So am I feeling down and grumpy because my friend went home? Or is it because it's someone's funeral today? Or because the dogs are on my nerves? Or because another friend is sick with Covid? At least the sun came out now for a bit. And my two dogs are happy in the woods here.  The extra dog dies not know how to walk politely in lead and I am not sure about her recall so she had to stay behind. That also makes me a bit cross. She backed out of her harness at my place and ran off to the neighbours place too. Heart attack time but she did return. But it felt so out of control. Ack! I think I do not want to dogsit rambunctious dogs anymore. I end up aggravated all the time. Why can't they all be like Sadie and Neimar and Norah?

     The Guest House      " T his being human is a guest house.       Every morning a new arrival.           A joy, a depression, a meanness,      some momentary awareness comes      as an unexpected visitor.           Welcome and entertain them all!      Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,      who violently sweep your house      empty of its furniture,      still, treat each guest honorably.      He may be clearing you out      for some new delight.           The dark thought, the shame, the malice,      meet them at the door laughing,      and invite them in. ​          Be grateful for whoever comes,      because each has been sent      as ...

. <> I remember thinking and feeling, when I was young, that everything was still to happen. I’d think of a new place and my heart would race thinking of all the new friends I’d meet. (new as-yet-unmet friends) New places to explore. I didn’t know “about” passion then but I sure lived it. Hitch-hiked somewhere, metro the coolest people in the coolest place so I stayed and became one of them! I built a boat, a sailboat - actually - just because that was what was going on! I bought some land, got married, built a kennel, showed dogs, went to university, took acting and psychology, bought a house, became a widow, fell in love and out of love (well maybe never really OUT of love but it ended); discovered Life Skills, stage management, the world of theatre, acting, singing, wore designer clothes, bought original art. Scared when H3 died and scared when I thought I might die.  I drove a purple car, met my baby I had given up at 17, became a grandma, moved to an island, met my mot...

 <>  * Waking up was a bit difficult for her that morning. The show the previous evening had gone relatively well, accompanied by the usual rush of adrenaline and relief afterwards, which as usual, made it difficult for her to go to sleep. It was nearly 2 before her head hit the pillow, yet her eyes still opened at 830. “Oh, well,” she thought, “maybe I should get up now and nap later. My friend K is leaving this morning.” K was her friend of nearly 15 years. They had met doing a musical together and fell in love with each other. K was tall, red-headed, musical, bright and witty - so easy to love. She was also committed to her longtime male partner, so nothing romantic would occur between them. Still they shared an intense admiration for one another and just as much easy enjoyment. Looking out onto the morning, she saw the ocean had a bit of wind in her. “Perfect for dinghy sailing,” she thought. The day was grey but no rain. :She got up to let the dog, Sadie, out of her...

 <> She belonged to no-one when she was born.  She came out of a woman, of course, but was never held by her, or cooed to by her, or nursed by her. It is uncertain whether the woman even actually ever looked at her.  She was weighed and measured and placed into a bassinet, next to the other babies who had mothers - real human mothers - and names. She remained nameless for quite a while. At first they called her by her father's last name. On her chart it said, "Baby McGee." The father named McGee had not been informed of her arrival but still they used his name. And the woman who birthed her? Nothing of that woman remained with her - at first. But then, a few days after her birth, the woman gave her two names - Lorraine Renee. The hospital insisted upon using the man's name as her last name however. Renee Lorraine McGee. She still belonged to no one, but now she had a name. It was a start. It is unclear how long she remained at the hospital, or where she went u...

> What do I want? Do I want? I am feeling empty of any true wanting, and “normal” in-quotes wanting. There is an underlying, surrounding aura of dis-ease and rocky uneven ground and my eyes cannot see the horizon, the end point, or even the destination. I am not sure where we are all headed so... I garden. I plant and I weed and I cu and I trim, and I smell the roses, admire the growing artichokes and squashes, add mulch, munch on pea pods and a strawberry, sit in the sun and drink a cool drink. Other times I play music - on the piano, on the cello, even now and then he ukulele. Or I put on happy music to dance to while I cook. Sometimes I want certain things to eat - a small wanting, Or I want to talk to a friend - so I call them. But these are small wantings, not deep soulful wantings. When other longings arise, I hold up my hand and say STOP! Don’t go down that thought process. No point.  There will be no travelling, no visiting family, no music festivals, no theatre and ther...

WHAT IS SAFE? 2020 <> Safe - what is safe? And what is my relationship to the concept of safety? It’s kind of a trigger word for me since Doc was often stopping our fun due to safety concerns Trampoline? No, too unsafe. Swimming pool? Too unsafe. Fast boat motor? Safety again. It was his easy way out. I wanted to be brave and do things and not quiver with fear over safety. I thought Doc was a bit chicken, and overly controlling. I didn’t like any of it! Fast forward 40-50 years and what is safety to me now? Well, it has different connotations and it’s not just about me now. I drive carefully for me, sure, but also so I don’t injure anyone else. Same with the current question of “to mask or not to make - that is the question”. If I wear a mask in a store, I hope it will stop me from inadvertently infecting someone else. And as a bonus, others may also FEEL safer around me. It’s safety as a community minded concept. Other parts to safety are also corporal - having ...

 <> I remember the long walk to school in elementary school, walking past all the big old houses on the one side on 18th Avenue with such tall steps to the front for - and thinking how hard it must be to bring the groceries up all those stairs. I remember liking that walk to school except for the part going past the public school where the kids would call us names and we could call back, not really knowing what it meant or why we said it but doing it anyways. I remember Sister telling us we weren’t to be friends with Protestants and how I rationalized that since Maureen went to Catholic school and her mother was Catholic - that even though her dad was a Protestant it didn’t really count. I remember coming home one day and my dad was home already, and my mom, too and they were very somber and they told us, “Cottontail is dead.” The neighbor in the big fancy house who had the hunting dogs - those dogs had come in the yard and killed and eaten him. I remember there were little b...

 2017 I WISH SOMEONE WOULD ASK ME: I don’t know. I don’t seem to have an answer to this question. Or rather, to have a question. When I am alone, I often feel very alone - as in alone in the world. Maybe then I would like someone to ask me to be their friend. I think I can be a very good friend - willing and able to listen, knowing how to have fun and laugh, interested in many things in the world. I would also like someone to ask me “What else?”  What else is going on with you, meaning me? What’s underneath all that you’re saying or not saying?  What makes you tick?  How do you see the world?  What gets you excited or awestruck or lifted up for despairing?  Who'd do you love?  What do you love? Is there something I wishes people would see in me?  My depth, perhaps. I am often smiling, making jokes, keeping it light. I don’t want be a drag and bring you down if I am feeling a heaviness, some sorrow or anger. And yet, I am fine if you express those ...

Hugs Written in 2017 I discovered that I knew at a very young age that Barb did not like me or love me. That scene of her freezing when I tried to hug her, and hugging the bunny instead has played in my mind my whole life. No wonder I vacuumed the house for no reason and now wonder I was good in school. I was just trying to get her love or approval.= And that going away party in 8th grade? Anne Fleck arranged that - not Barb. Anne. Barb just got me there on the day. Why did it take me so long to let go?  Imagine if I had stayed away from 1970 onward? Maybe even kept my baby? Maybe stayed with Mike? Or just walked away and got an abortion? Or maybe just left at 14 when I started running away. It seemed Doc wanted me home but didn’t his to talk to me. If…If….If only….Next life will I make different choices? I got myself a foster home at 17 so I could’ve done so at 14. Imagine a quiet home life in high school, doing drama and choir and the yearbook.I might’ve even made fri...

DOES BLOOD TELL? I knew I was really a McGee. I kept the secret from the grownups and they didn’t speak of it either. But they knew.  Of course they knew. They had shown me the papers in which my REAL name was written. I thought about my real parents a lot. My adoptive parents would’ve been surprised, I think, if they knew how often I thought about them. They were so proud of how they had told me and my 3 siblings – about being adopted.  How we were special cuz we were chosen unlike other parents who stuck with whatever they got. They had this book that explained it all. How when grownups want a baby they to the adoption place where there are rows and rows of babies in bassinets. And they look at each baby in turn until they see the one that’s just right. Kind of like Goldilocks with the porridge being a baby, right? Then they take the baby to the cashier to buy it and they take it home. They take it home and come up with a name and BAM instant family.  Nice story. EACH O...

Then to now... THEN - I knew I enjoyed talking and joking with people and how it always gave me an energy boost. NOW - I have to get my energy boosts from my garden and my dog. But boy, do I miss those casual interactions! THEN - There were some things I really wanted to stop doing, but hadn’t quite worked out how I would or could withdraw from them. NOW - Some of it just stopped, not by me but by the Covid nightmare. Others are finally coming to a close. Yehaw! My load is lightening! THEN - Funny how my mind only went as far back as just before the Covid lockdown.  It’s like my memory has shortened somehow. Power being, this nasty virus. NOW - I am struggling to tap into creativity, into hedonism, into healthy self-care. Now I work hard outside and work hard finalizing Hospice business. In fact, I really enjoy doing hard physical tasks. Hospice? Meh. But that ends soon. But pursuit of pure pleasure is elusive now, I am on some sort of pause just like the rest of the world. I need ...

 Written April 2020 Kindness and sorrow. Are they linked somehow?  As friends, or even closer - as sisters? It is something to ponder and sit with and move around to see from different angles. I have known deep sorrow, and it did indeed carve a large, gaping hole inside. At first the hole felt cold empty, lonely lost Then something new crept in quietly, unannounced, thru a side door I didn’t know was there. One day, I smiled and I saw myself smiling and was mildly alarmed. Am I allowed  to smile? Am I dismissing my pain? Doesn’t it have any meaning? So many questions - yet this new lighter feeling took its own space in the large gaping hole and shone a light in that corner A small light - a light of hope, and possibility. A slight easing of the coldness.  A nod to change. And how did that smile creep in? Was it the kind look of a friend? Or the wag of a friendly tail? Or maybe just a small glance of beauty, which is the kindness our earth offers, In these uncertain t...

 I am Moving to Salt Spring    2013 Once, a few years ago, I joined 6 other women on a sailboat and we sailed around the Gulf Islands together for a week. We did yoga in the morning on deck and cooked together and took turns at the steering wheel and as crew members manning the sails. We hiked on little island gems and soaked in the hot tub at Poet’s Cove. One hot Saturday July morning we sailed into Ganges Harbour on Salt Spring Island and took the dinghy to shore. As we walked up the dock, I heard a play being enacted. I stood and watched, fascinated, as a cross-gendered version of Cyrano de Bergerac was played out by a group of teenagers. It was fabulous and I could hardly tear myself away.  It was outside under the park’s gazebo with folks sitting on blankets on the low-rise hills around it.  Behind the play was a bustling market of white-canopies lined up in rows in an L-shape around the entire park. We were drawn in and soon found cheeses, bread, wine, fru...

 October. 2019 Dear See See Boo, I am sorry I was not there for you when you needed me most. I am sorry I let your mother take the lead and throw you out of the family when you found love in your teens. I can explain that I was afraid of how I would be seen and judged and found to be a not-very-good parent. I was afraid my patients would abandon me because they would see me as unfit.  I was afraid your genetics determined all that happened.  I could not sway any of your actions I did love you.  I love you still. You are my See See Boo and I was proud of you playing Bach on the piano. I was proud of your scholarship. The like people you chose as friends.  I saw you as strong and smart and beautiful. I was a little afraid of your love for M. It was so intense, stronger than anything I had ever known. But M seemed to love you so much, and you were so happy. You seemed like a good match. But when you became pregnant it was too much for me. I never looked at it from ...

***Sunday, Dec . 13, 2020 *** My friend cannot find suitable housing. Actually, she cannot find any housing at all. Normally, this might not be the worst thing - one could move off island or stay in a motel temporarily. Something. But in her situation - she is extremely ill with a long term chronic disease, is bedbound, has severe allergies and chemical sensitivities, cannot read or use the computer due to extreme light sensitivity, her hands are virtually useless due to inflammation of the joints and pain so she cannot write either. It goes without saying she cannot drive anywhere since she can only sit up for brief periods of time. She has applied for Medical Assistance in Dying, even though she was hoping to get healthier thru some alternative medical support. (Western medicine has only helped minimally.) Now it looks as though dying will be her only answer. Nowhere to live vs. death? What kind of a choice is that?

 MY FANTASY CHILDHOOD - BLUES RIFF (12 bar blues) Born on a sailboat Heading towards Tahiti Landed on first breath Named Lisa of the Sea Mama was a goddess Beautiful, talented and smart Papa was a musician with the world’s biggest heart Oh I’m a very happy baby Loved by all I see Yes I’m a very happy baby Travelling the world by sea We traveled thru the South Seas Around Kiwi-land and Oz Made friends a-plenty And then we carried on We made music every morning We danced all thru the night I was a happy healthy girl child And I felt  so right I had so many interests I flitted from flower to flower With the love that my folks offered I truly felt empowered Now I’m a happy healthy woman All the world is open to me Yes I’m a happy well-loved woman Excited by all i see See Sea See Yeah

WHAT IS ADOPTION? Written by Lisa Dahling   2017 What is adoption?  Adoption is ripping a baby away from their mother and their family and their place in the world.  Expecting that baby to conform to the rules and expectations of unrelated people.  Pretending to be related, hiding the truth, wondering if they could be sent back if they get out of line.  Never safe. Never secure. Enough! Adoption and me have never been on friendly terms.
 Enough of saying, “But they must've really wanted you since they went to all the trouble to get you,” Adoption in Calif, then moving to Seattle so people could think she gave birth down there. They told us we were adopted.  Did they tell their friends? The priest? not sure. This is hard for me today. It is not okay that I was hit as a child and belittled. It is not okay that Michael and Kim were hurt either.
 At least Mark was spared.

  MY SECRET GRIEF Written by Lisa Dahling  2017 My secret grief is that I did not raise my daughter. I often wish I had fought for that, for the right to keep her and raise her as my own, instead of allowing my parents to bully me into relinquishing her. I was 17. I do see now that my desire to remain in the family and the fear of losing my place was greater than my desire to have and keep my baby, I do not believe I ever allowed myself to think about keeping her. I believed I would be all alone. They said I would be kicked out of the family, given no money and I would be stripped of my last name and told I could not live anywhere near them. Of course, intellectually it’s all nonsense. They couldn’t take away my last name, could they? Or determine where I lived?

 The dogs held a meeting. They decided some things. 1 If you walk on our road, prepare to be barked at. 2 The barking is to tell you it’s our road. No threat is involved or implied. 3 My people are the best, kindest, funnest, cuddliest people there are. This was a                 unanimous decision! 4 Always nap whenever possible 5 I LOVE our yard. -----The Dogs The cats heard of this meeting and tried to hold one of their own. However, a neutral ground could not be found, so each cat stayed in his/her own territory and grumbled about the other cats’ stupidity Nothing was decided.

Written Feb. 25, 2022  * I love dreaming - and I love remembering them. Well, actually, it’s because I remember them that makes me think I love dreaming. = Am I going in a circle now?  Anyhow...The dream world often seems more interesting to me than being awake (Not woke! That’s something else entirely.) I seem to just move about there with no perceived agenda. I’ve never had to pay a bill or see a doctor or fix something broken in my dreams. I am often with other people.  I remember a particularly vivid dream during the height of Covid lockdowns where I went to a big party where all my friends were, many I hadn’t seen in quite a while. We were a wee bit stressed before entering about getting masks on, but once inside that all faded away. I hugged people - and there was so much laughter. And my friend Cindy and I were asked to perform - to sing. Just the thought of being onstage again excited me, and being in such a huge friendly crowd. Definitely a Covid dream - so to sp...

 *Covid-19 is around the world and down the street It threatens every single human being alive and I am reeling from the grief of it and the wonder of “now what?”. I ask when will it end and get no answer.  How will our world be changed once it has finished its assault? Is there hope for us? Today I woke with a pain in my belly and a feeling of edgy crankiness.  When the frosting I was making for a birthday cake failed to be frosting and instead was a type of chocolate soup, I began to cry. Then I banged my forehead on tan open cupboard door and cried harder.  It all just  seemed absurd and pointless.  And what  about those cupboard doors who, when opened, were precisely  at the height of my forehead?   Who designed this shit anyway? And that recipe? So very annoying. And it was raining. The rain seemed appropriate as it reflected my inner life this morning - soggy and sad. Unlike these two dogs, who are soggy but very, very happy.

Published in the Driftwood Newspaper in the  SALT SPRING ISLAND COVID CHRONICLES *I spoke to strangers yesterday while out shopping.  I missed that so much. Mask or no mask, it was so much fun to chat with strangers, to have little pleasant interactions, see them smile, hear them laugh. I felt lighter and freer than I have during the last two months! Oh, it’s still at the edge of my mind, this crisis, this pandemic, this fear - like a frame around it all - always reminding me “be cautious”, “do not touch”, “keep your distance.” When I see two people standing shoulder to shoulder, I immediately try to assess if they are a couple or family to each other. I can feel a shot of anxiety rising until that determination is made. It’s becoming a reflex. I almost jerk when I see people too close - and even passing on the sidewalk causes a moment of “oh, no”, are we too close?”, even though I know that passing b someone is too short a time to transmit anything to each other. This weird i...

 Afraid to Acknowledge written in 2014 I’m afraid somehow of my non-love for my mothers.  Barb for sure, although I can find justification for that. And for Odile - it’s hard to find justifications. And yet I feel I need them - to “should on” myself in case I discover I am just a horrid human being.  Lacking compassion for the ones who raised me and birthed me. I can speak of my longing for a good mother and for connection.  It is their fault I had neither. So I avoid it, on the whole.  Afraid I will appear ugly and ungrateful.  And yet I am ungrateful, on the whole. Barbara, my adoptive mother This is the only picture I have of her. I have no photos of my birth mother, Odile,  at all.

  I knew I was really a McGee. I kept the secret from the grownups and they didn’t speak of it either. But they knew.  Of course they knew. They had shown me the papers in which my REAL name was written. I thought about my real parents a lot. My adoptive parents would’ve been surprised, I think, if they knew how often I thought about them. They were so proud of how they had told me and my 3 siblings – about being adopted.  How we were special cuz we were chosen unlike other parents who stuck with whatever they got. They had this book that explained it all. How when grownups want a baby they to the adoption place where there are rows and rows of babies in bassinets. And they look at each baby in turn until they see the one that’s just right. Kind of like Goldilocks with the porridge being a baby, right? Then they take the baby to the cashier to buy it and they take it home. They take it home and come up with a name and BAM instant family.  Nice story. EACH OF us in tu...

 DEDICATION TO THIS PRACTICE What is the impulse to write? From where does it come? What’s it all about,  Alfie? I don’t know the answer - at least, no answer springs easily to the front, waviest its arms to say, “Yo - woo - over here! I am what you’re looking for.” For a moment, I will think of this impulse to write like going on a roadtrip. The very act of leaving home somehow makes me notice things more clearly - comparing to what I’ve seen before and commenting upon them, recording details with pen or camera to reflect upon another day,. So what might I find on this journey? A new viewpoint? A new friend? An unexpected adventure? A delightful surprise? As to my DEDICATION - well I think it will be of service to myself.

  MY FANTASY CHILDHOOD - BLUES RIFF (12 bar blues) Born on a sailboat Heading towards Tahiti Landed on first breath Named Lisa of the Sea Mama was a goddess Beautiful, talented and smart Papa was a musician with the world’s biggest heart Oh I’m a very happy baby Loved by all I see Yes I’m a very happy baby Travelling the world by sea We traveled thru the South Seas Around Kiwi-land and Oz Made friends a-plenty And then we carried on We made music every morning We danced all thru the night I was a happy healthy girl child And I felt  so right I had so many interests I flitted from flower to flower With the love that my folks offered I truly felt empowered Now I’m a happy healthy woman All the world is open to me Yes I’m a happy well-loved woman Excited by all i see See Sea See Yeah

AUDITION TIME Crossing the water Talking with friends Finding my way to the red door Remembering encounters The rush of excitement Grounding myself in the words Why did I stop Before it was over? Did the juice drain away? Illusion - all illusion Looking for newness Trying undone arts But true satisfaction Is only found on the stage.  

This is the Time This is the time for reflection, for slowing everything down, for spending so much time along, for wondering about my family elsewhere and the world as a whole. But this is also the time to look for the good, the beauty, the love, the care. As Mr. Rogers’ mother told him, “In a crisis, look for the helpers. There are always helpers.” Personally, I decided to use this enforced downtime as a way to connect with all I love most so as to reorder my priorities and find a better balance. Before this I was feeling somewhat ruled by forced outside myself.  I suppose that’s ironic though since boy oh boy are we ruled by outside forces now! Still I had previously made decisions and shouldered responsibilities that did not entirely resonate with my inner being. I aim to correct that. When I sit back and check inside, mostly I am just waiting to see what will happen. I have no brilliant insights. I do what I am told to do for everyone’s well-being, including my own. ...