Authentic and Real

Cover of Colour, Moving and Still

I have a few favourite people in my world, lots of crushes (don't get me started about that Hawaii 5-0 dude..) When I fall in love with music, I usually am a fan for life, making a point to see the person in concert any time I can. I have seen Chantal Kreviazuk in concert a few times. She picks some wicked opening acts, I credit her with introducing me to Jorain and my beloved Jason Mraz. When I learned that Chantal was going to visit Ontario Shores, give a talk and play some music, I was so there. I love her music, she touches me, she has seen me through some serious dark days. She spoke about her connection to mental illness; a friend and family member suffering and how their suffering has shaped her life and music. It was touching and human, honest and real. Who amongst us has never been touched by mental illness, whether it be your own or someone you are close to? I suspect we all have.

It was fascinating to hear the reality behind a few of her songs. After she sang for us, she reviewed the song, replayed bits and its meaning.

For me, the death of my son nearly killed me. Therapy and a bit of drugs saved my life. But so did music. Chantal's music. Her album, Colour Moving and Still, helped me to find the sunlight and joy in life. She helped and will never know it. I must have listened to it so many times that if it was not a CD, but a record, surely the groves would have been worn out.

Her message was to remove the stigma of mental illness, blow the doors wide open and be open and honest about the suffering and mental health impacts on family friends and the individual suffering.  For Chantal, music is her outlet, her cathartic process.  I am sure she must realize that her often raw, honest lyrics offer the same cathartic process for her listeners who love her.

Doing Nothing

Long weekends terrify me. I have a zillion things to do, clean the house,wash my car, wash Ian's car, but the gardens to bed, spend time with the family; oh and then there is the looming 'holiday'dinner. What to do? It all depends on the weather. Thanksgiving weekends are a crap shoot, some times it is cold, damp and windy and then sometimes you are surprised you get the last kiss of summer. The weekend that just ended, was a full on, lushious tongue kiss of a long weekend. Something to be thankful for. Its memory will hold me though to the first dusting of snow.

This thanksgiving was a quiet one and we had obligations only demanded of us by us. My awesome writer husband went to a writers circle and came home energized and excited about his craft. He is a far better writer than I will ever even aspire to be. I know I will someday soon refer to Ian as my author, journalist, writer husband. Give it a year. You will see.

With Ian out at his event, the kids and I went with my mom to Watsons for annual apple picking. What fun. Bronwyn was even well behaved. The kids get to be in the sun, the fields and there wasnt a clock in sight. It was magical.

So was the par for the course all weekend long. We did a whole bunch of nothing, spending time washing the cars, a tiny bit of cleaning the house, some gardening but mostly the easy, long weekend kind of doing nothing that makes memories layered in the last bits of sun, nowhere special to go and lots of tme to hang out together doing nothing. It was magical.