What We Carry: Messages From Canada

The Canadian Flag
Banff National Park, Alberta, CA

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is trying to tell you something? Maybe it’s the voice of the universe; maybe God is trying to get your attention, or maybe it’s just a shout from the wee small voice inside yourself trying to wake you up. The message is right there in front of you, staring you in the face, but you totally miss it. You don’t see it, understand it, or recognize its significance until finally, like a smack to the forehead…you suddenly get it, and it seems so obvious you wonder how you didn’t see it in the first place.

Let me tell you about the recent tap on the noggin I received from Canada.


Crossing Into Canada
Port Huron to Sarnia…Michigan to Ontario
photographer unknown

Crossing the Bluewater Bridge from Michigan into Ontario, I chose the shortest lane for customs and immigration, eased my car into the line, and waited for my turn.  Moments later, I politely handed my passport to the official and answered all the necessary questions.

“Have a safe trip,” he said with a smile, as he returned my document.

“Thank you, “ I replied. With a lump in my throat, but without much thought or hesitation, I added, “And…I’m sorry about Donald Trump.”

“Oh,” he responded in a sympathetic tone.  “We know who’s to blame. We know it’s not you. That is not your burden to bear. Put it down. Don’t carry that.  It’s not yours.”

As I pulled away from the booth, unbidden tears began to stream down my cheeks. I was touched by the kindness of this stranger who could obviously feel my pain.  In our brief interaction, in very few words, he had done what he could to lift the guilt I was carrying from my shoulders, giving me the peace and courage to carry on.  

I believe that everyone we meet is bearing something. We just don’t know what the person beside us is carrying. Sometimes what we are schlepping around fits easily into a tiny, nylon, nano bag; at other times, we could stuff an 80-pound backpack. Sometimes, we are dragging so much through life that we need a full-blown steamer trunk. The problems, worries, and burdens are uniquely our own, often weighing us down, at times making it difficult to go forward…or…even move at all.


Some months later, on a trip to the Canadian Rockies, I arrived in Calgary a day and a half before the rest of the tour group. I had plenty of time to wander the city exploring on my own. I found myself in the new library… a truly amazing space, by the way…where I came upon an interactive art display. It was a large white bird nearly as big as me, with outstretched wings sculpted from bent wire. Next to the framework was a table with pencils and slips of paper bearing the outline of a feather. The instructions read: These feathers are for the public to leave affirmations or positive thoughts and encouragement for the community.

“Eagle Sculpture 2026″…Darren Weaslechild…Indigenous Artist in Residence

I approached the sculpture intending to read what people had left for others to discover. As I got closer, a single paper feather fell from the bird and landed at my feet. As I collected the slip from the floor, I was astonished by what I read. How did someone I’ll never meet know just what I needed to read, and of all the paper feathers, why did this particular one fall at the very moment I approached? Serendipity…the universe..a message from above? Written boldly in pencil, a combination of print and cursive were these words: Ask yourself if what weighs you down is your to carry. OX.

A Personal Message from The Universe
Calgary Library… Calgary, Alberta, CA

Was I being weighed down by things that weren’t really mine to carry? Did I really have to concern myself with everything? All the time? I’ve been struggling like so many these days; I am feeling the oppression of the world in addition to the personal struggles of self and family. That simple paper feather prompted me to pay attention and take a hard look. Was it really necessary for me to carry such burdens? If indeed it turned out that they were mine, was I required to shoulder them constantly? Do you suppose someone could help me lift some of the heaviest ones? To give myself time to rest and regroup, could I simply put them down and walk away for a while?


The next morning, I took an Uber across town to the UU church. It was one of those Sundays when I knew I was right where I was supposed to be. The pulpit was filled by a First Nations Elder. Her words and singing touched my heart. So when it was time to light candles or place stones in the bowl for joys and concerns, I comfortably joined the others and offered my prayers alongside theirs. To conclude this part of the service, rather than “Spirit of Life,” which is usually the go-to song with UUs, the words of a song that I didn’t yet know were projected on the wall.

Loosen, Loosen, Baby.  
You don't have to carry the weight of the world in your muscles and bones.
Let go. Let go. Let go.
Holy breath and Holy name
Will you help me ease this pain?

It certainly seemed that I was being sent a message from somebody.


I was so tired when I arrived in Vermont after my adventures in Canada; it was midnight. Two days before the end of the trip, my wallet had been stolen or, more probably, lost. I no longer had a credit card and was concerned about how I’d be able to free my car from the parking garage. I spent several minutes sorting out how to pay for parking with cash. Pretty easy as it turned out, but when I went to the luggage carousel, all the bags had arrived…alas…mine was not there. There was a suitcase similar to mine…but…it wasn’t mine.

It was then that I noticed an older woman sitting with what looked a lot like my bag.

“Excuse me, “ I said. “I think you might have my bag.”

“Oh, no,” she replied confidently. “My husband just brought this to me. It’s my bag.”

“Would you mind if we unzipped one of the pockets to check?”

“Sure. That’s fine,” she responded as she began to open the pocket.

“See,” she said. “There are my shoes.”

With only the soles of the shoes visible, I was fairly certain that those worn out tennies were mine.

“Em, I think those are my shoes. Let’s open another pocket.”

We slid the zipper over, revealing my medicine case and my socks.  “See, this is my bag. I think yours is over there on the carousel.”

“Well,” she said, “That one looks…kinda beat up.”

“I’m sorry, but that one’s yours.”

Be Sure It’s Yours
You Can Always Just Let it Circle the Carousel
Photo by Dimitri Karastelev on Unsplash

So…ask yourself whether what weighs you down really is yours to carry, or if you can just leave it circling the carousel as you exit the terminal. On the other hand…sometimes…whether we like it or not…we have to face the fact that, beat-up or not, that baggage is ours.

Originally part of an evening chapel service on Star Island.

Footprints on Our Hearts:

From the Back Deck Montpelier, VT
October 2022

Autumn Leaves on the Forest Floor
October 2020
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them

And we help them in return.

"For Good" from Wicked

I didn’t hear his car drive up, but I watched from my kitchen window as he walked across the driveway toward my tiny condo, with an air of casual confidence.

He was of medium build, clad in blue jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was pulled back neatly and secured at the nape of his neck in a short ponytail, accentuating his beautifully lush, carefully trimmed, salt and pepper beard. As I opened the door, he greeted me with sparkling eyes, a warm, pleasant smile, and a confident, friendly manner that instantly put me at ease.

He was a good-looking man…charming, funny, and interesting. It was easy to be attracted to him, but…for God’s sake, he was my electrician and I was his client. At the recommendation of our local electrical supply store, “Call him first. He’s a really nice guy,” he had literally come to light up my life by adding two new overhead lights. At the time, I had no idea that he would bring more light than just that in the ceiling.

Fallen Leaves in the Sunshine
AI Generated
Yellow Leaves on the Path
Sylvan Solace 2020



 And now, whatever way our stories end
I know you have rewritten mine
By being my friend
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But
Because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good.

"For Good," from Wicked

Maple Leaves
Sylvan Solace 2020
Reminder: 
You're not done meeting everyone
who's going to matter to you.
Some of the best moments of your life haven't happened yet.


Sara Kuburic

Gotta Please Yourself

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I cheated on a college exam in 1971. I didn’t trust my response, and my best friend’s paper was right there. I mean, it was right there…so I took a peek.  When I saw her solution, assuming that she was more intelligent than I was and knew more than I did, I changed my answer. Consequently, we both had the wrong answer, and my original conclusion had been correct all along. I am sorry for this and all of my sins.”

“Well, replied my imaginary vicar in his most understanding and priestly voice, “If it still haunts you after all this time, I doubt you repeated the offense. Hopefully, by now you’ve learned to trust yourself and have faith in what you know.  Now, say three Hail Marys, one Our Father, and throw in a couple Glory Be’s just to be on the safe side. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.  By the way, aren’t you a Unitarian?”

“Well…Thank you for the blessing. Thanks for listening…and well…yes, I am a proud UU, but wait…what about the anonymity of the confessional? How do you know who I am?”

“Think about it, my dear, I’m your personal imaginary priest, existing only in your mind, so, of course, I know who you are.  By the way…you could have been a little more progressive and made me a woman, a UU minister, or a Lay Pastoral caregiver, or better yet…a wise grandmotherly type. You know…a sage or a crone… but then…I imagine you wanted to keep that bit about the confessional.”

“Yes…Father, even as a UU, I appreciate the comfort of the confessional. You know what they say…confession is good for the soul. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll skip the Hail Marys and throw in a few Mary Olivers instead. I’ll see what I can do about the rest. Those Glory Be’s might be a stretch for a Unitarian.”

‘Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God that is inside each of us.’

Mary Oliver

“Wait, before you go and send me off into the ether of your imagination, let me remind you that even if you don’t realize or recognize it, you really are a unique and wonderful being.  There’s no need to make yourself in the image of anyone else.  Learn from others, but don’t try to be them. After all, you can’t make cantaloupe taste like strawberries, and why would you want to, they’re both so great as they are.  On the other hand, you can make grapes taste like cotton candy, so maybe that’s not a great analogy.  My point is, even with all your perceived faults and failings…you are here at this time and in this space, and the world needs you to be you. 

Now, go and sin no more…but…if you must…which let’s face it is pretty inevitable…think of something more imaginative and fun than this not having faith in yourself thing. Keep life interesting. I’m sure you’ll think of something…you always do.”

But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see, you can't please everyone
So you got to please yourself

...Rick Nelson, Garden Party

My lifelong insecurity and lack of self-confidence have shaped how I live, how I think, and the choices I’ve made. Maybe now, as a senior citizen, it’s time that I reframe and change some of my thinking. The only time it’s too late to change course is when you’re going over the falls…and… then…it actually is too late.  On the other hand…aren’t there deathbed confessions and foxhole conversions? And in the movies, at least, you can pop up like a cork in the water at the bottom of the falls and journey on…wet and choking on water…but… still moving nevertheless.

In the past few months, I have joined two different groups…a writing workshop sponsored by our local Senior Center and a group of photographer friends that I know from my summers on Star Island off the coast of New Hampshire. It is my membership in these two cohorts that has prompted my recent self-reflection. Both groups deal with different but related art forms, yet our gatherings are surprisingly similar. Each group provides room for each member to share what we’ve written or what we’ve captured with our lenses since the previous meeting, then we receive gentle, supportive feedback from our peers and instructor.  It’s a process that is both terrifying and exhilarating. By sharing what we’ve created…what we’ve thought or seen… we are taking a risk.  When we pull back the curtain, we are revealing a part of ourselves…often a very personal, tender part of our deepest, truest selves, we are trusting that the gifts we offer will be received by friendly hands who will hold, protect, and cradle them…carefully, lovingly, and protectively. The kindness and support that we offer one another are at times almost palpable. We empathize with each presenter because we have stood in their shoes.

Yes, terrifying and exhilarating indeed. For me, however, that’s the easy part.

“Geesh,”…my imaginary priest, has emerged again…” If that’s the case, why do you do it?”

“Sometimes, I ask myself that very question.”

Being in the company of such talented writers and photographers helps me to grow and learn. I used to be jealous of the great shot that others captured but I missed, or a paragraph full of figurative language and evocative vocabulary that I wish I had conceived. Fortunately, I have since evolved to find joy and delight in seeing the world through other eyes. I can truly appreciate what they see or what they write without envy or covetousness.

The difficulty for me comes when I compare how I write or what I see, frame, click, and edit to what others imagine and create. In my mind, I never seem to measure up, so I often find myself emulating and experimenting with their style or process.

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

– Sylvia Plath

This morning, I reserved tickets at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. During his lifetime, this well-known Dutch painter completed at least 900 canvases. Someone did the math and concluded that during the time he was actively working, he would have produced a new painting every 36 hours. Yet, during his lifetime, his style of painting was not appreciated. He sold just a single painting. Today, his works range in price from millions to tens of millions to hundreds of millions of dollars. Vincent’s untimely death is still debated. Whether it was suicide or accidental remains a mystery. He undoubtedly had a troubled life…but continued to paint nevertheless…899 unsold canvases. He observed his contemporaries and experimented with their approaches and techniques, but his beautiful, unique style could not be denied. His vision remains.

Three Hundred meters west of the Van Gogh museum, the imposing Rijksmuseum is hosting the largest exhibit ever assembled of the works of another Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer. Vermeer enjoyed modest success, primarily within the confines of the small city of Delft, while he lived in the 1600s. Although never completely forgotten, he was overshadowed by the bigger rock stars of the day. It wasn’t until the mid-1800s…centuries later… that his genius was really recognized and appreciated. Today, only thirty-six known oil paintings remain, and yet, for an opportunity to see them, tickets must be purchased months in advance and are already selling out.

Perhaps as I stand before the canvases created by these two different Dutchmen from two different times and with two very distinctive styles and visions, I’ll remember the example they provide me across the centuries. Just be who you are. Find joy in what you do and simply please yourself.

“Creativity is inventing, experimenting, growing, taking risks, breaking rules, making mistakes, and having fun.”

Mary Lou Cook

“Oh! Thank God!,” exclaims my nearly forgotten cleric. “You’re finally getting it, and I can shed this scratchy robe and ditch this incredibly small booth you imagined me into. You couldn’t have conjured a comfortably clad monk on a sunny mountaintop? Oh, right…your fear of heights. Sorry. Well…It’s going to take you a while to completely adapt to this new attitude, and you’ll need practice, but you’re on the right track. Does it really matter if people are inspired by what you write or look with awe at your images? Without a doubt, that would be nice, but…come on, just be you. That’s more than enough. Just being who you are is the only thing the universe actually demands.

“As for me,” he concludes. “I say…Amen, Blessed Be, Peace out, and Rock on!”

Steeples, Chimneys, and the State House Golden Dome
Montpelier, Vermont 2022