, both good, bad, and some not too far off disasterous, are all par for the course of living.
My fever for adventure, life, and love is all a part of my colorful history. When all is said and done, I am proud to have done the things I have, lived such a massively larger than life existence, and am here to tell the stories today. When people raise their eyebrows at my life stories, I can say I come by it honestly. It's in the genes.

Now on to the next colorful adventure!

Don't forget to check your Compass!

Cole