Time for some verbal catharsis

It's been a rough transition back to Nova Scotia and every day that goes by I find myself questioning whether or not I really belong here. Then I question what I'm holding in my energy field to make everything feel so difficult. What sneaky belief am I holding in my sub conscious that is slowly sabotaging my efforts at establishing a life here?

Is it fear? That I'll be right back where I was when I left? Broke, unable to find a decent job and scared half to bloody death?

Well, there's just over 200 bucks left in my bank account and no sign of a job anytime soon.

Sure I had a job, but I handed in my notice today. The logistics simply would not work.

Buddha says attachment is the source of all suffering.
I better get a pry-bar.

I just can't seem to shake the feeling that I've no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going.
I used to know.
I think.

I miss my people back in Ireland. I miss the lifestyle. I miss the music, the adventures, the nonesense of it all.

Worse still I find myself wondering if this is just a problem with my brain. I've got inadequate coping skills or maybe some chemicals are just not mixing right.

I dunno.
But I do hope I figure it out soon.

Frustrated at mediocrity and the compliance of de-valuing valuable professionals

Good evening internet, it's time we had a chat. This isn't going to be pretty, but there's something I need to get off my chest.

Please won't someone tell me why it seems to be acceptable in the province of Nova Scotia for employers to demand expertise and 3rd level education and then refuse to pay a decent salary to potential employees?

Please won't you also tell me why on earth employees in turn seem so inclined to ignore the fact that they and their skills are being chronically under-valued and in lieu of demanding to be appropriately recompensed for their skills and experience, will turn to me with deep sympathy in their voice and say well, at least it's a job... in this economy you're lucky to have any job at all.

What the hell is happening here?

Seriously?

Does anyone know?


What message are we sending out here? That the work we do isn't really valuable at all. That any idiot could do it and will do it, for little pay because son, you're luck to have a job in this economy.

How in the hell are people even expected to live on 9.65 an hour? Have you done the math? I did the math on a job offering 15 bucks an hour and it was looking to be very tight living in deed.


I went into a lot of debt with the promise that a degree would guarantee me a job once I graduated. Well that wasn't true. But, don't worry, I was told, once you've got some experience under your belt, then you're laughing. Laughing...not quite. More like shaking with fury.

Here I sit, with 5 years experience and a thirty-thousand dollar piece of paper that isn't worth the ink it was printed with, because I can't find a job. I've worked in another country, I've even run my own business yet here I am, unemployed.

And the irony, oooooh the irony is that I attend workshops, workshops that are aimed at improving my job hunting skills and my employability as a Facilitator, which are facilitated by people who have NO IDEA HOW TO FACILITATE A GROUP OF PEOPLE.

All I can do is shake my head and apply for a nice minimum wage job at Sobeys.

I've been feeling the desire to write lately.
But if you ask me now, I'm not sure what it was I wanted to say.
Probably something along the lines of how weird it is to be back in Canada.

I'm seeing things now that I never saw before...
things like, why this place has such a car culture...it's all in the design. We have the space, but I look at that as poorly planned space. It's all sprawl.

My question of the day has been, what the hell are we gonna do if we really do run out of oil? There's gonna need to be some big changes with the way we plan our towns, cities and residential areas.

I've begun to take notice of the media campaign that encourages citizens to reduce their waste by recycling...and hear (unconfirmed) that Nova Scotia doesn't actually have adequate facilities to deal with the separated waste...regardless, it seems like a band-aid solution to bad planning.


What is this obsession with space? The cars are big, the roads are big, the shops are big and the houses are big...how big does a shop really need to be? What would this place look like if instead of "communities" of houses built along a string, where the nearest shop is a 15 minute drive away, we adopted a European approach of hub-villages?

Is it really more cost effective to have one super-sized store?

How are old people supposed to access basic services- the post office, the chemist, the doctor, if everything is built along a string?

Safe to say that yes, I'm experiencing culture shock, for my own culture...or at least what used to be my own culture...

If I ever forget...

If I ever forget
to look for shapes in the clouds,
to make funny faces or to dance like crazy;

How to laugh til I cry or talk to strangers,
to get lost in music or to stop and smell the roses;

If I ever forget
how to really enjoy a good meal,
or to watch for shooting stars;

to have a hundred ideas a day
and just as many plans for adventure;

If I ever forget
that sometimes a good cry does a world of good
and a cuppa tea can soothe the soul;

that hang overs are self-inflicted,
but probably for a good reason;

If I ever forget
that children have infinite wisdom
and to laugh at myself and the world around me;


that heels are entirely about esthetics
and magazine covers are airbrushed;

If I ever forget
that personal worth is not the same as personal wealth
and I must open if I wish to receive;

That dreams are the first steps toward transformation
and it's ok to get your trousers dirty;

Would you kindly poke me with a stick, and tell me
not to take myself so damned seriously?

You know, life is pretty damn good.

I just had a great weekend.
Friday evening wasn't off to the best start. I missed the Bill Bailey performance because I was just feeling ill. Chills and aches and ick.
Saturday saw me travel to Ballymun to work with a group of children with Austism and Downs Syndrome. The session didn't go as planned, logistically speaking, but it went surprisingly well. We played Traffic Lights, we rumbled and we roared. We played shaker games and even tried the game where you get someone to wink at people in the circle to get them to stop playing. Parents thanked me and the organiser said to drop a line if I was ever back in Dublin. Nice.

After the session Dave and I went up to Belfast where we met Joe and Grainne and went out to dinner at a very loud chinese restuarant called Macau. The food and the company was great. Last visit up to see my Belfast friends and I know I'll miss them dearly. Very grateful for this big beautiful thing we call the internet.

Drove home and Paul popped in to return DVDs. I don't know what it is about that man, but every time I meet him, my creative juices get flowing and I leave absolutely inspired. He's got such a great way of putting things into perspective. He left a lovely card for me and I just feel so loved.

Finally, I received an email from the Sea Kayak Guide school. I'm in.
Just like that.
I now have to train myself to trust that my work with Non-Personal Awareness is really working and that I do not need to worry about money coming to me.

Also discovered that the drumming workshop I'll be attending the weekend after I arrive is just around the corner from Brent & Ian. How handy is that?!

Feels like things are coming together beautifully and while I'll miss this place and the people who live here, it feels like I'm stepping up to another fantastic adventure.

In my dream I was driving. It was night time and it was hard to see. I could see misty lights from cars passing quickly beside me. It grew more difficult to see the road, like a thick fog had descended.
Then I was jolted...as though I'd dozed off at the wheel and suddenly hit the shoulder. It was too late. I was going to crash and then the car was rolling.

When the car stopped moving, I checked in with myself...I was alive...I could move...

And that's when I woke up, heart pounding in my ears.

When you can't see where you're going, slow down. Otherwise, you might just crash.

I want to remember this place.

As the place I've felt more alive than I have in a long time. As the place where I danced naked and where I laughed til I cried.

I want to remember this place.

Where I breathed I cursed through the pain, using energy psychology techniques that I'm sure wigged out the artist.

I want to remember this place

Where I've been living deep in my body, feet firmly planted on the ground and smiled while smitten with a pretty girl.


What does it mean to be grounded? Peace. An absolute knowing that everything is right with the universe and I am exactly where I need to be.


I want to remember this place.

Happy birthday, Nan :)