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“Life is a cycle. A cycle is a circle. And in a circle all things return to where they began.”

This is a quote I heard a Cherokee elder say many times. As I was preparing to publish this post, this quote suddenly popped into my mind. I haven’t heard it or thought of it for over 10 years.

And so, this post has swung into a new direction and I’m going with it. I hope you will get on and go for the ride with me.

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According to Wikipedia, misery loves company is an idiom referring to the observation that one person’s misery makes others miserable…

I felt grumpy today and realizing I’m grumpy makes me grumpier.

Instead of trying to cheer myself up I found myself looking for more reasons to feel nasty.

When you are having a bad day one thing after another seems to go wrong. Have you noticed this? It gets so ridiculous that if you stop a minute to think about it, the situation starts to become funny.

I’m not a mean-spirited person and although there are days I feel that way, I don’t believe I want to make others miserable.

But who wants to hang around with a grump? I don’t. When I feel this way I make a judgement that this is bad, and automatically that judgement sends me farther into the cave. Resisting it makes it stronger.

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There is a thunderous applause.

The curtain rises and the lights dim. A lone figure walks through the shadows, across the stage and stops. A hush falls over the audience.

A spotlight cuts through the silence and lights up centre stage.

If you’re curious, please stay for the show.

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I dreamt that I died. I felt no pain. There had been no accident.

There were no tears or sadness. No darkness.
No loss.

I couldn’t remember the details of this dream. I just knew that I had died. This feeling haunted me all day.

I couldn’t shake it. It clung to me like a suit of armour.

My thoughts became heavy and dark. I wondered what this all meant. Was I going to die?

In desperation, I took a quiet moment to reflect on the dream. This is the vision that came to me.

My body lay lifeless on the ground. Suddenly it wrinkled like a piece of plastic being exposed to extreme heat. It shrivelled up into itself, folding into my heart.

My heart had not changed. It was stronger than ever, beating with vitality. Fully alive. I could feel the warmth. I could even sense the richness of the brilliant red blood that still fed me.

In slow motion, my heart opened like a beautiful flower opening to the rays of sunshine. I imagined the heavenly scent of fresh spring blossoms. Then, gently, one petal at a time, we expanded into the space around us, rose from the ground and vanished.

I was in awe of this beautiful vision. It was not what I had expected. Could death be so beautiful?

This dream and vision visited me on January 9, 2000. I reflected on them this morning as I was reading through my dream journal. I don’t remember if I ever decided what this dream meant to me back then. What does it mean to me today?

After reading Harmony’s latest post entitled “The Eclipse” at Golden Zen, I see what this dream means to me now.

If we fear our darkest thoughts they will continue to run our lives. But, if we take a moment to stop running and sit with them, we could uncover something special.

Perhaps they are seeds that need a ray of sunshine to grow. And, perhaps they are waiting there in the shadows to empower us beyond our wildest dreams.

Three bears have lost their lives in the past week after acting aggressively in a Coquitlam neighbourhood.

I’ve heard about bear sightings in the Vancouver area over the last few summers, but nothing quite like this.

This picture was taken by a friend of mine in North Vancouver. A bear got into their garbage before the garbage truck came by.

Seemingly a harmless episode. But this year has been a different story.

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This is Cooper.

He hatched sometime around May 14th. I called him Cooper because he “flew the coop” three weeks after this picture was taken, at four weeks of age.

Cooper is a baby pigeon and his mom built a nest on my friend’s balcony.

We called it the pigeon’s condo. It simply consisted of four twigs and was built on the dirt in an old flower pot.

A baby pigeon is called a squab. My friend thinks Cooper isn’t much to look at, and some of you might agree. He calls him Mop Head. But, I think he’s adorable.

His mother would sit in the nest, right on top of him. I wondered how he could breathe under all those feathers. But then again, take a look at the size of his beak.

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