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Silencing My Way to Health My health has taken a back seat at various times throughout my life. Over four years ago I made a decision to begin to heal the emotional wounds that inevitably contributed to physical restrictions. While I found more energy and vitality with my growing acceptance of my life, I was often confused by the mixed messages in the natural healing world. As I met more practitioners of healing practices I learned that each has a passion for their field. They each also believe in their methods and have something valuable to offer clients. For me, it was a question of what might help. I wanted so much to continue uncovering links between minor and sometimes major manifestations in my body. Relying on friends' advice proved inappropriate as well. They brought to their therapy or treatment sessions their own blend of history, pathology and psychology. I, of course, had a whole different set of circumstances to deal with. During this time I met a beautiful old soul, fell in love and found myself moving to the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. Tucked into a tiny harbour on Lake Huron my new home was surrounded by fascinating rock, aromatic green cedar trees and the nurturing sounds of water brushing the shore. Here is where some of my greatest healing occurred. Here is where the answers to my questions seemed to be spelled out in the billowing white clouds or soothing sounds of loons. Here there was, more than anything else, silence. Silence is frightening for so many people. It creates a void and we have learned to be uncomfortable with voids. We fill them up with noise, food, people, work, etc. etc. We are not easily drawn into stillness unless, as I found happened to me, our circumstances place us there. Sitting on a large glacier pitted rock I gazed at the water rippling around me. Without the usual distractions of busy life I was surprised to find the silence a welcome relief. The silence around me gave way to the floodgates of emotion within. Slowly, I began to hear my soul speak. The whispering of loving messages mingled with tearful cries for help. A voice long quieted by fear was being given a forum through the silence of my surroundings. I heeded the call to awaken and found myself listening into the silence. It was a profound healing tool. Growing more comfortable with my inner guidance I was able to choose the healing methods that were in harmony with my body. When I needed a consultant I was prompted to the right person. If I wasn't, I knew the healing required solitude. I named my limestone ledge Healing Rock because as I perched on it's edges I felt enfolded by a loving universe. I felt safe and I felt I belonged. The transition to health has not been as smooth as in fairytales. As recently as this spring I found myself battling a major debilitating "illness". With coaching and support I decided to call this experience a "health transition". Once again I have had to work intensely on finding the resources and answers to my condition. Accessing my inner wisdom has been key to resolving the symptoms and I feel blessed every day for the silence that makes hearing possible. Now when people ask me for advice or guidance I feel privileged to be able to offer them an environment where they can breathe into their own silence. Therein lies the solution. By listening to their soul self they will know where to go for help and ultimately healing of the body, mind and soul. Daryl Clarke, august 2001
Does One Life Make A Difference? I've heard that there are over seven billion people on this planet. Seven Billion. That's a bigger number than I can comprehend. I know what ten feels like - that's my immediate family. I know what twenty-five feels like - that's the group that attended my Hoffman Process. I know what thirty-six feels like - that's my extended family. I know what one hundred and twenty feels like - that's the number of subscribers to my magazine. I know what three hundred and sixty feels like - that's my mailing list. From there, things get sketchy. Seven billion is a whole lot more than I can imagine. And I am only one of seven billion. How can one life out of seven billion make a difference? On any given day I can touch the lives of a lot of people. Through personal contact, telephone, postal service and the power of email I can literally communicate with hundreds of people. What I have wondered is how can I make a difference? Lost in a crowd of family, friends, co-workers, neighbours, community etc. it seems impossible to be anything more than just a number, a face or a name. How can just one life make a difference? The answers come to me as surely as I knew they would. They come because I listen. I know that if I am completely alone today, in silence and without physical connection to others I can still make a difference. Because I am, I make a difference. My being here in this time and place is not a random act. It is truly an essential part of the great mystery of life. Also, it is often assumed that to make a difference we need to have interaction with others. What is usually forgotten is that we can interact with ourselves and that is just as significant as any outer contact. It's all about energy. We give and receive energy with every breath we take. When we give back loving energy, it makes a difference. I remember honouring an influential woman by thanking her for her contribution to humanity. I told her that I felt that while I was making ripples, she was making waves. It was a borrowed statement that meant much more than it first seemed. Before long I realized how I had minimized my effect on the world because I wasn't reaching the volumes of people that this powerful speaker was addressing. That is the kind of thinking that immobilizes people and stops them from trying to be of service. These beliefs foster a sense of inadequacy which ultimately leads people to choose not to take action when the simplest of gestures always makes a difference. Every life makes a difference. Every smile; every kind thought; every loving touch; every sweet word; every sincere look; every breath. Think of the hundreds of lives, maybe even thousands of lives you may touch in a lifetime. Your being wherever you are makes a difference. What kind of difference you make is up to you. We really do reap what we sow. Think now of passing a stranger on the street. You offer them an honest, loving smile. For a brief moment in space and time you send a message of love that offers healing to another soul and ultimately to the world. It may just be the catalyst for a new beginning. What a difference one life can make! Daryl Clarke, October 2000 Gratitude Beyond Words All of my life, words have been my companion. I grew up in a rambling farmhouse with floor to ceiling bookshelves. Surrounded by literature I have always been able to find just the right word to express myself. Until now. I am stumbling these days with the word gratitude. I have read the definitions and heard this word used frequently. The problem lies in finding a word that truly and completely expresses what I know to be my feelings of gratitude. Conscious gratitude was not part of my life until a few years ago when I turned a corner and began my spiritual journey. Now gratitude is inescapable. My intention is to be grateful for everything in my life. I have developed a habit of gently reminding myself to be grateful in all circumstances and for all experiences. This means being grateful for the good, the bad and the ugly - especially the ugly. Sitting down to a fine meal or receiving a special gift from a friend are occasions when gratitude is natural. I have even mastered the technique of being grateful when things don't go my way or a person or conflict arises in my life. For me, the quickest way to seeing the deeper meaning behind events that are unpleasant is to be thankful for them with the unseen knowledge that life unfolds as it is meant to. My openness to clarity and my trust in the flow of life allows me to see things that I might otherwise choose to avoid or ignore. These often turn out to be behaviours or attitudes which restrict me in my quest for happiness. The difficulty I am having with the word gratitude is that it doesn't seem to be big enough to encompass my feelings. As I take my morning walk I often find myself stopping to stare enraptured at a weed, a patch of grass in a swamp, nondescript stones along the road or even the branch of a cedar tree. Outwardly there appears to be nothing of particular significance with the objects I see but somewhere, deep within my soul, I am making a connection that is beyond my vocabulary to describe. Even now as I write these words I wonder how I can convey the incredible sense of appreciation that I feel in these moments. My emotions seem to erupt with a warm glow throughout my body. There is a feeling of knowing that the universe and my world are one and that the most harmonious of relationships exists in every aspect of both the tangible and the unseen. It almost takes my breath away. These feelings are coming to me more often and lasting longer. They manifest when I hear a hymn on the radio, see a picture of my mom and I or stare appreciatively at the colour of paint on my studio walls. The shift that has taken place has moved me into a realm of feeling immense appreciation for literally all that surrounds me. Even at times when my soul and my human self seem distant from each other I am never far from being aware of the enormity of my blessings. After days of numbing busyness I find that when I take a moment to inhale a deep breath I am instantly in a place of gratitude once again. My sense of gratitude has gradually become almost as frequent as my breaths themselves. Meister Eckhart is quoted as saying "If the only prayer you say in your whole life is "thank you," that would suffice." No matter what is taking place in my life nor who I am facing at the moment, I say "thank you", knowing that I am part of the masterpiece of perfection known as life. For all that, I am truly grateful. Daryl Clarke, September 2000
One More Day Each time we say goodbye there are hand squeezes, smiles and knowing looks. Because each time we say goodbye we know it could be for the last time. We don’t talk about it and haven’t since that sad day in the hospital after he learned that his throat cancer could not be cured and would soon take his life. But there is an awareness with each other that goes beyond any eloquent words or exaggerated gestures. I know, he knows and together we know. I know we only have whatever we have right now and for that I am thankful. It doesn’t seem like much but since it’s all I have I cherish every little opportunity so that when all that’s left is memories they will be real. I no longer take for granted his nods and sighs so that I’ll feel their warmth when all warmth is gone. My father and I share a moment together each day as the clock ticks by and time marches on to the end of his life. The doctors don’t know if he’ll have six months or six hours. They have dashed our hopes and magnified our fears with facts that I wish I never knew. With kind and gentle words they explained that they had failed. They are not to blame, for they fought alongside of us with determination and a valiant effort to beat the odds. They are not to blame for the crippling prognosis that we now face. And face it we do, with courage we thought we had but never had to test. My father has been a strong, independent man and I have reeled from the news that anything could stop his indomitable spirit. Although his lifestyle can probably be blamed for his suffering now, it doesn’t matter anymore. In my childish way, him dying just wasn’t something I really thought would happen. He has shaped his life like a piece of pliable clay – always making the most of whatever he had and providing for his brood to the fullest. He has always stood up to be counted when it meant something to him and still does. He never stood on the sidelines of life as I often admonish myself not to do. And he still doesn’t. Incapacitated as he is, he still exerts his opinions, leadership and direction as frequently as possible. It’s hard for those of us caring for him to slip anything past him. In spite of the prospects, my father is a living example of how to live your life. He only buckles under when there is too much fuss made around him. He resents sympathy and sad faces that have an appearance of a death watch. For him, there is work to be done, messages to be relayed, business to put in order and endless instructions to everyone capable of carrying out a task. As children we read the lists posted on the fridge with instructions for what might otherwise have been a lazy summer afternoon. Today, unable to use his voice, he uses pen and paper to once again keep the every day operation of his life in order. Strong as he is at times, the future is predestined and time does march on. At times I ponder how I will deal with the upcoming events which are both predictable and yet unpredictable as life always is. I contemplate losing this very special person in my life and I wonder why it has taken a serious illness to make me realize what I have. What about the other people I hold dear and whose loss would be devastating – my husband, my son, my mother, my siblings, friends etc? Perhaps a seemingly healthy and happy young person gives me the impression that life is timeless and there’s always tomorrow. Or maybe it’s the unrealistic belief that since something tragic is already in progress I may be immune to a second, or worse, a third sad event. So now I face what, at times, seems to be the harshest test of all. Besides the loss of an important figure in my life, losing my father will be the first break in our family chain. With all of his eight children, my mother and seventeen grandchildren still living we have avoided the inevitable. It makes me stop and think how lucky I have been to have reached my forties with my immediate family still intact. It is clear to me that what I have is what I have – and all I have. I have today and I have it to share with those I love. It may be a sobering fact to some and even to others a pessimistic attitude, but to me it’s a cause for celebration. Another day of sunshine or rain, green grass or fresh snow, babies crying or children laughing, flowers blooming or blossoms fading. Whatever it is, I have it now and this is really all any of us have. I am so grateful to have this day – one more day - with my father, my mother and everyone else I love. I am so fortunate to be able to give and receive, to share and be shared with, to love and be loved … one more day. Daryl Clarke, July 8 1997 At my father’s last check up in February 2000 his doctors cannot find any trace of cancer. He celebrated is 78th birthday on October 6, 1999 and 50th wedding anniversary on November 25, 1999. He lives a busy and only slightly restricted life with my mother in the family home. His eighteenth grandchild turned a year old in May 1999.
From Busyness To Solitude My life has been filled with busyness. I have been making phone calls, sending faxes, writing up emails, meeting with people, getting calls, driving somewhere, making appointments, being a mother, preparing meals, reading the paper, doing laundry, working on my book, being a daughter, filling in my journal, remembering birthdays, writing letters, raking the yard, being a sister, answering the door, buying groceries, cleaning the house, picking up the mail, ordering supplies, etc. etc. The list could go on twenty times as long. All busyness. All necessary things. All filling my day. But today is different. I am "away" at the cottage. There is nothing I have to do. There is no one who will know what I do, except me. I can be five years old again on a warm summer day, lying under a shade tree. I can climb onto a swing and spend hours singing and swaying. I am free. I am really free if only for today. I am free. Suddenly I am lost. I feel guilty that I can do absolutely nothing or, if I want to, I can do something. Or I can just be. There is really nothing I have to do. I feel guilty. I know that my friends and family are all at work struggling to make ends meet. I am here – relaxed, sitting at my computer looking over the lake. The soothing sound of the waves is only interrupted by chirping birds or hungry squirrels. I remember days like this when I was a small child. Nothing to do – really nothing I had to do. I just played until I didn’t want to anymore and I never felt guilty. It was okay to do nothing that fit a productivity scale or garnered an income. It was okay not to be doing anything but to just "be". My thoughts are mixed with sadness that I have lost that ability to just be in the moment and love being there. I wonder when I changed from enjoying "being" to feeling I needed to be doing something or simply felt I had no choice but to be doing something. I feel gratitude that life has brought me here. My path has led me to a place where I can be calm. I am so grateful that I am somewhere that gives me the opportunity to just be. I am also filled with an empowering sense of success. Now that I have brought this experience into my consciousness it can be. I can look at this day and relive it as a child without guilt. Being aware allows me to accept and to learn. That is part of why I am here in this peaceful wilderness. As I gaze at the sparkly water and appreciate my place in the Universe I know that I have come here for a special reason. This is a place without busyness where the sounds I hear are calming and nurturing. This is a place where the silence can be deafening. Others may find it too quiet for their comfort. I am grateful for the quiet. For in this place, I can at last hear what I’ve longed to. I can hear my soul. Daryl Clarke, May 1999
My Mother The shine of her eyes against her beautiful clear skin is breathtaking with the folds of wavy black hair. She is trim and beautiful and she glows with excitement. She seems to be bursting with energy and life. My mother on her wedding day. I look at the picture and wonder what thoughts filled her on this momentous occasion. At twenty, she looks like a pin up girl and her smile is so full of promise I yearn to have known her then. I see the picture of my parents leaving the church and wonder what my mother felt as she stepped into her new life. What dreams did she have? What hopes did she long to fulfill? My mother. A lovely bride who, within thirteen years, would have lost her beloved father, gave birth to eight children and had a husband with two jobs taking him away from home often. Who could have predicted such a transformation of events for this fresh faced young woman? I spent most of my life wanting to be different from my mother. I would cringe when someone said I looked like her, or smiled like her, or talked like her. Since I lived with my mother for my first twenty years, I knew her bad habits, mistakes, fears and perceived inadequacies. When I was compared to her, I felt that the comparison was focused on the negative and this upset me a lot. I dreaded being around anyone who might make this suggestion. I am forty-five years old now. I look through different eyes at my mother. I hold that wedding picture in my mind and try to imagine what I would have done if I'd been her. Would I have had the strength to survive and to even thrive as she did? I'm not so sure. Maybe that's one comparison that others wouldn't have made. I began to look at what she had done to see if I could really find fault. I wanted very much to picture myself in her shoes. It wasn't easy. My mother is a survivor and she found her way. Sometimes you just have to step up to the plate and step up my mother did. The super woman of today has nothing on my mother. Today a mother may have to manage a career, family and household but in today's world there is support available. In my mother's day, especially living in rural Ontario, the days were long, busy and lonely. My mother didn't know about spa days, retreats, day care or massages. The monthly visit from the Avon lady was an event. Her world was filled with baking, meals, laundry, housekeeping and nurturing. But rather than lay back and lose herself in the confusion of a large family my mother found ways to express her creativity through her talents. Every Christmas our school teachers received her delicious fruit cake which took hours of preparation. The little packages were neatly wrapped in foil with a small decoration on top. Presentation was important to my mother. In spring she carefully wrapped the ends of our lilac branches with wet newspaper and foil as we paraded to school. She left sweet treats for the mailman and volunteered at the church. She taught Brownies and Girl Guides for years, even becoming a District Commissioner which meant lots of time and responsibility. She attended the neighbourhood wedding and baby showers, sent baked goods to school sales and even looked after a friend's children after school. Her generosity wasn't limited to the community. She logged more hours on the roads delivering and picking up her children than the local school bus. She carefully handcrafted a Christmas stocking for each of us. Her sewing machine buzzed constantly making expertly tailored suits for herself and stylish outfits for my sisters and I. My home video shows six of us proudly posing on Easter Sunday in her fabric creations. The girls in crisp white blouses, navy skirts and bright pink capes with polka dot lining. Of course, we had brand new white gloves, purses and decorative, head bands. Such elegance! The boys were in suits that were altered just right and their shirts and ties were clean and neat. Her gifts seemed unlimited. There was always a birthday cake and always a Sunday roast dinner. Holidays were filled with magic as the house was transformed with the sights and sounds of the season. My mother! My mother's fun night out was grocery shopping Thursday evenings with her friend. If they could spare a couple of dollars they split a Chinese food dish before heading home. She was a conscientious hostess when my older brother and sister began having dance parties and somewhere in there she entertained large groups of my father's business associates. In our teenage years she even took on a part time job. I know that my life is what I make of it. I either jump in or lay down and die. As I looked back over my mother's life I doubted I had the fortitude to endure what she did. She made a decision to do the best she could and although her regrets are like any other mother's she has nothing to be ashamed of. I raised only one child and had nightmares with him. How did my mother ever survive eight? There are a lot of women in my mother's age bracket who have never looked within themselves to see if their needs are being met. They weren't from a generation that even had the terminology for these feelings. Maybe that's how she did it. I may not admire her selflessness and compliance but I can't help but admire her strength and endurance. So, as the date drew near for my parents' anniversary party I began to wonder if the old friends and relatives would pass along those long ago sentiments. I wondered how many people would shake their heads and say I looked just like her. I also wondered if anyone would say that I had her laugh or her mischievous grin. In November 1999, the beautiful young bride glowed in a stunning long dress ensemble at her fiftieth wedding anniversary. She was as vibrant as she had ever been and she basked in the glow of her children, her eighteen grandchildren and many friends. One week after Mother's Day she will celebrate her seventieth birthday. I can hardly believe it. Time may be marching on but when I look at my mother I still see and feel all the enthusiasm and vitality that were reflected in that long ago picture. My mother is a matriarch of global proportions. There could never be another woman like her … but I wouldn't mind the comparison if anyone happens to notice. Daryl Clarke, February 2000
THE SPIRITUAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MILLENNIUM There is something happening that is beyond my realm of definition. It isn't beyond my belief, it just defies me to create words to describe it. I believe that a shift is taking place on the planet. I rarely watch any television newscasts, read newspapers or listen to the radio anymore. I find the information that comes at me is sometimes profoundly negative and most often touches me deeply with the anxiety it creates throughout the universe. But try as I do, I am not unaffected by the intensity of world events. My view is that the world is indeed in a crisis type of situation. It's not the doomsday, "the world is coming to an end", type of crisis but more of a human emotional/spiritual crisis. How long can we possibly go on at the pace we have been keeping. North America has set a breakneck rhythm that is barely tolerably. People are in chaos. They are running out of places of refuge to rekindle their souls. They are exhausted from the bombardment of the millennium hype and what it could bring into their lives. The message I keep hearing is fear. The fear is so rampant that acts of unspeakable terror are occurring everywhere. Tragedies are devouring our minds as we try to realize the incredible toll taken for violence and natural disasters. Fear - it can paralyze us into immobility or it can trigger us into destructive reactions. I know it is doing both. I've heard many people talk about the impact that the year 2000 will have for those who believe in spirituality. That being, those who believe that we are all connected to a powerful source of energy that is often unseen. This energy is sometimes called God, The Light, The Universe, All That Is or Higher Power. I use some of these terms myself. I want to share what I feel is happening. It's important that I clarify that my feelings come from a knowing. For me, a knowing is when a message comes into my consciousness and it’s clarity touches me at the depth of my soul. It's almost as if I have always "known" this thought and it has now surfaced into my consciousness. In spite of what I hear from others I continually hear a message from within. It's a message of love and hope that infuses me and is not created from a basis of longing or fear. The word love has been used so much it has often been overlooked as a cliché. As part of the shift, I believe the word love is now being elevated to a place of purpose, a reason for living, a focal point to set our internal compasses on. Just think about it. If every thought, word, action were motivated by love, coming from a point of love, what would be different in our world? What would be different in your world? Globally, I feel that people have reached a spiritual turning point. In the past, acknowledgement of a strong spiritual base has had two opposing stands. One, it has not been fashionable to appear vulnerable to an unseen power especially in a world where we idolize those with power. Two, the alternative, it has been very trendy to be on the "spiritual bandwagon" and joining forces with yet another movement that many fear because of it's focus on truth. Neither of these behaviours will serve any purpose in the next millennium. I feel that people are starting to recognize that it's time to start the journey or, for those already begun, to continue the journey into their relationship with the universal power. It's a journey that is done quietly and with reverence to oneself. It is the journey to personal awareness and truth. It is the search, in essence, for who we are. Although we can share some of the experiences with others we must ultimately do it alone. We cannot risk being swept away by someone else's truth - it must be our own. It is our journey, our path. We need to find our own singular connection and see how it translates into our lives. We need to understand once and for all why we are here and how we can serve humanity. It can only be done individually. And that’s okay, for we are never alone – we always have the love and support of the ultimate energy source. We also know how to love and support each other without interference. We do know that we can safely set boundaries and respect those of others. I know that my own journey has been long and at first lonely. I had no idea that several years later as I write this, loneliness is not even a consideration in my life. I have a spiritual connection that is always available to me whether I am consciously addressing it or not. That is where a spiritual journey has taken me and now I feel around me the shift in others as they start to ask questions and share with each other in a way that hasn't been possible in the past. The New Millennium is opening doors for us. The excitement is genuine because the madness is coming to an end and peace is on the doorstep. There won't be big bangs or cosmic fireworks on New Years Eve. The changes will occur over time as people stop the internal chaos and look to the place that has craved for attention all of their lives. They will look for the answers in the pure and undeniable home of truth. They will look within. Daryl Clarke, November 1999 |
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