All is welcome here

Sandra Butel beautywalk Coaching Grief Megan Devine LivYoga Festival de Marionnettes Welcome yoga self-love — *Taking a break before the next parade* Photo by Sandra Butel

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk.

beautywalk is the intentional way in which I approach every single step of my personal journey. It is about pausing to ask important questions and being still enough to hear the answers even when they are not comfortable.

These are the words that are offered as a possible mantra as I unroll my mat and gather with my fellow yogis for a Saturday morning Yang-Yin at my local yoga studio, Liv Yoga. Tears rush unbidden to my eyes and a warmth floods the centre of my chest; gratitude for what is being given here. On the, in breath, “All is,” and on the out breath, “Welcome here.” I make a note to myself that this would be a great starting point for this week’s blog as I return to where I am propped up with bolster, blocks and blanket into a much welcomed and long lasting heart opening pose.

Something magical is on its way

Thirty minutes later and I am standing at the till of the local Salvation Army store, a friendly cashier practicing her little bit of French on me as we smile at one another. I push forward a panoramic 1000 piece puzzle of a gaggle of cats gathered on a tufted hot pink sofa, a wine red long table cloth and its lacy white and cream coloured partner that I can already picture stretched out on top of the dining room table back home. My eye is drawn outside the wall of windows to the sudden influx of pedestrians that are gathering outside on Wellington Street. They are all looking down the right, their eyes straining, their necks stretching to get a better look. Something magical is on its way, I suddenly know it in my bones. My heart quickens and I grab the red cloth bag that holds my purchases and head back outside to see for myself.

I arrive just in time to have my head and heart rejoice at the vision of human ingenuity and magic making that I encounter there. To the surprise and delight of myself and other children of all ages and sizes and nationalities gathered around me, there is a larger than life sized mechanical camel (Chamôh) making its jaunty way along the pedestrianized street in front of us. A human rider, an ochre coloured turban twirled upon his head, is riding on the camel’s back. A gleam of sweat shines upon the furrow at the top of his concentrated face as he maneuvers the beast’s giant head from side to side with the movements of his arms and the steady pressure of his legs. I capture a bit of video and one still shot of this weekend’s Festival de Marionnettes, before I unlock my bike and let the energy of the moment draw me in its wake. I follow behind the giant creature, a safe distance away from the team of men who pull and release on the pulleys that bring this wondrous being to life with its locomotion.

Always Feliz

Indian music pumps out of the two large speakers mounted on either side of this living, breathing, water tank, bringing the mood to our ears and to the rhythm of our following feet. We are part of the spectacle now. Three little Asian boys walk hand in hand in hand beside me, one sporting a t-shirt that proclaims in primary reds and yellows and blues, “Always … Feliz .. Sparkly,” or some other S word meaning happy. I ponder this for a moment.

Satisfied? Sunny? Smiling? Serene? What other S words bring forth images of childlike happiness?

Whatever it is, it means he is always happy. Why wouldn't he be? There he is, just like me, following a giant puppet down the street, his two best friends on either side, hands gripping so as not to lose themselves in the crowd. I have my two best friends too: Me and Myself; I am holding fast to my sense of delight in the magical world that is being created around me. This
energy of creativity and communal delight is a familiar feeling. It feels like home to me. All those years of watching Al Simmons lead the children’s parade at the annual Regina Folk Festival, his bicycle turned trusty steed taking the lead. Whenever I could manage to pull myself away from whatever problem solving or media outlet or drama was calling my name I would follow along. Swept up in the joy and other worldliness of a good old fashioned noise and smile filled parade.

Is there anything more wonderful than this?

I grip the handlebars of my retro red and white cruiser bike and let myself reminisce; sobs echoing in my brain, tears hidden behind my school bus orange sunglasses purchased at Seattle’s Fremont Sunday Street Market in my pet sitting sabbatical days. I am fully present in this moment of wizardry; gratitude for all those who dare to create and present their work to others flooding all of my senses.

Confession time

I must admit that I have been struggling as of late; finding myself questioning everything. I have been looking for ease in a place where there is none and letting my disappointment and sense of ‘not enough’ take over for a while. It could be that I am finally grieving, these last five years having been so full of losses in my life. Job, reputation, community, purpose, sense of self, my Dad, my Mom, my stuff, the comfort of feeling that I had found a place to call home. There are a whole lot of people and things and places that used to be in my life that are not with me anymore.

It’s OK That You Are Not OK

I have found some comfort in the deep compassion toned voice of Megan Devine in the audiobook version of her masterpiece on grief, “It’s OK That You’re Not OK.” I have spent many hours letting the tears fall, no end in sight, taking refuge in my first days of time alone since we moved to Montreal in mid May, Francis having headed off on a canoe adventure in Alaska of all places. I have listened to and truly heard Megan’s kind tender that it is understandable that I feel pain as so much has been taken from me without my permission.

I miss my Mom

My dear departed Mother’s 91st birthday is coming up this Wednesday; her memory showing up on every street corner as I go about my days. She is with me as I prepare a meal with fresh garden grown ingredients and as much love as the dish can handle. She is with me as I lay on the scanner, an x-ray being made of my hips, lower back and legs. She is with me as I receive the diagnosis: severe Osteoarthritis in my right hip, some in my left hip and in my lumbar region as well as the confirmation that I have one leg that is longer than the other. She is with me as I listen to client’s tales of sorrow and loss and pain.

I miss her loving eyes; I miss her lifelong presence as a source of certainty in my life. I knew she would always love me, no matter what anyone else had to say. She was there through thick and thin. Her absence is thick and heavy like the air before a much awaited rain.

The last time she said my name

I wrote a piece last week in my writing group about the last time she spoke my name and the response was such that I have decided to include it here. It is my hope that my words will touch your heart and allow for some sense of comfort as you make your way through your own human life, full of wonder and pain, the pluses and the minuses not always being meted out in equal measure.

A text came across the miles. She was back in the hospital again. She hadn’t been feeling well and this had become a regular procedure. The senior living centre where she was living on her own, downgraded to a single since my father passed in early 2022, had a protocol that said that anyone who was not feeling well would be sent to the hospital in an ambulance.
This had become normal and in the years when Covid was at its worst I had spent my time going from one hospital bed to the other, my Mom in one, my Dad in the other. Most of these visits were really routine, nothing new to add to the already voluminous papers on their respective charts. Their ages were listed and my Dad’s congestive heart failure and on my Mom’s it was mostly about pains in her hips and troubles with anxiety. I remember one time asking the doctor if it was my Dad’s time yet. He replied, “We can’t really tell but his vitals are good so it should be a long time yet.” I didn’t bother to ask what he meant by a long time as my Dad had already had his birthday pie with a 9 and a 1 in candle form lit inside. He had blown with all his might and managed just barely to blow them both out, his asthma having made his ability to move wind much less than it used to be. Well unless you meant the other type of wind, of that he was still quite capable.
So when this text appeared on the screen of my phone from where I was lying on a bed on an island in the Philippines, I thought very little of it. I asked my brother for more information and he replied that as far as he knew they were being overly cautious as per their call to duty and she would be right as rain in no time. Why then did this nag me so? Why then did I decide to video message her? Why then when she didn’t reply and I reasoned that she probably didn’t know how to receive a video on Messenger did I buy some Skype credits and call her on her cell phone?
I knew something that I didn’t know, you know? And I am so glad I did. What followed was the most delightful conversation I think I have ever had with my Mother. Francis and Nico both got their chance too, luck having been with us that Nico had just arrived to join us. She was lucid and clear and so so full of love. She said all the things that one would want to have said to them: about love, about pride, about how much she enjoyed her time with each one of us. She was spry and funny and so so alive. At one point I held the phone so tightly to my ear, giving myself the gift of a moment with my dear Mother on my own. She said, “Please enjoy your travelling and don’t bother coming home to see me. I have good people around me and I could die in two days or two years, there is no way to know. I am well taken care of and I want so much for you to live your life to the fullest. I have had a good life, I am tired and I want to be reunited with your father and your brother Broderick who left us so long ago.”
She gave me permission and I returned the favour. I told her how much I loved her and in the tiniest of voices, I told her that she was allowed to go when she was ready. I told her I would miss her but that this was not enough reason for her to delay her trip on my behalf. I told her how much my life had been blessed by her presence and how much love we would all hold onto even in her absence. There was a melding of minds. I have never felt so close to her. I wondered vaguely at the time why she was needing to say all of these things but let it be what it was at her peaceful insistence. I was under her spell and wanted only to be present; to celebrate the moment of connection across the invisible line that tied our hand held devices one to the other across such a distance.
It was the last time I ever spoke to her. She died peacefully within 18 hours of our call. I never did ask what her cause of death had been. I am pretty sure it was just that, just like she had been in life, she was just good and ready and determined to go.

No answers … just questions

I haven’t found any easy answers to the questions I have been asking. So much of the wisdom I am turning to has been said so many times before in so many different ways. There is no easy fix, no magic bullet, no final destination where all will be revealed. There is just one step and another and another and when I pause, I find that I have travelled quite a ways from where I started, a few more worries left behind.

As the days go by and I leave room for whatever my needs and moods may be I find a small sense of comfort in the efforts that I make and that are made by others towards me to offer a shoulder, an ear, a heart.

We are all in this together and we are so much alike you and me.

May we all find a way to remind ourselves, as yoga teacher, somatic therapist, naturotherapist and friend, Angela Boismenu says with such kindness, that “All is welcome here.’ May we truly make room for whatever shows up, trusting that there is a deeper meaning hidden somewhere there.

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk. What’s yours?

Resources for Further Study and Personal Growth

I am here with my healing human heart and my brand new Professional Coach Certification (PCC) from the International Coaching Federation to be of assistance to you in your own journey of finding peace with what is and courage to change that which no longer serves you. I have over 500 hours of experience working with clients and am sure that the time we spend together will bring immense value to us both.

For a free consultation with me all you have to do is book yourself into my calendar. We will spend some time getting to know one another and by the end of the 60 minutes it will be clear if a coaching relationship with me is what is needed in your life right now. There is no pressure here to buy, simply an offer from someone who has been through a whole lot of challenges and come out the other side. A little stronger, a little more humble, a little more ready to lend an ear.

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All is welcome here