Worth It

  • March 26, 2026 10:11 pm

Dearest Readers,

I hope you are continuing to find ways to make meaning in these fraught times. There is so much goodness to balance out the madness, it just needs to be sought!

The other day, I was presented with an opportunity to reflect on the concept of “worth” when I attended a talk by Hannah Moscovitch, a super-successful Canadian playwright and a top writer for television.

Hannah was honest and forthright about the highs and lows of writing for TV and made light of the “crazy difference in pay scale” between theatre and television. She joked, “When you’re a playwright, you’re like, ‘Thank you for this forty-five dollars’, and after writing for television for a while you’re like, ‘Wow, I can buy a ski chalet.’” Her candour was refreshing.

Naturally, Hannah’s success made me envious. For most of my young life, I was told I was going to be famous and it’s been an ongoing process to contend with the fact that I’m not.

After Hannah gave her talk, the part of me that longed for starry success needed some attention. I told my little fame-seeker that it was okay to want what Hannah had. It was okay to want to be the darling of critics, to have famous actors saying my words on the New York stage, to be an in-demand show-runner in the entertainment biz. It was okay to want all of that.

But did I really want it? Would I trade any of those things for the life I have now? What kind of “worth” does my life have?

Two things came to me. The first was the response of a dying man when I sang to him as he slipped away. “Thank you,” he said, “Thank you, thank you.” I will never forget, for as long as I live, the broken tenderness in his voice as he repeated his gratitude.

The second was the phone call I received from the same man’s brother, letting me know he had died. The brother was a life-long trucker: tough exterior, soft heart. As he broke the news, his voice quavered. He was torn apart but stoically holding it together. He thanked me for being his brother’s friend. It had meant something to them both.

How do we measure worth? I can’t buy a ski chalet but these two experiences make me feel like I’ve hit the jackpot.

May you discover and uncover what has worth in your life.

Celia

Impeccable Timing

  • February 28, 2026 6:54 pm

Dearest Readers,

It feels strange to be sending you this letter after reading today’s terrifying headlines. I wrote the post a few days ago, before the attacks on Iran. Hopefully, what I’m writing about still has meaning despite the (ongoing) horrific events unfolding before us.

Last month, I wrote about donkeys and this month I’m going to write about owls.

A couple of weeks ago, a woman called me to inquire about spiritual direction. During our conversation, she told me her spirituality was deeply connected to nature. After she had shared a bit about what that meant for her, I told her that my spirituality, too, was connected to nature. The moment those words left my mouth, an owl flew across the yard.

Let me repeat that. At the precise moment I spoke the words, “My spirituality is connected to nature”, a large, grey owl, never before seen on our property, swooped directly across my line of vision.

“Oh my god!” I said (for what else does one say?). The vision of this majestic bird had filled me with wonder and awe.

I told the woman what had happened and we laughed at the seeming coincidence. Then the owl flew back the other way, showing me its expansive, patterned wings and soft, flat face. More awe and wonder.

Animal encounters like this one feel like spiritual events. Cosmic communion. They tell me there is something extraordinary happening behind the scenes. I like to call this Impeccable Timing.

Impeccable Timing is not really explainable. It happens when things converge in a meaningful or mystical way. Not everything that happens is Impeccable Timing—or maybe it is—but a man I met who was dive-bombed by an owl and had his scalp ripped open by the bird’s talons would probably say Not Impeccable Timing.

For me, that owl flying past my window, in that moment, as if my very words had breathed it into being, was Impeccable Timing. And IT has been keeping me going.

May we all continue to be awed by the wonder that can happen in our world.

With love and IT blessings,

Celia

Donkeys Help

  • January 20, 2026 4:08 pm

Dearest Readers,

I hope you are finding ways to take care of yourselves, tend to your needs and have fun in these fraught and uncertain times. When life is so precarious it feels more important than ever to do these simple things.

As an example, I recently paid a visit with some friends to the Primrose Donkey Sanctuary. I have always loved donkeys. When I was a child, I had a picture book called “Donkey, Donkey” about a donkey who doesn’t like his ears. I didn’t like mine either so I understood him.

In 2013, when I was on a month-long retreat in Ireland, I made friends with a donkey who lived in a field along my walking route. Once we established a connection, he would come to the fence to say hello and get a rub whenever I passed by.

During our visit at the Primrose Donkey Sanctuary, a donkey named Zak walked all the way around the other donkeys to come and stand by me. I reached my hand over the fence to give him a good rub but he was too far away and would not come any closer. He seemed very sad!

A Primrose volunteer wandered over and said Zak had been pretty depressed lately because his partner had just died. I learned donkeys tend to pair bond and can show obvious signs of mourning. Zak evidently wanted our company, because he stayed with us even while maintaining his distance.

I’ve been thinking about Zak all week. Some farms acquire donkeys because they calm the other animals. Despite his grief, he gave me that sense of calm. The way he stood by us, stock still, quietly breathing in the cold winter air, seemingly listening to our conversation, giving us his full presence.

While the circus of global politics screams on, climate catastrophes rage, and staggering injustices occur around our planet, it has brought me strange comfort to think of Zak, a very present donkey living on a farm, missing his partner.

From his world to my world to yours, and all the worlds in-between …

Celia

PS ~ My mother wrote a book called “Dandelions Help” so thanks, Mum, for inspiring this month’s title.

Asking for Help

  • December 20, 2025 4:05 pm

Dearest Readers,

Why is it so hard to ask for help?

When I was in high school, I learned how not asking for help can get you in trouble. I was directing a play in our little black box theatre and the previous group had left a cumbersome fireplace prop on the stage. Did I go and find someone to help me move it? Nope. I dragged the heavy object into the wings, knocking chunks of plaster off its corners and leaving scrape marks on the stage.

That afternoon, our teacher admonished the person ‘whodunit’ and dared her to come clean. I stayed silent but my conscience got the better of me and I confessed after class. The teacher praised me for telling the truth but then posed a perplexing question: Why didn’t you just ask for help?

Hm. That’s a tough one.

I guess nobody taught me how. I come from a family of DIYers and I’m not talking about renos. Lift it yourself. Carry it yourself. Figure it out by yourself. Manage it by yourself. Self-sufficiency is prized above all, to our detriment. Most of us still struggle to ask for help when we need it.

To ask for help is to admit weakness and weakness equals death. Too much of a stretch? I don’t think so.

Ironically, admitting I can’t do something actually brings me strength. One of life’s paradoxes. Thank goodness I’ve learned!

Just yesterday, I needed some help. My mental health was in the toilet and my best thinking told me to isolate and numb-out. Instead, I reached out. Twice.

Sent a voice message to a friend.

“Help. Not doing well.”

Just sharing that gave me the courage to call my boyfriend.

“I need life support.”

Vulnerable. Ugh. But he was able to love me into a better place. He couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t told on myself.

It sounds simplistic but if you need help, try asking for it. It makes a difference.

May Light from Every Possible Source brighten your darkness this holiday season.

Celia

Grr-attitude

  • November 29, 2025 4:00 pm

Dearest Readers,

Last week was “American Thanksgiving” (as we call it here in Canada) and there was a lot of online content about gratitude. One post suggested that our brains are actually hardwired to focus on problems rather than solutions. What a relief! I thought it was just me.

Because I tend to look for what is wrong instead of what’s right, gratitude is something I need to practice. And I do. In order to change my negative outlook, I will often say the words “Thank you” when my brain is thinking, “F-you.”

Grumbling out loud is also something I like to do when I’m alone. “Grr,” when the snow is blowing back in my face after I’ve just it brushed off the car. “Grr,” when I’m trying to upload a photo and the file is too big. “Grr,” when I’m being asked for a two-step verification for the fourth time.

I am aware of my privilege as I write this. Some people don’t have cars, computers and bank accounts. My problems are definitely first class. Gratitude should be easy.

But “shoulding” on myself doesn’t help. What helps is understanding that “the human brain wraps around fear and problems like Velcro”. Being human is just plain hard and looking for the good takes guts and grit.

Going forward, I’ve decided to try a new practice. When I hear myself saying, “Grr,” I’m going to extend the word and say, “Grr-attitude.”

I’ll let you know how it goes.

On the path with you,

Celia

We are Complex Creatures

  • November 22, 2025 9:47 am

Dearest Readers,

I hope this letter finds you balancing the challenging times with the beauty of the moment. We’ve just had Thanksgiving here in Canada and despite the wackiness of the world these days, I’m feeling thankful to be a part of it.

Because of some big world news this week, I have been thinking a lot about human complexity and how we are not one thing.

For example:

An abusive husband can be tender with his children.

A skinny woman can think she is fat.

A peace activist can be cruel to his partner.

A feminist can pose nude for a men’s magazine.

A prevaricating authoritarian figure can negotiate a cease-fire.

We are not one thing!

Human behaviour is not black or white and people are contradictory and complicated. This is difficult to accept. It would be so much easier if we were all good or all bad, wouldn’t it?

I had a birthday recently and with it came a steady stream of compliments. “You are so compassionate, so kind and so generous!”

Yes, I can be those things. But I can also be mean-spirited, judgemental and arrogant. If the Apple Tech Support Agent and the Amazon Sales Rep had posted on my timeline you would have seen a more realistic picture of who I am.

We are not one thing.

Whenever I am struggling with jealousy, superiority or selfishness (some of my finest qualities), a friend of mine will say, “Welcome to the human race, Celia.”

A prevaricating authoritarian can negotiate a cease-fire. Welcome to the human race.

With love and humble pie,

Celia

Feel It

  • October 29, 2025 12:58 pm

Dearest Readers,

How are you doing? I hope you’re going gently and experiencing some softness in these hard times.

You might be surprised to see another letter from me so soon. I’ve been averaging about two a year but I met an old friend in July who encouraged me to post more often. “Once a month!” he cheered as we said good-bye. (He’s a professional coach.)

So here I am again, a month later.

Lately, I’ve been listening to the audiobook version of “1984” by George Orwell (read by the brilliant actor Peter Capaldi) and finding its themes chillingly similar to what’s happening in our world today.

In 1948, Orwell imagined a future where the falsification of reality and acceptance of official lies were the cultural norm. Nearly eighty years later, here we are.

And yet …

“The Party had not been able to kill their human feelings. The Party had not been able to kill their humanity.”

These lines from the book strike deep. Somehow, in this age of fake news and corrupt leadership, we must continue to affirm our humanity through the simple act of feeling.

Feeling is difficult. Numbing out is much easier. We only have to stare at a screen. Or reach into our pockets for the phone. To identify a feeling I must reach into my Self.

I have a list of feelings at hand because I find it so challenging to name exactly what it is I’m feeling.

These days …

I feel horrified.

I feel angry.

I feel despair.

I feel powerless.

Naming the feeling seems to loosen the grip of anxiety. By saying, “I feel overwhelmed,” the stuck energy can move. “I feel numb,” can thaw the freeze state.

I recently witnessed a friend grieving openly in a support group. She kept apologizing for her tears, embarrassed that she was being such a “hot mess” in public.

But all of us in the group were then moved to share our own experience of grief. Her authenticity and vulnerablility strengthened and inspired us. We were uplifted.

When we share what’s really going on (in a safe space), we affirm our humanity.

And when we affirm our humanity, we participate in something greater than politics and war. We resist the forces of dehumanization.

Our feelings remind us: we are alive.

With you on the journey,

Celia

Fixing a Hole

  • September 4, 2025 11:34 am

Dearest Readers,

Summer has just past its peak in this little corner of the world. It has been much too dry of late but we have been spared the wildfires (so far). The forest outside my window is a palette of greens. Birds twit. Bees buzz. Squirrels and chipmunks scamper. It’s idyllic.

Then I read the news headlines and I feel heartbroken and helpless. Anger and sadness ebb and flow. I listen for the voices who are calling for justice and peace. I look for the activists who persevere. I watch Nature rebuild. We go on.

Recently, in a contemplative moment, a memory returned to me: when I was three or four, I climbed down into a hole in our backyard that had been dug for a fence post. The hole had been covered over with a board and we’d been told not to go near it but what did I do? I pulled the board away and shimmied down into the hole, wedging myself in so tightly that the fire department had to come and dig me out.

The event was traumatic for my parents. For me, it was the opposite. I remember only being in the hole with my face gently pressing on the wall of cold, damp clay, typical of Yukon soil. There was no fear. I felt happy and safe.

What possessed me to defy the parental no-no and subject myself to an emergency rescue? Did I want to see what would happen? Was I trying to get away from a stressful home life? Did I wish to disappear from the world? All of the above?

I’m curious about that little girl who found solace in being trapped in the earth, breathing in the mineralic smell of the clay. When the memory resurfaced, I wondered if she might be trying to tell me something today.

Dig in.

Go deep.

Breathe with the Earth.

With the world such as it is, these simple directives feel crucial. In the face of despair, I commit to maintaining the spiritual practices and soul work that bring the change I want to see in the world.

Does your younger self have wisdom for you, too?

On the path,

Celia

Stay the Course

  • March 27, 2025 4:00 pm

Dearest Readers,

As I write this letter, the sun is shining brightly on the snow in the park across the street and a big elm is casting deep blue shadows on the shimmering white. The sky is a much paler blue, a powder blue, like a young man’s prom tux in the disco era. It’s a gorgeous March day.

With the world the way it is right now, turning my focus to steadfast things like sun, snow, wind and skies, is a way to stay grounded. The sun shines faithfully, the snow falls predictably, the wind blows steadily, the sky is ever-present. Nature stays the course.

These days, “staying the course” is a good practice. It’s straightforward, constructive and do-able. Especially when the fear kicks in. “Yikes! Panic! Chaos! Uncertainty! War! Terror! Dictators taking over the world!”

Stay the course. Stay. The. Course.

A quick search tells me the phrase is likely nautical in origin, a captain’s instruction to the helmsman in difficult conditions. This makes sense. “Stay the course, Sailor!” is much easier to say than, “Maintain a consistent, unaltering path while navigating these difficult conditions, Sailor!”

Current conditions are difficult and the desire to alter the present-day path is huge. How to find the ground when the rug has been pulled out from underfoot?

Stay the course.

Suit up. Show up. Do your best. Let go of the rest.

In 2015, when I was living in England and providing spiritual care for the residents in a nursing home, I was amazed by how often “The War” would come up during conversations. These men and women had all lived through WWII, and more than seven decades later its impact was still being felt, remembered, and talked about.

What struck me most was how these now-elderly people had kept going during the most harrowing of times. They described getting on with their daily lives while being bombed, while their loved ones disappeared, while the war dragged on. The cooking had to be done, someone had to go to work. Kids went to school. Young people went to the cinema. Dancing happened every night! They stayed the course.

This is what I think about when it all seems utterly hopeless. Do your daily life. Brush your teeth. Go to work. Do the things that need doing. And try to have some fun!

Stay the course. It’s a good practice.

With love and blessings as you consistently and unalteringly navigate the challenges in your own lives,

Celia

FUDJ It!

  • November 9, 2024 3:09 pm

Dearest Readers,

How are you doing? Hard times they come again. I hope you are finding moments of connection to remind you of Life’s beauty, profundity and depth.

In hard times, acronyms help. There’s QTIP (Quit Taking Things Personally), which is useful when I am feeling hurt by someone else. And there’s PAUSE (Postpone Action Until Serenity Emerges) for the times when I want to fix a difficult situation or force a solution. You see How Acronyms Work?HAW!

I recently came up with my own acronym when I had the opportunity to do a work-presentation on self-care: FUDJ (to be employed when you want to say the other F-word.)

Here’s the breakdown:

F is for Faith and Fun.

Everyone has faith in something. For some, it’s God or a Higher Power. For others, it’s the arrival of Spring or a dear friend who is always there. How could you allow your own unique faith to energize you? Or to console or comfort you?

And … are you having fun yet? If not, why not? What did you find fun as a kid? What if you could do more of that? Try bringing more fun into your life.

U is for Understand.

How could “understanding” soften the edges? Understanding toward ourselves: I’m doing the best I can with what I have at any given time. Toward others: they are, too. How about Understanding the Universe? (That’s a double U.) Try zooming out and looking at the Big Picture to understand that we are here for only a little time and that we don’t know everything.

D is for Decide.

I don’t have a lot of power to change the world but I do have the power to change my perception, my thinking, and my reactions. If things are affecting me negatively, I can decide to see things differently. I can look through a lens of gratefulness, or compassion or acceptance. That is power I do have.

J is for Judgment and Joy.

I’ve learned that when I am judging others I’m often just trying to feel safe. It is a way to feel like I have control. And when I am in judgment I’m obviously not in Joy. So where do you find joy? That’s a tough one for me. Joy has been elusive. But it is possible to cultivate it. So I try to do that. And I take care of the part of me that doesn’t feel safe. Try moving from judgment to joy, when/if possible.

If you are struggling in these hard times and find yourself saying FUC* it, try saying FUDJ it instead. And if it makes you think of real fudge, good. Let sweetness prevail.

From the trenches,

Celia