My Bad Ass Dad - Part 2 "The Untold Story"

If you met my dad today you would say that he's an unassuming man.  Standing at 5' 9", he's considered tall for Vietnamese genes and his athletic built is still impressive since he's 60 years old.  My dad laughs a lot.  He always sees the humor in every situation.  Because of this perspective, his small almond shaped eyes pretty much disappears into a face of permanent laugh lines every time he smiles.  In the Western culture, most people would agonize over the aging process but my dad proudly wears his laugh lines because he has earned it.  Each wrinkle is a mark for a right of passage that may have never been told so he embraces it graciously.

My parents got married in their early 20's and it wasn't mutual love at first sight.  My mom was from a poor family of nine children made up of eight girls and only one boy.  Vietnam is a dominantly patriarchal society, which meant that males were the main bread winners.  To break her family's poverty cycle, my mom was determined to be educated which would open up more opportunities by elevating her social status to marry into a more wealthy family.  As with life, the stars played a different card for my mom so instead of marrying an educated man, as she had originally planned, she was bequeathed to my dad.  My dad comes from a family of thirteen children, consisting of 12 boys and one girl.  Living on a small island, my dad's family was one of the wealthiest families in their small village because all the boys were trained to be successful fisherman.  Having a crew of 12 males pretty much meant your family was financial secure by Vietnamese measures.  Unlike my mom, my dad was never an academic person.  He only attended school until Grade 7 and even then he was not a good student, as he fondly recalls constantly being whipped for day dreaming or not completing his assignments.  Instead, he preferred channeling his energy into martial arts, often practicing and training up to twelve hours a day.  He mastered his fighting skills to the point that his spiritual body would leave this physical plane so he would pursue training with spiritual teachers.

My mom's father eventually became violently ill and on his death bed begged my mom to marry my dad.  My mom had already fallen in love with another teacher, but her loyalty to her family's honor and her love for her dad was stronger, so she reluctantly obliged.  My dad had already fallen in love with my mom, often shyly observing her when she came to buy fish from his boats.  As per tradition, he had requested to court my mother, but it was quickly expedited to marriage because of my grandfather's sickness.  Little did my mom know, her father's dying wish probably saved her life.

Shortly after the US army pulled out of Vietnam in 1975, Vietnam's fragile, war torn country crumbled to the North's communist regime.  Although both of my parents grew up within the heat of war and were acclimatized to the brutality and violence that came with it, this new regime promised even more bloodshed.  My dad had volunteered to fight against the North Communists and his mastery of martial arts quickly promoted him up the ranks into a senior position.  After the fall of Saigon, the North Vietnamese quickly moved to install their new governing bodies. This included tracking down all the "rebels" that fought against them and imprisoning them within "re-education" camps to secure peace. Positioned as camps that provided proper education of the new communistic government through training and labour, the true goal was to indoctrinate the South Vietnamese with propaganda.  Divided into five levels, the re-training camps took every South Vietnamese citizen, and depending on there involvement in the war, systematically applied differing techniques to ensure everyone adjusted to the new social norms without further disruption.  Being a high ranking officer, my dad was classified to go into a Level 4 camp meaning there was no gentle "re-training" just a lifetime sentence of torture, punishment and poor living conditions.  Death would have been an easier out.

My dad had not only mastered the art of karate, but also the art of hiding.  For years, he was able to successfully avoid being re-captured by these education camps thanks to his younger fishing days.  As a teenager he had discovered a hidden and uninhabited island and harboured there from 1975 until 1977 peacefully by himself.  Even though he had married my mom, he mainly remained on the island while my mom stayed on the mainland to avoid capture.  News of my conception in 1977 created a further dilemma in an already tumultuous future.  My mom and dad were going to become parents.  A funny thing happens when you become responsible for a life that is not your own.  Your own life no longer matters.  What matters is that your child survives, at all cost.  My mom started panicking.  The newly established Communist regime, still ballsy and hot after overthrowing the Americans off of Vietnam soil, announced that they were going to invade Cambodia.  War was again knocking on Vietnam's doorstep.  My dad finally realized his home was no longer the place he wanted to bring up a family.  He concocted an elaborate plan to give his child the life he was never able to have.  My mom, the more risk adverse of the two, spent the next nine months crying.  She begged my dad to change his mind as she was positive his plan was a death sentence.  My dad remained steadfast in his beliefs and wisely told my mom "No, giving our child this life is a death sentence.  At least dying means you're at peace."

The next day he showed up at re-education camp and peacefully surrendered.  For the next year and three months, although academia always eluded him, he finally became the perfect student.  His obedient attitude earned him access to food, weapons and fuel which were the three elements he needed.  He was such a stellar student that he was even allowed access outside the camp to visit his family and wife.  Every day he would steal just enough so no one would notice and smuggled the much needed supplies out of camp. He secretly buried it on the island that had previously kept him safe.  My mom's job was to quietly assemble the group that would leave with us and collect "payment" from non-family members.  Having access to the army base also meant my dad knew intel of where all the heavily guarded areas were and where pirates were attacking the Vietnamese fleets.

The risky plan was coming together.  A week before it was supposed to be executed, my dad caught wind that someone had leaked word of his stealing to the Communists.  He had no choice.  Ready or not, it was time.  He stealthily sneaked out the camp to travel back to his family's island village and stole one of his family's fishing vessels.  He then steered the boat back to the hidden island and loaded all of the supplies he had hoarded.  In the safety of the night, he loaded 39 other passengers and prayed the unknown future ahead was better than the known future they were leaving behind.

In June of 1979, my dad became the unofficial captain of Faith.  Faith that risking it all was worth it.  Faith that dying was a better alternative than a lifetime of war, poverty and violence.  Faith that there was more to life than just existing in fear.  As we were leaving, Communist vessels spotted our boat and started pursuing us with all their fire power.  Instead of just resigning to the fact that their citizens were fleeing in unprecedented numbers, the Communists' preferred to just kill their citizens.  My dad's military training and fishing background played in our favor and he was able to out maneuver the Communist's fleet relatively unscathed.  The boat of 40 people released a sigh of relief as we were able to survive the first major hurdle of out running the government.

A few days later, while everyone was still sleeping, a wealthy couple that had paid my dad substantial money to escape, decided to take a shower and foolishly depleted the fresh water drinking supplies that was calculated to last a month.  My dad was equally devastated and enraged.  He had painstakingly planned out every possibility that could have gone wrong on this dangerous mission but he never foreshadowed vanity as one of them.  While other fleeing refugees died by fathomable perils such as dangerous storms, raiding pirates and rickety fishing vessels, we were near death because two idiots wanted to be clean.   Anarchy started setting on the boat as the 40 people realized that there was only enough water to last another week at sea.  My dad equally rationed off the remaining amount of water to everyone, but he secretly gave my 3 month old pregnant mom and his almost year old daughter an extra ration.   At the end of the first week our boat had out run and out gunned multiple pirates, but the real danger was the lack of water.  Both my parents sacrificed their ration of water to myself and my young aunt.  Even though my mom was pregnant, she drank sea water to help stave off the dying thirst.  At the end of the second week it was discovered that I still had some water rations, and in the middle of the night a desperate passenger held my mom and I at gun point. He demanded my dad hand over the last bottle or he could watch his family die.  My dad was not to be tested.  He had come this far and wasn't going to let some asshole take away his child's future so he quickly unarmed the desperate man.  To restore safety on the boat, he locked up anyone he felt was a danger. From that point on, he armed his entire family of 18 people with weapons.

We drifted at sea for another couple of days.  Everyone was dehydrated, weak and even delusional as death was staring each of us in the face...

My Bad Ass Dad - Part 1 "The Academic Story"

You never really appreciate your parents until you become one.  The unquestionable love you have for your children is one of the most powerful sources of energy on Earth.  This unshakable bond, created without conditions has the force to move mountains... in my parent's case... it made them move continents.

I remember being 17 years old and whining to my dad that he MUST buy me a remote starter for my car because I didn't want to walk out into the cold rain to start my car.  I'll never forget the look on my dad's face.  If he was dead, he would have crawled back out of his grave, find the biggest whipping stick he can and would have unflinchingly thwacked me upside my head.  But he wasn't dead... but he probably wished he was.  He gave me one of those soul bearing looks of grave disappointment.  You know the one.  The kind that brings so much disgrace to your family that it even dishonors your cow.  Glaring deep within the pits of my soul, he carefully chose these words, "If you can't even walk 10 steps in the rain then you should just end your misery and die."  Ya... my dad is a bad ass.  He is not the type to hug you and tell you you're beautiful.  He shows his love by telling you to stop being a pussy or for the sake of humanity just end it already.  Growing up, my dad loved to tell me all these crazy stories.  As a kid, you eagerly listened but it never really made any sense.  As an adult, the stories started to string together in fluidity creating what actually ended up being a truth.  My dad is an amazing story teller and I have to thank him for my gift.  These childhood stories were so outrageous that I always fondly filed them under the "Nguyen Legacy X-Files."  Filled with plot line twists, perseverance, sacrifice, inner strength and the spirit world, they definitely caught my imagination but were so dramatic that I thought for sure they must have been made up to keep us in line.  It turns out that these stories were actually OUR family story.  In 1999, I had to submit yet another effin essay for a Geography class.  Bored of writing about Native people and salmon (which I wrote ad nauseam for five years) I decided to investigate our own immigration story.  I was mind blown.  I sat on the information for a week and then hit up the library and hauled out piles of books and went batty reading micro-fiches (I know, I'm dating myself here.  Do the kids these days even know what a micro-fiche is)?  As I started lining up the information this new found respect for my dad overwhelmed me so much that when I finished writing my essay I bawled.  Not because the damn paper was finally over, but because I never knew how brave he was... and still is.  

As this was an academic paper I had to postulate the slant to fulfill certain criteria so I had to leave out the really awesome stuff like the time my dad pretended to peacefully surrender so he can enter the re-training camps with the goal of stealing ammunition, supplies and tapping the travel routes.   But, justice will be done and the "untold" story will finally be written in the next post.   

“I remember the days as if they were yesterday’s nightmare.  Our boat sailed like a wounded snake in a tremendous sea, miles off the land.” (Hawthorne 1982, p.231)

One of the fundamental techniques successful species use to survive within their dynamic environment is migration.  Change is the only thing constant in this “survival of the fittest” competition and so how species react or embrace this aspect becomes the deciding factor in which species will persevere and which species will expire.  Humans are no different in that we migrate and change our settlement patterns when circumstances, from political to economic, changes, and our equilibrium in relation to our environment becomes misaligned.  Within my own family, we have migrated, on all scales of movement, several times throughout my lifetime in response to varying push and pull factors.  In this essay, I will analyze and discuss the migration movements that occurred within my immediate family accounting back from 1979 until the very present.  The bulk of the information presented within this discussion was gathered from several interviews from my mother, my father and my aunt whom I believe have accurately provided me with reliable data.  The remainder of the information, mainly statistics and historical overview, have been supplemented through academic resources. 

THE INTERCONTINENTAL MIGRATION

The fall of Saigon on April 30 of 1975 marked the end of  thirty years of civil war between the two opposite economies and lifestyles of North and South Vietnam.  The communist government announced its objective of rebuilding Vietnam as a nation by gradually introducing communist policy.  Domestic and economic tensions finally peaked and exploded by the summer of 1975.  Although counseled by the government in the North to be “tactful and respectful of rights in the newly liberated areas” many of the Communist cadres exploited their positions and eventually influenced the new regime through corrupted force (Hawthorne 1982, p.121).  

This often hostile environment coupled with the constant threat of New Economic Zones, drafts, re-education camps, and political prosecution for being a former South Vietnamese soldier created formidable motivations for 130,000 Vietnamese, mostly ethnic Chinese, to flee their own homeland that summer of 1975 in conjunction with the American withdrawal.  Depending on the different kinds of refugees and their specific push factors, the waves of exodus took three general routes: migration was either legal, semi-sanctioned, or illegal (Gilad 1990, p.60).  For most ethnic Chinese, the migration process was generally legal to semi-sanctioned since Hanoi, the capital city, wanted to expel the Chinese people anyway.  As a result most ethnic Chinese experienced very little trouble leaving and usually escaped utilizing the route overland or through organized, quiet exits through the Orderly Departure Programme.  In stark contrast, the Vietnamese that wished to leave were left to secrecy and semi-illegal tactics as there was a substantial amount of obstacles and deterrents enforced by police.  As a result, the only route of escape was by sea and these attempts were severely penalized through imprisonment, torture, and even execution should one be caught by the officials and was unable to bribe one’s way free.  For those Vietnamese that had the financial power to semi-formally register to leave through the indirect organization of the Communist government, they still faced the dangers of the open sea and pirates  (Gilad 1990, p.61). 

            My father had been enlisted in the South Vietnamese military force that fought the civil war between the North and South.  After the fall of Saigon he quickly hid in the refuge of an isolated island near his island village of Binh Ba in Cam Ranh province in fear of being sent to re-education camp, re-drafted or politically prosecuted for being a former soldier of the old regime.  My mother stayed in Binh Ba during this period and communicated with my father about twice a month through relatives.  In the beginning of 1976, the security patrols in the waters around my father’s hide-out island relaxed, enabling my father to emerge from his hide-out and cautiously re-join my mother in Binh Ba.  Massive horror stories of failed attempts to escape by boat were told nightly in the village and my father took articulated notes on each mistake so that he could avoid mishap.  In his heart, he knew he had to leave his beloved country if the political and economic situation worsened, but for the time being, he would endure the painful transformation of Vietnam. 

At the end of 1977, Vietnam was catapulted into a deeper pit of problems as she unavoidably went to war with Kampuchea.  This announcement instigated another well organized, sizable exodus of people which was facilitated by the corrupted base of the government pyramid (Hawthorne 1982, p.123).  This guerrilla war, and the announcement of my conception by my mother, became the catalyst my father needed to finally concede that Vietnam was definitely not the country he wanted to bring up a family.  Through his stack of notes he had collected from others failed attempts, my father organized a well executed plan that took one year to prepare and three months to rehearse the execution.

In June of 1979 my family finally escaped the oppression and war-torn country of Vietnam with eighteen relatives and approximately forty others.  The people on the boat were all under twenty-five years of age and comprised mostly of extended families.  This statistic is consistent with the profiles of Vietnamese immigrants in the book Vietnam to America and suggests that the power of extended family and strength in the youthful age profile aided in the number of successful escapes (Kelly 1977, p.41).  On the six day at sea we were found by the Americans in Philippines waters barely alive.   Even though we were navigating our course using only the sun as a guide and dying of dehydration, we were grateful that we did not become one of the twenty-five to fifty percent of people escaping Vietnam who died before reaching landfall (Hawthorne 1982, p.227). 

Because Vietnamese, Kampucheans, and Laotians were fleeing in unprecedented masses from their Communist regimes in response to the defeat of American arms in Vietnam, a humanitarian appeal from the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees), was sent out around the world to help these refugees (Whitaker 1987, p.261).  Various bases, located on the shores of neighboring countries such as Hong Kong, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, and Philippines, were established as asylums and in total absorbed approximately 199,000 Vietnamese refugees in 1979 - the highest record year for Vietnamese departures.  The group on our boat was sent to the Subic Bay base refugee camp in the Philippines where they had to endure grim living conditions in cramp corridors for six months. 

On a pivotal day in December of 1979 my family finally entered the interview room where representatives from Australia, Canada, and the United States interviewed my parents to determine where they would be most successfully resettled.  Although my parents were not selected as candidates to reside in America, even though that was their preference and the rest of the relatives were allowed admittance, they were immediately offered a place in Canada with private sponsorships from a church group.  Reluctantly, my father, mother, aunt and I were separated from our other eighteen aunts and uncles in January of 1980 to migrate to Whitecourt Alberta in Canada by plane.  In terms of absolute numbers over a period of a decade, America took in approximate 389,000 of the Indo-Chinese exodus, followed by 250,000 immigrants for China,  66,000 immigrants by France and 60,000 Vietnamese immigrants by Canada - “the single most generous record of any major country in proportion to its population” (Whitaker 1987, p.262).

PROVINCIAL MIGRATION

The place we came to know as home from 1980 until 1987 was the manifestation of everything my father wished for in his new life of freedom.  Whitecourt, Alberta in Canada, allowed us to have the freedom to discuss and criticize, to worship as we please, to earn a decent living, all under the nurturing umbrella of a just and fair government.  However, once again circumstances changed in our environment, although not as drastically as Vietnam did, but imposing enough push factors to motivate a secondary migration. 

Being a small, rural town located in the isolated parts of northern Alberta, Whitecourt did not offer enough resources and opportunities for the children and my aunt to acquire post-secondary education or be more involved and exposed to our Vietnamese culture.  In addition to this, my father, the primary income earner of the family did not want to spend the rest of his career life “rotting” in a sawmill.  In Vietnam, my father grew up beside the sea and loved the freedom and adrenaline rush that the fishing industry offered.  He ached to return once again to the “calling of the saltwater that coursed through his veins”.  British Columbia had the most alluring pull factors with its natural coastline that boasted a varied and prosperous fishing industry (please keep in mind it was 1987), a strong Asian community that catered to the cultural needs of the Vietnamese people in greater Vancouver and many educational opportunities ranging from technical institutions to three universities.  In addition to these vital infrastructures, the migration to British Columbia was not that far in distance and costs, and its natural beauty and temperate climate conjured nostalgic images of Vietnam.

In 1987 our family once again uprooted themselves and moved to the Greater Vancouver Area in British Columbia.  According to Canada statistics from the 1991 census the majority of Vietnamese people reside in one of the four largest provinces: 45% in Ontario, 18% in Quebec, 17% in Alberta and 13% in British Columbia.  Within these large provinces, a substantial amount of the Vietnamese community have become highly urbanized.  Like most Canadians in this present day, Vietnamese people have migrated from rural to urban areas in masses for more economic and educational resources and opportunities.  Not only are the cities an agglomeration for labor but also for ethnic cultures as well.  For this reason, it is not a surprise that in 1991, 93% of all immigrants from Vietnam lived within a Census Metropolitan Area in comparison to 84% of  all immigrants.  The attraction of minority clustering for Vietnamese people in urban areas can be seen with statistics: 32% of Vietnamese reside in Toronto, 16% in Montreal and 11% in Vancouver (Statistics Canada 1991). 

METROPOLITAN MIGRATION

In 1987 we called Richmond home, but were forced to make a tertiary migration to Vancouver in 1988, because my parents could not afford the high inflation rate of the suite we were renting along with the cost of living for a growing family.  For two years we endured the high traffic, noise polluted streets of Vancouver, however the lull of suburban Richmond drew us back to the less hectic lifestyle my family needed to prosper.  Presently, my family consisting of my father, mother, and my siblings, have contentedly resided in the south eastern quarter of Richmond.  My aunt has started a family of her own, consisting of her husband and two children who also live in Richmond. 

Although for the past decade we have not made any moves besides the odd change of address in Richmond, I believe the migrating story for this vertical slice of the ancestral line will continue.  The degree of how much this migration will continue is dependent upon the individual’s definition of what constitutes “home” in relation to what the immediate environment, with all its political, cultural, economic and social institutions, offers.  In life, if the only constant condition one can count on is change in the “survival of the fittest” competition, then migration for all species is inevitable.

The Shift

These are extraordinary times.  As spiritual beings having a human experience we are all being challenged to take our experience to the next level.  Some metaphysical teachers define this as "ascension" where humanity collectively takes an evolutionary leap upward into a dimension where we operate from a totally different speed.  Scientifically, evolutionists cannot explain the gaps in our timeline so they have labelled these gaps as just "missing data" that has yet to be discovered.  These "gaps" explained by the spiritual teachers are actually ascended steps, each one activating a portion of our unused DNA that allows us all to powerfully create our reality.  Instead of gradually evolving, we just altogether take leaps and bounds.

Currently we are all immersed in a three dimensional reality based on fear.  For whatever reason, we collectively as a group operate out of this energy field and this sadly just leads to a world of negativity.  We fear losing our home so we stay in a job we hate.  We fear being alone so we intellectualize that staying with our emotionally abusive partner is justified.  We fear that we we're not good enough so we don't bother pursuing a dream.  We fear the unknown so we actively isolate any triggers of change.  The current economic and marketing system uses this fundamental fear as the driver behind all their unsustainable practices.  To successfully sell you a product, marketers must focus on what you currently don't have and how unhappy your life is because you don't have it.  Even "feel good" companies such as Lululemon draws on this fear based energy.  If you don't embrace an active lifestyle, consuming non-GMO and gluten free foods while wearing spandex to wick sweat away while concealing cellulite during McYoga than you must be an unhappy budgie.  

Part of our 3D world is the concept of duality so even though the majority of us behave from a fear based model, some do consciously live from a love based energy.  People living their life from this paradigm focus on what their hearts want and push their fears aside.  They understand when they pass on from this world, the unstable economy that has us chained to materialistic consumption has no value to a spiritual being having a human experience.  When you leave your human suit and go back to the Source, you will look back at your life cycle to evaluate if you were truly living an authentic life.  Did people mourn you because you took the time to be of service to others?  Are others missing you because you showed them kindness and sheltered them at their lowest point when the rest of the world ignored?  Do people share stories of how inspirational you were because you constantly challenged them to pursue their dreams?  Do strangers, who don't even know you while you were alive regal how your contribution to society lifted them from despair to motivation?

Our current duality is constructed to remind us that everything is fleeting and nothing lasts.  Our time on this Earth is finite so don't take anything for granted.  We unfortunately can't appreciate all the positive things in our life without the constant reminder that everything changes.  When we signed up for this human experience, everyone of us created a contract filled with duality.  We will all love deeply and suffer intensely when that great loves returns to the source.  We will trust and betray, experience exhilarating wins and fail miserably, learn compassion and pass judgement, share passion and jealousy and also heal and wound.  Along with that we all play the roles of teachers and students, creators and destroyers, and explore both our light and dark sides.  All of these aspects are collectively us.  No one wearing a coveted human suit wrote their life plan to be "perfect" because our Highest Self is already perfect.  Instead, our highest Self wanted to experience an imperfect world to add to our collective experience.

In the last couple of months, I can feel the energy that is core to life shifted.  We have been injected with a higher level of energy and as our bodies adjust to this new level of energy chaos within ensues.  In my previous post, I share personal tragedies of people that are dear to my heart to show that this destructive chaos has been surrounding everyone.  If you're brave enough to go outside your own inner world and expose yourself to the media, you will see fundamental collapses that define nations.  The economy based on sucking our Earth dry is crashing.  The political climate of mistrust and greed have protesters questioning and pushing back.  Our planet has been revolting with crazy weather conditions, massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

Creative destruction was a term born out of capitalism and defined as destroying previous economic order to devalue existing wealth, with the objective of clearing the grounds for the creation of new wealth.  Our current energy is labelled as low vibration as it is based on fear.  Energy based on love is a higher form or vibration of energy.  To understand this complex concept, I like to use the analogy of a radio.  Depending on your frequency (or energy) you can tune into certain channels and receive information.  This information becomes your reality.  Just because you can't pick up a certain signal doesn't mean that channel doesn't exist.  I guess the Universe is tired of hearing the same bullshit, negative channel on Earth so in the last 5 months we have been upgraded to a higher frequency.

Some of us won't make it with this energy upgrade.  Some of us have agreed prior to reincarnating to opt out during this messy transition.  Those that have chosen to exit prior to this period actually are assisting those that chose to stay.  With their exit, they leave a heavy legacy that triggers those still sleeping to finally wake up.  Losing a loved one is a life altering event.  It causes all your sub-conscious emotions to finally come out and you have no choice but to face and accept them.  If you were living a lie, your loved one's death will stop your world from rotating as just existing in life is no longer acceptable.  The new energy does not tune into lies.  The new energy tunes into truth as that is what love is all about.  The truth is, living a life that accepts yourself for who you really are is powerful.  The truth is, our thoughts are a powerful form of energy that creates your reality.  If you constantly focus on what you don't have, the Universe obliges to your thoughts and will create a negative reality to support your thoughts.  Conversely, if you focus on the positive moments and show gratitude for the ebbs and flows in life, the Universe will oblige and create a happier reality.

The tricky thing is we are still in 3D which means duality exists.  During this creative destruction process the only advice I can part is to go within and really assess your thoughts.  If you're an over thinker like me this is a daunting task.  There are many moments where my mind wanders and I think of thoughts that are typical of a negative based form of energy:

"I'll get fat if I eat all of this"
"If I don't work harder I'll never get out of debt"
"If I don't parent better my kids will end up on the Maury Povich Show"
"If I open my big mouth, it's going to come back and bite me in the ass"

Monitoring the endless monologue of negative thoughts is exhausting but an exercise that must be done if you want to live a happier more fulfilled life.  With the new energy, thoughts create form almost instantaneously and that's why the last 5 months have been intense.  What used to take longer is happening quicker.  The perception is that time is speeding up because of this illusion that form occurs instantaneously.

It's an exciting time to be a spiritual being having a human experience.  Everything ordinary has just become extraordinary.

The Break

ME:  Echo... echo... hello?  Testing.  Is anyone out there?

UNIVERSE:  Hey slacker, get off your ass and start telling people your story.  I didn't gift you with a big mouth for nothing.

ME:  Who are you calling a slacker you jack ass?  I had a busy year mang!  You do know I'm an entrepreneur, mother of two small children, my husband operates a daycare out of our home and for shits and giggles I chose to live with my high drama brother right?  It's a small miracle the kids are actually alive and with all their original body parts in tact!  I am still waiting for my "Mother Of The Year" award.

UNIVERSE:  It's go time.  I gave you enough "synchronicities" that even you can no longer ignore it.  Accept your fate.  Unleash the voice.

ME:  (Shakes my fist into the air)  You go blog!  There's an episode of The Originals on my PVR.  I need my Ian Somerhalder fix!  Mmmmmm... nummy... there's priorities in my life you know!

UNIVERSE: (Hijacks my life line, aka my iPhone, and dramatically inserts this):

 

ME:  Whoa dude... shits got real.

As Audrey's dear friend Rosie had commented above, it has been almost a year since I put my crazy thoughts into form.  My year long hiatus is not actually due to lack of content but more like it's just been crazy busy.  Time has literally slipped through my fingers.  If you follow my Facebook rants and musings you'll know that my time has been hilariously fully booked by my personal Yin and Yang team (the kids).  Like a seasoned sadomasochist, whatever time is left over is squeezed for the good, the bad and the ugly retail world I subject myself to and if I'm really good at time management, I drink... a lot.  Last year also brought on some good ol' fashion, intense family drama that required a halt of everything else just to sort through the mess.  And I'm not talking about the kind of drama where you find out during a Thanksgiving dinner that your Aunt Edna lost her virginity at band camp.  I'm talking more like if Maury Povich and Grey's Anatomy had a baby, they would have birthed "Holy Effin Hannah and Damn That's Gonna Hurt" drama.  And even with all that juicy content, I still wasn't seduced enough to share it. 

I just chose to stay quiet.  On the down low.  Just observing.  Assimilating new information.  Purging destructive old constructs.  Breathing life into new ideas.  Re-examining patterns.  Closing chapters that have been read.  Letting go of behaviors that no longer serve.  Enjoying the small moments.  Showing appreciation to those that hold me up.  Just being.

Then something shifted in mid March.  I remember catching an update out of the corner of my eye from one of my friends back in February so I went back to refer to it:

 

As referred to by Joy's post, right on cue my world has markedly intensified since March 21st.  It started with my good friend Jenn.  Her favorite Auntie Lorraine suffered a heart attack followed by a stroke back in late November.  Auntie Lorraine's fighting spirit kept her bound to her family for a couple months but then on March 26th she slipped into eternal peace.  As with the loss of all beloved family members, time will eventually heal Jenn's broken heart but in the meantime a niece is in pain. 

 

On April 3rd, Rick Hansen's grandson passed away one day before he was expected to be born.  We worked quite intimately with the Hansen's on their new home last year and forged an amazing bond to the family.  When we heard their eldest daughter Emma was pregnant, both Rachael and I squealed in delight and our hearts grew a thousand fold because we knew this little one was being born into the most loving family.  For almost nine months, we kept a pulse on Emma's pregnancy as we too were eager to meet the newest member of this blessed clan.  On Good Friday, one day before Emma was suppose to deliver, her sweet little Angel decided to return amongst the Heavens.  My heart broke at the devastating news and I bawled as I read the incoming text from Krista.  Although I personally never met Emma, I felt in that dark moment her tragic story could have easily been any of ours: http://www.sincerelyskin.ca/blog/2015/04/13/born-still-but-still-born/.

 

In an attempt to stay healthy, our family has enlisted the services of a personal trainer to keep us motivated as we approach our mid life crisis.  Clive has been working with everyone in our family (ironically with the exception of me) to get us all into shape since last year. Tragically, last month his mother instantly died in a freak car accident.  When we heard the awful news everyone fell silent.  Last year, Clive's best friend took his own life and shot himself in the head with a gun.  The insurmountable loss that this one human has experienced within one year is beyond comprehension.  Yet... some how, Clive is back at the gym and still pushing his clients to be their very best. 

 

In the middle of April, my professional sidekick Rachael was also forced to say goodbye to an Aunt that was battling cancer.  We knew of her ailing health for about a year now so her death was not a surprise but her timing was eerily accumulative.  One of the perks of being my professional sidekick is that you're exposed to my crazies 24/7 so being the bright girl that she is, I'm sure the synchronicities piling up in both our lives was becoming unnerving.

 

At the end of April, Khanh one of my best friends texts me that her husband lost his job of 15 years.  I stare at my phone in disbelief.  My poor friends have been struggling with a lot of issues for many years now and this event I knew would be the turning point in their lives.  I can feel it.  For the next hour I'm on the phone doing the best I can to support them through this.  This one really pulls on the heart strings and I send a prayer to the Universe to give them the strength to get them gracefully passed this. 

 

In between all of this, my brother finds an amazingly sweet dog just happily lost amongst the bushes.  He tries to locate the owner but then decides to adopt him after realizing the teacup Yorkie was in really poor health probably due to the fact the previous owner neglected him.  He names the spunky fur-ball Linus and as with every responsible dog dad, he takes him to the vet for check-ups.  On the advisement of the vet, Lairay decides to go ahead with a surgery that removes a dozen rotten teeth to improve his quality of life.  Linus goes into shock from the complications of the surgery.  Over a period of a week and thousands of dollars later, Linus' health is precariously teetering on the brink of life and death.  My brother, guilt ridden for unwittingly putting him through the surgery makes the heart breaking decision to administer the last needle to end the poor creature's suffering.  Linus is now in doggy heaven running with our other dogs Yipsy and Loonie. 

 

Last week, Steph notices an odd Facebook post on my best friend Aliea's wall.  I check in to see if everything is okay only to learn that absolutely nothing is okay.  Her brother Bob, discovered their eldest brother Eddie, dead in his room.  I go into shock.  My heart literally stops beating.  I can't find my breath.  Eddie is just a couple years older than me so I think he's almost 40.  I force myself to focus on the computer screen to make sure I read it correctly.  Unfortunately I did.  The autopsy results won't be back for a while but already the preparations to say goodbye to Eddie were under way.  For the next couple of days I follow my other family through a stream of texts and every night I hug my immediate family a little tighter and tell everyone I love them.

 

I'm not exactly sure what's going on.  All I can sincerely say is the Earth... or rather we, have gone through some major shift since March.  I can feel a marked difference and because of this, I have broken my year long silence.  Coaxed out of hiding, I am sent signs that it's time to share...

 

 

ME:  Okay Upstairs Peeps, as requested I've opened my big mouth.  You better have my back...

 

UNIVERSE:  You're not alone.  You're not the only one that has to share their story.  Everyone needs to share their story.  That's how you'll know we're actually one.

 

     

 

 

     

 

 

 

Mother's Day

Tomorrow will be Mother's Day.  Prior to becoming a mother myself, this holiday was about as exciting as International Administrative Professional's Day (formerly known as International Secretary's Day).  Unassuming and notably unobserved, this was just another Sunday that blended in with the rest of the Sundays.  That perception abruptly shifted on January 11, 2007 when I birthed a 7lbs 10oz fire breathing dragon.  Okay... this statement may be a slight embellishment.  Tai is actually an incredibly amazing son but considering my level of mothering experience he might as well have been a fire breathing dragon.  Actually upon further random pondering, the second child was more of a fire breathing dragon... Tai is a unicorn in comparison.  Irrelevant ramblings aside I was blindsided by the new title and nothing, I repeat, NOTHING can prepare one for this leg of the journey.  It is the worst and the BEST job ever.  Those that make it will proudly watch as they put forth children into the world that consciously create a better place for everyone.  Those that don't make it... well, they end up starring in a reality show or as Twitter content on TMZ to make the rest of us feel better about our subpar parenting abilities.   Like seriously, WTF happened to Miley Cyrus?

I swear the etymology of "mother" must have a Latin root that shares the word "torture" or "sadistic" some where in its lineage.  Starting at the ripe age of around thirteen, the female bodies go through a rite of passage where we bleed like a mofo once a month and miraculously some how don't actually die from it.  During our cycles, we are also at the mercy of uncontrollable hormones.  On the one hand we're eating mounds of chocolate to offset the unprovoked crying episodes while the other hand is grabbing a bottle of wine because we're so bitchy we can't even stand ourselves.  Minor inconveniences like retaining the entire Pacific Ocean and having your complexion erupt like Mount Vesuvius adds great pleasure to the existing quagmire.  If given the option, I know some females would have preferred changing into a werewolf during their Goddess moon in lieu of enduring some of the excruciating cramping that confounds this conundrum.  And all of this happens in preparation for bringing forth life from your loins.

Even with women's liberation and the modernity of "shared" parenting responsibilities, mother's still shoulder the majority of the burden.  Genetically, mother's just seem to have a deeper understanding of the sacrifices that have to be made to nurture that "little me" into a well adapted, happy and contributing member of society.  It can be as subtle as having the super hero ability of hearing your baby, who's bedroom is located down the hall, flip from one side to the other in the dead of your sleep.  Yet some how Dad is slumbering like a hibernating bear even though Junior is demonically screaming his face off right beside him.  It can be as relentless as you continuing to feed, clean, cuddle, and care for your baby even though you're deathly sick.  Yet if Dad so much has a little sniffle, the world stops rotating on its axis and he can barely manage to wipe his own arse let alone the baby's.  Mother's have an uncanny knack for multi-tasking.  It's natural for most to run a household, run a business and some overachievers even run marathons just for good measure.  Dads, well... most have a single focus.  Expecting them to multi-task as their Mom counterparts is like watching paint dry.  It's extremely painful... so painful in fact that it's just easier for Moms to just take the Dad's list as well.  Mother's are also selfless.  She will give up her shoe money, share the good food, repress her dreams, sacrifice sleep, and pretty much anything that originally brought her any happiness just so her babies will be happy.  Dad's actually have to go through this mental exercise of constructing weighted points assigned to each pro and con prior to any possible sacrificing scenario.  Here's a classic example.  Someone once asked Chris and I who would you save if you were only able to save one person, your child or your partner?  Obviously I passionately and without hesitation yelled, "My baby!"   There was a deafening silence from Dad.  Chris actually said (and I quote), "Well, I would save Huong because we can always make more babies..."  I know... insert horrendous mouth drop followed by my palm smacking the back of his head.  Who says this kind of shit?  Dads... dads say a bunch of this type of shit.

Needless to say being a Mother can be a thankless and sometimes really crappy job so when that one day of the year comes up to celebrate that status, Mother's have to OWN it... like a boss.  This year my BFF and baby sister is going to be freshly indoctrined into the society of "Mothers."  No one understands the sacredness of this day until you have become one.  Only another mother knows the pain you endured to earn those stretch marks or saggy milk boobs.  For my first Mother's Day, my mother in law went all out to celebrate.  At the expense of my father in law, she fabulously rented a limo to pick up all her moms and went downtown for afternoon high tea.  I was spoiled with flowers, an amazing purse and the best gift was she thanked me for honoring her with grandchildren.

Here are the three rules of engagement of owning it like a boss for all the newbie Mothers out there:

1.  All mom duties are nulled and void for the ENTIRE day.  You don't clean, cook or care for kids.  You lazily sleep in and you don't have to attend any type of kid function like sporting events or practices.
2.  You leave the kids.  Like... you get the hell out of the house and do something kidless.  Get spoiled at a spa, get shitfaced with your girlfriends, get some retail therapy or even better yet, get out of the country and lay on a beach.
3.  Dads pick up the tab for number two.  If you even think about negotiating it, be prepared for the wrath the rest of the 364 days.

Conversely, on Father's Day the rules of engagement are as follows:

1.  You spend the entire day... scratch that... the entire weekend with your kids because let's face it, you don't spend enough time with them and this holiday is all about making up for it.  Take them to a game, or go camping, or go fishing which are all lovely activities that don't need Mom's involvement.
2.  The day is all about making memories with your kids and the only way to do that is to have them ALL day with you.
3.  Moms will support you by not judging that you brought the kids back all dirty, sun burnt because you forgot the sunscreen and half crazed on a diet of sugar cereal and chocolate because you actually didn't catch any fish on your camping trip.

Happy first Mother's Day Stephanie and from the bottom of my heart, thank you for honoring me with my amazing nephew.

     

  

Survival Of The Fittest

Back in my university days I logged a lot of time in the faculty of Geography, partially out of interest, but more out of survival.  I was actually aiming to graduate with a Business degree, but a funny thing happened along the way.  I discovered I was a natural at the creative side of business... aka, amazing in the art of bullshitting (marketers hate this label) but I was terrible at number crunching.  Core courses like economics, statistics, calculus, finance and accounting were my kryptonite.  To counteract my dismal grades produced from the number-crunching-hell-classes, I strategically took courses where I barely attended lectures, but still aced all the exams and assignments with minimal effort.  Most of these easy rides were in Geography and, unintentionally, I took so many of them that I ended up with a double major in Geography and Business at the end of my five year academic sentence.

Geography fascinated me.  I fell in love with the human geography side where the curriculum was focused on studying why humans lived where they lived.  The human geography courses cross referenced with anthropology, since the study of human culture was a natural fit with the physical environment humans live in.  One predominant theme that emerged from every culture was that the perception humans used to perceive their reality determined if they were able to successfully thrive in their environment.  Sit quietly and digest this one slowly.  I sat quietly for five years mulling on this different take on life and in my final year of Geography I eventually wrote an essay that took an entire semester to complete.  Entitled "Survival Of The Fittest," my essay was eventually used in a masters and doctorate thesis as I had documented evidence on how Cree natives used their perception on healing to cure AIDS and cancer, yet modern medicine at the time defined these as "incurable diseases."  In 1998, I wrote the following opening paragraph:

Several times throughout your human life, you will have had to confront the menacing presence of disease and illness regardless of who you are, where you are, and what cultural and environmental context you live by.  These obstacles of the human species have always constantly challenged us to invent methods that would enable us to, at the highest level, prevent ailments, or at least control and end its threatening course.  According to one medical anthropologist, David Landy, "there is an intimate and inexorable linkage between disease, medicine, and human culture."  That is, cultures are the weapons or defense mechanism created my human groups in response to impediments caused by sickness and trauma.  How successful these cultural weapons are against the inevitable adversaries will measure how each group has adapted in ones ever dynamic environment.

Flash forward 16 years and stress has become the modern day illness.  En mass, people are not dying of actual micro-organisms that attack our systems, people are dying a slow death because they are essentially living a lie.  The onset of technology has connected us, and through instant gratification we are all bombarded with messages of how green the grass is on the other side.  Layer on the constant unsolicited judging and factor in the easy access to knowledge without the necessary expertise to wield such power and what we have is a pressure cooker set to self-destruct mode.

The key to survival of the fittest, regardless of the constructs of place and time, is how you perceive the situation.  Does it really matter if unicorns don't exist?  The truth is, the mental health benefit of a person believing in unicorns outweighs the Wikipedia version of what is real.  The symbolism behind the magical creature represents an ideal of beauty and honesty which just so happens to bring immense happiness to the believer. This in turns, opens the gateway to gratitude which then naturally opens the door to love.  For this person, believing in this perception will boost their immune system with extra "coping" juice for all the other experiences that bombard them throughout their day.  Somewhere along the way many of us lost the courage to follow what feels right for us.  Once we get out of our head, turn off the constant chatter of society, go within to find our heart, one will remember why we chose to reincarnate and walk this lifetime.  Each of us have a mission.  Each of us are connected.  It is only when the majority of us embrace our own unique path will we finally release the binds that hold our evolution back.  Currently the majority of us adopt ill fitting suits because we don't know any better.  Some of us are forced to wear a toxic suit by people we perceive are more powerful than us.  While others reluctantly wear a sheep suit because we fear the unknown.  Anytime we don one of these suits, the stress of living a lie will eventually manifest itself in various illnesses.  Every cell in your body knows your truth.  When your behaviors and thoughts align with your true purpose, at a cellular level the energy freely flows and taps into the collective Universe's flow which is limitless.  Miracles and magic occur when one has accessed this unlimited bounty of energy.  Every time you are out of alignment of this truth your cells resist, which creates blockages which in turn cause sickness. 

In my essay I argued how the Cree nation's approach on treating illness would eventually surpass modern medicine's ability to heal.  Strongly ingrained in their culture is a fundamental understanding that the Spirit, mind and body needed to be in balance.  Balance is not defined by calories or how big the square footage of your home is or what you do for a living, but rather that you are connected to the flow of the Universe.  The true energy of the Universe is based on love.  Today, most of us base our behaviors on fear.  We fear we will have no money so we stay in a job we hate.  We fear being alone so we stay in relationships that are abusive.  We fear failure so we never try.  We fear not being accepted so we never speak out.  We fear the unknown so we resist change.  We fear being ridiculed so we don't dare live our dreams.  We fear we are unworthy so we don't accept love.  This fear created a society that is depressed, anxious, stressed and ultimately unhappy.  Modern science ignores the Spirit and mind factors and exclusively treats just the body which essentially is a band aid approach.  The media reports the number one killer of first world nations is stress.  Clearly this narrow view of treating just the body is ineffective as the illness always reoccurs into other forms.  Filling prescriptions and labelling our various illnesses has not moved our world forward.  Our most vulnerable population, our children, somehow have been conditioned that they can no longer cope with life, and happiness is manufactured only through consumption of goods.  This unsustainable logic, of course, will create feelings of disconnection because "things" do not equate to happiness.  Happiness is created by being in alignment of your true self, not how high you can rack up your Visa bill.  Some where along the continuum of science and Spirit we went so far to one side that everything we do now is from the head and not from the heart.  This current cultural perception was created by us, so if we so choose, we also have the power to dismantle this ill-fitting context and create something else.   

The other night I had an intense dream.  I was one of the directors of a school.  The actual building of the oceanfront school was a hybrid of Hogwarts Castle and Xavier's X-Men's extended mansion.  The "school yard" consisted of an expansive farm on one side, and unspoiled nature on the other side.  Instead of metal play structures, the students played amongst the trees, the grasses, and or the beach.  As I walked through the different faculties the children were fully engaged in their lessons and all the teachers were actual people that existed in my life.  We had a large culinary faculty that collaborated with the agricultural faculty to show that the circle of life cannot be disconnected.  The children were taught to show compassion if you chose to eat meat and there was an emphasis on respecting Mother Earth for her contributions.  Life skills of hunting, harvesting, identifying medicinal qualities of plants, gardening and preparing foods were emphasized.  In the arts area, children were encouraged to express themselves in all forms of creativity.  In the Spirituality faculty, children were taught on community minded character developments.  Focus was on connecting with each other and discovering your purpose.  In the physical activity faculties, mental exercises such as meditation were intertwined with yoga and martial arts.  Traditional subjects such as communications, math, technology, science and history rounded out the knowledge.  The biggest difference in this school was an emphasis to flow in the energy of love and not in the energy of fear.  Students were taught to follow their passion, trust in the Higher power which is actually themselves, worry less, enjoy the small moments and practice gratitude.  The value that carried weight was not competition but rather community because at the end of the day, no one cares how bright you are but rather how your light ignited others.

The experienced Cree healer will tell you that illnesses are a reflection of a sick Spirit and mind.  Treat these pillars and the body will heal itself.   The cultures that apply this perception will essentially be the fittest to survive.

(PS... if this blog resonates with you, please do share the link.  I was also told in my dream it was time to wake up the others.)





 

The Synchronocities of Coincidences - Part Two

I'm not an athlete.  If I'm running its because a) I have discovered an amazing sale or b) something evil with red glowing eyes, and fangs dripping in blood is chasing me.  Thank gawd the second part doesn't happen often because instead of sitting here blogging, my lack of athletic prowess would have sacrificed this dense human suit to be a juicy fuel source for said demon.  But, pathetic disclaimer aside, I LOVE the spirit of the Winter Olympics.  When Vancouver hosted the Winter Olympics back in 2010, the city just felt magical.  The enthusiasm, sense of pride and camaraderie fuelled this intoxicating energy that touched everything in our lives and for two weeks each and everyone of us belonged.  We Canadians were ONE.     

The dedication behind each and every Olympian representing Canada is a story of passion, dedication to their art, having the courage to let go of everything and risking it all just for the chance to live their highest self.  Weaved into this larger overlay is the subtle undertone that in the beginning, these Olympians just knew they were born to be here for a reason.  Their parents knew their child was going to do something amazing.  Their support team comprising of coaches, teachers, neighbors and extended family members knew that this child was going to be extraordinary.  An Olympian just doesn't happen overnight.  An Olympian shows the Universe what they want, and the Universe supports in kind.

The Law Of Attraction is one of many laws that govern our existence and a theory widely known in both the scientific and metaphysical academia.  What most people understand of the the Law Of Attraction is the basic definition that "like attracts like."  What a lot of people don't understand about this definition is that it is based on vibrational frequency.  Say... whaaaaaaaaaat?  Vibrational frequency is the energy you create which are formed from your thoughts and emotions.  Believe it or not, we all are connected through this subtle energy field, or vibrational frequency and the interaction of one person will affect another.  This is popularly known as the "butterfly effect."  Everyone has the ability to pick up on each other's energy as it's an effortless communication system that binds us regardless if you speak to one another or not.

The Law Of Entrainment states a more powerful form of energy has the ability to capture or entrain the weaker ones into its level of vibration or frequency.  Practical examples have punctuated our history illustrates some of humanity's worst and highest moments.  High profiled leaders such as Attila The Hun, Adolf Hitler, and Josef Stalin's vision entrained and immobilized their nation into believing that executing another race or faith was ethical, demonstrates the negative application of this theory.  On the flip side, leaders fighting for inclusionary rights such as Martin Luther King Jr, the Dhali Lama and Ghandi have captured the hearts of multi-nations and moved humanity forward based on love.  These historical references illuminate the macrocosm of universal energy forces and the power of entrainment.

On a microcosm level, each of us have the ability to influence our energy fields by simply thinking about it.  Make no qualms about it, your thoughts are powerful and they create your reality.  Have you ever noticed that you were in an amazing mood but when you showed up for work your normally bitchy boss is being an extra douche bag so your mood goes from a Mary Poppins high to like a Mr. Grouch low?  All of a sudden, everything is shitty.  Your coffee that you normally enjoy is cold, you get a paper cut and you react like your arm just got amputated and your BFF's usually hilarious stories is translating more like Fran Drescher rather than Seinfield.  Your witchy, asshole of a manager has just successfully entrained you into her lower vibration and congratulations, you now hate life and are stewing in the cesspool of ugliness.  You might as well be crawling on your belly alongside the slimy, loin clothed Gollum, picking at skinny fish bones at the very bottom of Mount Mordor and pining forever at the lost of your Precious.

The other reality can be today.  I am literally vibrating and may even exaggerate as to say hovering.  Although I personally don't know any Olympian and have declared myself an athletic idiot, I am just so proud.  The symbolism behind each medal earned by the best of the best Canadian athletes makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  I feel so energized that maybe today is the day I might try putting on that cape and flying.  My house is in shambles, and yes of course I should clean that creepy ring in my toilets but I don't care.  I'm on Facebook, Twitter and Google and just enthralled with the magic.  I love how my friend in Steveston announced just a couple days ago that he would open up his restaurant at 4AM this morning to celebrate the men's gold medal game.  Not surprisingly, even though they couldn't serve alcohol his event sold out in a day.  I love how all my friends on Facebook took on the Canadian pride and inundated the news feed with posts of love because we won GOLD for both women and men in the one sport that defines us.  Do you feel that?  That is some potently, powerfully awesome energy, and everyone can make the decision to connect into it.

The other day Jasmine Bharucha, a local real estate agent came into the store.  I recognized her because this petite, attractive woman has her face plastered on all the bus stops in our neighborhood as advertising for her business.  She is a friend of a client of ours and although she has been in the store before, I never had the chance to speak to her one on one.  That morning I decided to take the opportunity when she mentioned that she loved what we did with her friend's home.  Rachael has been working on this project for over a year and basically gutted the modest home to bring it from it's original 1970's status into the current millennium.  Jasmine shared that she started off her real estate career actually as an interior designer ten years ago so her appreciation for our work is based from a more professional stance which made her compliments that much more flattering.  We discussed the actual technical aspects of the design and then she dropped the "holy shit" factor into the conversation, "Did you by any chance bless or cleanse the home?"  "No, we just did our design thing although I have personally cleansed spaces that didn't feel right."  This admission naturally lead into all things esoteric.  I learned that Jasmine started changing her business practices years ago when she realized she needed to work with only those clients that "grooved" with her.  She has been a student of metaphysical studies which primed her to her ah-hah moment.  She realized that she needed to stop saying "yes" to everything and anyone that walked through the door and take on only what and who she actually loves.  This shift in perception created an abundance even she couldn't even dream of.  The Law of Attraction works in conjunction with energetic vibration because what happens is you attract experiences that support your vibrational level.  If suddenly you decided you are done working with asshats and only want people that appreciate the talent that only you as a unique human can bring, you have just shifted your vibrational energy to a higher one.  This in turns, attracts experiences that will support that reality.  When Jasmine had this mental break through, her business flourished.  She now meets her clients, honestly assesses their homes and creates a plan to get it to sell at the highest dollar.  The home is the heart for many people so sometimes the critical assessment is painful as it may feel like a judgement on your character.  Jasmine ignores the "drama," doesn't pussyfoot around her technical skills and tells the truth regardless if the potential client likes it or not.  She has faith that the ones that understand her, yes may quietly cry but then gets over it and moves onto the business of offloading their biggest asset at the highest price.  During this assessment, the other thing she quietly does is feel if their energy synchronizes with hers.  If she doesn't feel the connection, she knows the pairing is going to be fraught in frustration and friction and she expertly declines the client.

Jasmine has these big, beautifully warm and soulful eyes that are framed with these thick, luscious eyelashes that one can trip over.  She quietly cocks her head to one side and just stares at me.  I suddenly feel self conscious.  She clarifies her opening question, "So you didn't burn sage or salt or anything like that to her house?"  "Nope."  "How is it possible the energy feels so different in there?"  I answered her question with a blank stare.  Her big eyes light up.  "Ohhhhhhhhh I get it!  You must be one of those people that just changes energy by your presence too!"  Her normally soothing tone changes to one of extreme shrilly excitement.  She explains that with her own work, she will go into a home and just "hold the space."  She will over ride the current mojo cruising through the home if it felt out of balance from hers and imprints it with her own.  She then marries this with her technical abilities of design and that's her magic for selling homes.  She has boasted that all her homes have sold in under 60 days when consciously she works this way.  She leans over the counter and waves one confident finger at me, "You will do well because you design with your energy of passion and your love of being a service to others.  You don't know it yet, but when you work this way Universe will support you."

This coincidental conversation with Jasmine unfolded the very next day after the first coincidental conversation with Anne-Marie.  Two back to back conversations regarding vibration and esoteric theories with two different people.  I believe, the magic of life is being aware of all the synchronicities occurring. 

After Jasmine left, I started writing up a blurb on the last project we professionally shot for our social media.  Again, my girl Rachael connected so deeply with these clients so it naturally translated into phenomenal work.  Even though I assisted and managed from the background and as a result was fully aware of what to expect, when I first walked into that space last weekend to photograph it, I was in awe.  The goosebumps prickled the skin and the sense of wonderment flowed through my system.  I recalled this moment and tapped into this energy to start the write up so the first sentence emerged gracefully, "These clients were starting the next chapter in their book - living an inspired life..."  I stopped typing mid sentence.  Something from this sentence resonated something from deep within.  For five years I have been searching for the perfect slogan for the business.  In sad attempts, we clumsily and awkwardly tried three different catch phrases but honestly they were all terrible.  I graduated with a degree in Business with specialization in marketing so the fact that I couldn't even cook up something clever that embodied what I did was especially embarrassing.  In that moment, it finally did HIT me... like... in the face...  An inspired life.  Five years of fumbling through marketing slogan hell and here it is.  It effortlessly unveiled itself because the coincidences started to all connect.      

I find the real success in life is not what you have accomplished but rather what you have discovered by uncovering more about who you are. People who suspend their fears, live from their loves will inevitably push themselves to experience someone who is far more greater than who you originally imagined yourself to be. Those who feel trapped in a cycle of negative perceptions should fundamentally understand you create it therefore you have the power to dismantle that reality and connect with an alternative energy that brings you happiness.   We are all here to live an inspired life.  Today, the Canadian Olympians owned the podium and brought a nation together simply because they lived their inspired life.  Because at the end of it all, we are powerfully one. 

  

The Synchronocities of Coincidences - Part One

I love hearing people's stories.  I remember sitting in a performance evaluation during my younger years and being told by my manager that "gossiping" was frowned upon and I should direct my energy towards more positive things.  It was my first job and I was utterly confused.  "If I can't talk about people, what the hell am I suppose to talk about?"  My manager clarified that if I talked about people behind their backs, it's considered gossiping and promotes a negative work environment.  I quipped with perhaps too much ballsy sass for a sixteen year old, "Well I wouldn't have to talk about people behind their backs if they weren't so private."  Yes, I am extremely nosy.  I must know what makes you click.  I must understand why you choose to do the things that you do.  Other people's lives fascinate me.  This is probably why I have been in retail for over 19 years and still feel passionate about people.  Any normal, non-gossiping person would have already off'ed themselves two years in and not make it a Game of Thrones epic career.  Pair this burning desire with a "no filter" type of communication style and it's comical really what kind of information I can extract and unique situations I get myself in.  Most people pussyfoot around delicate issues while my preference is to just bulldoze myself in, regardless if the welcome mat is out or not. 

Anne Marie Crosby is unique in the sense that not only is she a client of ours, but also a vendor as well.  I met her 5 years ago when she just moved into a waterfront Steveston condo and was working on furnishing her new home.  Two years ago I learned through one of my chatty interludes that she is also an artist that creates the most gorgeous oil paintings.  Inspired by the moving water and sky views from her waterfront condo, her paintings have an emotion and movement that literally jumps off the canvas and into your heart.  When you look at her art, something within just connects and the goosebumps that always electrifies the skin stirs your soul.  Last Spring we had the honor of showcasing 12 pieces from her collection in our store and our customers loved her work.  Yesterday Anne Marie came in and it seemed like forever since I last seen her.  She started off 2014 with that really awful H1N1 flu which kept her bed ridden and gasping for air for 10 weeks.  We went through the usual conversations about the weather but then I got bored so I decided to ask if her condo at Predator Ridge just outside of Vernon had sold yet.  Last year, she was at the stage of welcoming grandchildren into her life so she purchased a condo close to them with the plan of having a permanent place to create new memories with her growing family.  I remember her telling me how she loved the condo because everything felt so right and she bought it on a whim.  I found it so odd how a person a year ago loved a place and then 10 months later tries to offload it in a down market.  Something felt out of snyc with the chain of events so I just had to open that big, unfiltered yap, "So, why are you selling this condo again?" 

Anne Marie grew quiet, scanned the store to see if anyone was paying attention to our conversation and when she realized no one was actually in the store, she leaned in and quietly whispered, "Because I'm not suppose to be there."  It was the oddest statement.  Seriously, who the eff says that?  I cocked my head to one side which means the cogs are turning upstairs and blurted, "Whattadya mean you're not suppose to be there?  You're a grown adult, you can park your ass wherever the hell you want!"  Her body language shifts from being open and relaxed to one of nervousness and anxiousness.  Slowly she confides that everytime she travels to that area she gets really ill.  Not just like a headache or stubs her big toe, but really, really sick.  I'm not sure what compelled me but suddenly the following words just kinda rolled out of my mouth, "Are you an empath?  Maybe a dark energy stuck to you and is making you sick."  The words I clumsily hurled out caused Anne Marie to step back a bit and she had to grasp onto the sales desk to support her.  It was like I kicked her in the gut.  For the next 45 minutes, I learned that Anne Marie is actually a student of energy healing and is being mentored by a woman who uses this modality to move blocked energy from people to ease their pain.  The theory is that if one holds onto to negative energy caused by emotions such as resentment, anger and fear it would block your entire flow manifesting into various forms of illnesses.  Think of it like the plumbing in your home.  If something is blocking your pipes, no water will flow through the system and what happens is all that backed up shit erupts into your home.  An energy healer in this case is like the plumber.  Using different techniques, they can spot the blockage, remove it and your system is good to go.  No more shit wreaking havoc in your home. 

Empathic people or empaths for short are highly sensitive, intuitive people that naturally have an ability to pick up other people's and place's energies.  They are like a giant walking sponge and just soaks up whatever they are in.  I suspect I must be a weird derivative of this definition because although I am intuitive to energy I don't soak up other people's juju, I just read it.  I remember Annar (a psychic) mentioning that my energy level is abnormally high and she got a kick recharging off of me during one of our readings when she felt drained.  I also remember Trevor (a Master Starseed) saying I needed to ground my excess energy if I didn't want to fry my system.  Or perhaps my ego is so big that I just don't notice the "little" energies around me because clearly I am so much cooler.  Hmmm... ya that "cool" statement never really worked for me in high school either when I lamely tried it so I'm not sure why I would try it in my mid thirties.  Note to self, drop the cool facade.  Okay, well whatever the reason is, I am not an empath.  Empaths taking the route of servicing others walk a tight line of spiritual suicide if they have not mastered the art of purging the negative energies to protect their life force.  There are dark forces in the world and they gravitate to empaths like a bug to a light (notice the clever metaphor there). 

As our conversation deepens, it occurred to me a bizarre coincidence.  My other client, Joy Stewart (a channeller, yoga teacher and reikki master) was directed by a higher source to move from Steveston to just outside of Kelowna to help fix the energetic grid and hold the space for Mother Earth.  Apparently, Lake Okanagan lies on an energy vortex which amplifies energy.  For the studies behind it read: http://www.okinhealth.com/articles/earthstar-wheel-okanagan-lake-louise-leylines-vortex.  It is suspected that this deep lake actually has a large crystal bed beneath it and in the last decade it has been polluted with dark energy.  Joy was sent there to slowly clear this block and restore the positive flow in the overall movement of the global energy.  I remembered her mentioning that really, dark forces are drawn to this zone at this time but she wasn't scared because she had her "upstairs" team guiding her through it.  I mention this odd connection to Anne-Marie and her hands started shaking.  The ah-hah moment unveiled itself and it became clear why she was getting sick every time she travelled to this region.  The relief that it wasn't just her was cathartic.  My mouth opened and I dropped a bomb, "Don't you think it's weird you bought this condo on a whim and now you want to sell it but you can't?  It's like the Universe is conspiring against you so maybe you're not suppose to just run away from that area.  Maybe you are suppose to actually team up with Joy and help restore that zone."  Anne Marie drops an even bigger bomb, "You know what's really weird?  I woke up this morning and even though I didn't feel well I just had to walk into Steveston.  I got my coffee and then thought, I should check out the store not because I needed anything but because I wanted to lift my spirits.  Something about this store always does that for me and I always thought it was the way you put everything together.  Today I finally realized it's actually because its your energy.  And I'm an energy healer and didn't even realize that!"   The store goes quiet. We both look at each other in deep thought. 

I come home literally buzzing by my bizarre yet wonderfully crazy conversation and of course, I expose Steph to my story.  I tell her I love how the Universe deals these synchronicity cards.  Even though we're on the phone, I can tell she is rolling her eyes and she skeptically says, "It's just a coincidence." 

The U-Turn

Once in a while, the Universe likes to slap me upside the head.  Sometimes I'm clever enough to get my head out of my ass to appreciate the redirection to the path of least resistance but most times I'm too thick skulled to notice.  The beautiful thing of physically aging is you realize that as you get older, you don't heal as fast as you used to.  Those days of getting shitfaced, pulling an all nighter and going to work the next morning are not only just painfully ugly, but the option of death always seems more appealing then putting in eight hours wrapped around a toilet.  I'm not a spring chicken anymore.  I can't afford to be stupid because my recovery time as an old person is no longer on my side.  After much experimenting I have come to realize that I just need to roll with it and only when I LET IT GO, is when I realized I actually suffer a lot less.

You cannot control everything.  You are not responsible for everyone's happiness.  What people think of you, doesn't matter.  Just take a leap of faith in a higher power that everything that you were meant to experience will just happen.  Just LET IT GO...

I, Madame Tasker, Goal Setter Extraordinare, Textbook A Personality has decided to do a u-turn on this Earth Experiment.  I have been deconstructing systems that no longer serve me. Simultaneously I have been creating alternative perceptions that I enjoy more.  One of these perception shifts is simply choosing to focus on helping people find more happiness in their lives.  This is a natural function in the business I am currently operating because I'm entrusted to create beautiful spaces.  As per the HGTV channels, there is a lot of drama that goes with interior design because you're spending a sizeable chunk of change.  Anytime there is this level of money invested, emotions are always high when things go sideways.  I do my best to deliver on our commitment of customer satisfaction but let's face it... shit does happens.  How you apply that shit separates you from the clever farmer that uses it to fertilize her abundant crops to the miserable hoarder that was buried alive in it. 

This past Thursday was the most bizarre single day that has every happened in my five years of being an entrepreneur.  Two months ago I ordered the wrong size couch for a client.  In addition to this, the factory just had a flood so even if they wanted to help me fix my embarrassing error by expediting the re-order, they said it would take two months to get back to production.  Feeling absolutely awful for my client's inconvenience I offered him the incorrect sofa as a loaner and extended an extra 10% refund once the new one was delivered.  Two months later, the sofa arrives and he comes in to tell me personally that both his wife and him are just so happy with our level of service and design that he doesn't want to have a 10% refund.  Instead he said, "Just keep the money."  My jaw dropped to the ground.  I was speechless.  When I awkwardly rebuttled he just replied that if I feel that bad keeping the money then feel free to make a donation to my charity of choice.  I gave him a giant hug and he just said, "No thank you.  You have no idea how appreciative we are to have your team help us." 

After he left, another couple that was unhappy with the way their custom furniture was stained came in.  We had exchanged some emails prior regarding their concern so I already knew he and his wife were ready for a fight.  In conflict management I have learned it always best to let the disgruntled customer say everything that they need to say without interruption to ease the friction and pacify the aggression.  Essentially they were unhappy with the uneveness of the stain and as a result had a need to find EVERYTHING wrong with the cabinet.  I see this negative perception occur everyday.  Once someone decides that something is wrong, they will shift their preception to see only the negative things to support their claim.  They are so hell bent on their stance of being right that even after logic and facts are introduced they still refuse to accept any other perception.  This really is a choice in life.  After listening to their concerns for twenty minutes I professionally shared my opinion which essentially was not what they wanted to hear.  I stood behind my manufacturer because although they do make errors, this was not one of them.  This was a simple case of the customer having expectations that were unrealistic for this product so I attempted to manage it through a detailed explanation of woodworking to systematically debunk their negative stronghold.  Anedoctally, I told them that many customers love that look that they just so happen to label as "poor craftmanship" and even request it.  I can tell by their body language that they didn't believe me.  After an hour of talking in circles I finally put my foot down and said, "I know you are unhappy about the stain and I am willing to have a high end refinisher that works with antiques redo the stain for you at my cost because at the end of the day, I want you to love your furniture like all my other customers.  The product is not a defect and to show my commitment behind it, I will happily refund you your money because I confidentally know I can sell these pieces off the floor in a couple of months.  I don't want you to feel like you're being held hostage with something you hate.  I will not however give you an extra discount because there is nothing wrong with the cabinets."  They bedgrudgingly took up on my offer to get the cabinet re-stained but I'm sure they went home that night to make voodoo dolls of me.

After that heated debate, one of my favorite customer comes in as bubbly and chirpy as usual.  She recently purchased two armchairs from us that had an issue with the zippers.  She comes in with her cute little son in tow and goes to the floor model of her armchair to inspect it in an attempt to understand why her models are failing.  She squeals in delight that she found $2.25 when she removed the seat cushion.  I laughed really loudly because back in my IKEA days working in sofas, I used to find all sorts of change in the couches when I had to straighten out the cushions.  Strangely enough, I never actually found any money in my own store.  She gives me the change to which I said, "Nope it's yours baby.  Finder keepers."  She refused to keep the money and said, "Go treat yourself to a coffee.  You deserve it!"  I give her an update of where we are at on her chairs, she happily thanks us for being on top of things and she tells me about some other things she needs to finish off her home. 

After she left, I get an email from my delivery team telling me one of our manufacturers dropped the ball yet again and the repaired dining table for another customer was not ready because "they forgot about it."  This poor customer bought a table and only one of the leaves fit.  We went through hell and back trying to get the defective leaf temporarily fixed in time for Christmas but in the end, the delivery company screwed the pooch and forgot to drop it off.  She made it very clear that we ruined her Christmas dinner because two people couldn't sit at the table.  To make matters worse, the manufacturer wanted the entire table back to ensure the leaves are a perfect fit and they could only commit to a seven day turn around.  After another phone call explaining she would be without a table for a week and refunding her delivery fee, she politely lets us know she is extremely upset but understands.  Now after reading this awesome email, I had the pleasant opportunity to let her know that her dining table is going to take two weeks.  I attempt to soften the blow by offering 50% off the matching bench she was originally eyeing.  She replies that not only did I ruin her Christmas, but her Family Day and now she can't hold an Olympics function too.  Wow, who knew a missing table wreaked as much havoc in the world as a zombie apocolypse.  She professionally lets me know she understands it's not our fault but she will not be ordering anything else from us.  I'm pretty sure there will be a hashtag #mylifeisruined posted to Twitter soon.  

After that lovely interaction, I followed-up on a customer that complained her bed slats broke.  After listening to her, it occured to me that she just put her mattress straight onto the slats and of course it broke because the bed was designed to be used in conjunction with a boxspring.  I let her know that the product would not have failed if it was used properly as it was intended to be designed.  She starts screaming that no one told her that and if she knew she would have never bought the bed because she doesn't own a boxspring.  Ironically, for emphasis she said, "If I wanted to have my furniture fall apart I would have spent less money at crappy IKEA instead a lot of money."  What she doesn't know is that I have a photographic memory.  During the summer, this same woman asked me that exact question and I educated her on how this model needed a boxspring.  At that time she also asked if we had a lay away plan and I politely let her know that we didn't.  She commented that it was stupid and she wanted to talk to the person that was in charge.  I told her she was talking to her.  Then in the fall, she came back and asked about the boxpsring again and asked if she can have free delivery.  I politely let her know that the floor model was 50% off and I usually give one promotion but not both.  In this instance the savings of $1,300 was more than the $89.25 delivery.  Again, she said my rules were stupid and left.  In the winter, I guess she finally saved enough money and came in to get her dream bed.  Fast forward to two months later and she's telling me no one told her squat about the boxspring.  I just politely told her everyone in my store knows this model requires a boxspring.  She replies, "It's he said, she said and I'm not getting into with you."  I told her I know for a fact we shared this information and recant the two times I personally told her.  I have impeccable memory, especially when people affectionately call me stupid.  She's in shock at my recollection.  I could have left her high and dry but I do the right thing regardless of her negativity. I choose to ignore her lies and her poor attitude and decide to kill her with kindness.  To assist her, It tell her I will personally drive out to Surrey to pick up a slatted queen base that will convert her bed to a platform one, drive it back to her home, help her install it and only charge her for the wholesale cost of the part.  All of a sudden I'm the best thing since slice bread.

After her call, another client comes in and she's all smiles.  We have been working with her for almost a year and this poor girl finally installs this pendant light that has been on back order for 8 months just to find out that it actually doesn't work.  I feel so awful about it and apologize profusely for the run of bad luck.  She's visibly bummed but just brushes it off and says, "I know we'll figure out something, I'm not going to stress it."  Instead she tells me how much she loves everything so far that our talented Rachael has done and we debate about the challenges of modern day parenting, her community and how we secretly want to run away to Bali to avoid the expectations.  I help her with her rug into her car and she gives me a big hug.

It's finally closing time and after a day like today, nothing would have felt better than going straight home and opening a bottle of wine.  Unfortunately I have promised to drop off a stag head to a client because I was hoping she would install it prior to our professional photo shoot of her home on Saturday.  I trudge off hoping the transaction is quick and painless.  The good news is she loves it, the bad news is she asked me to install the wall decor.  Liability wise I'm not suppose to be installing shit but I break down and whip out her drill, hammer, drywall anchors, screws, level and pencil and hang the stunning stag head.  She lives in Ottawa but has a recreational home here and we start chatting about her husband who is a laser eye surgeon.  I commented if he was based here, I would go get my eyes laser corrected since I'm so nervous about doing it.  She looks at me and says, "If you ever come to Ottawa, he would do your eyes for free because he thinks so highly of you and all the beautiful work you have done for us."

Shit happens.  It doesn't matter if you're a saint or you're an evil internet troller, the one constant is no one escapes shit.  The beauty of shit is it is in the eye of the beholder.  The highs and lows of humanity albeit intensely, beautifully played out in an eight hour shift and at the end of it, I had the biggest smile because a) I finally had my wine and b) my perception stayed focussed on my first and last interaction.  The rest, I'm just letting it go...  This is the big plot twist in the Book Of Huong.  I have taken a U-TURN because once upon a time as a child I did believe in trusting something bigger than me.