Category: learning

When life changes the story you thought you were writing…blog 147

A Probe & Ponder Newsletter…July Issue

Exploring books, learning, travel, life experiences & adventure with author, Roberta E Sawatzky

Welcome to Issue #5 of my newsletter (AKA blog)

If you’re someone who’s curious, courageous, and eager to grow through fresh ideas, practical writing tips, thoughtful prompts, and real-life reflections, you’re in the right place. Here, I share my ponderings and discoveries with a community of readers and writers who’ve connected with me through my books—and who love exploring how writing shapes the way we learn, create, and experience life. Let’s dive in together.

To learn how/where to order my books, click here.

I would REALLY appreciate your posting a review on Amazon or Good Reads if you read either of the books.

What am I up to?

Thinking a lot about turning life’s disruptions and losses into honest words.

Sometimes life hands you a story before you are ready to call it one. At first, it may look like a cancelled flight, a closed road, a diagnosis, a goodbye, a box of belongings, or a plan that suddenly no longer fits. In the moment, you are not thinking about craft or character or theme. You are simply trying to get through what has changed.

But writers have a particular way of returning to moments like these. We circle back, sometimes much later, and begin to ask what was really happening beneath the surface. A change we did not ask for might reveal character. A detour might expose longing. A disruption might uncover humour, grief, resilience, confusion, or a truth we did not know we were carrying.

I want to be careful here. Not every change leads to a better outcome. Some changes are heartbreaking. The death of a spouse, the loss of a child, the end of a relationship, a serious diagnosis, the loss of work, home, or community—these are not detours we neatly reframe as blessings. They are losses. They deserve tenderness, honesty, and time. Writing does not have to make the change good. It does not have to explain it away or tie it up with a bow. Sometimes writing simply gives us a place to tell the truth about what happened, what was taken, what remains, and how we are learning to carry it.

Thinking back…

Many years ago, when our children were much younger, we set out on a family trip to Disneyworld. We were travelling from British Columbia, my brother’s family was travelling from Ontario, and we were all looking forward to being together in the Florida sun. Everything was packed. We boarded the plane. We were ready. Until Hurricane Gordon changed the story.

AI generated
AI generated

Instead of landing in Florida, we found ourselves stranded overnight in Denver, Colorado. We were dressed for warmth and sunshine—shorts, t-shirts, sandals, light jackets—and had no access to our checked luggage. The excitement drained quickly. We were tired, underdressed, disappointed, and very aware that none of this had been in our control.

Then another memory surfaced. Years earlier, while travelling with a singing group, I had celebrated my nineteenth birthday in Denver and had been introduced to Casa Bonita—a wonderfully over-the-top Mexican restaurant complete with food, cliff divers, music, caves, and sopapillas waiting for honey. I had nearly forgotten it. My husband had not.

Before long, we left the hotel, tiptoed through the snow in our sandals, climbed into a taxi, and headed toward a memory I had not expected to share with my family. Was it exactly as I remembered? Not quite. Was it cornier than my nineteen-year-old self had noticed? Absolutely. But it became part of our family story. The trip had not gone according to plan, yet the interruption offered something unexpected: a chance to connect my former life with my present one.

That is one of the gifts of writing. We can return to an experience and ask different questions of it. Not only, “What happened?” but “What did this change in me?” “What did I resist?” “What still hurts?” “What surprised me?” “What detail has stayed with me?”

The gift of writing…

Whether you are new to writing or have been writing for years, your life is already full of beginnings, turning points, detours, ruptures, and unresolved middles. Some changes arrive gently. Others barge in uninvited. Some are chosen; others are forced upon us. Some bring opportunity. Others bring sorrow. Either way, they leave us with something to notice, name, and perhaps one day write.

AI generated
AI generated

For me, journalling is often the first place the truth begins to loosen. I can write without polishing, explaining, or deciding what the experience means. I can simply tell the page what happened, what I felt, what I resisted, and what I am still trying to understand. That may be where writing begins for you, too. Or perhaps your path is a blog post, where your experience might offer companionship to someone standing in a similar place. Or maybe it becomes a short story, where you give the change to a character and see what they do with it. Each form gives the experience a different kind of room.

Think about..

  • Recall a change you did not welcome. What did it disrupt, reveal, or ask of you?
  • Ponder the physical details of the moment: weather, clothing, sounds, smells, objects, body language.
  • If there was a turning point, where did it happen? If there was not, what remains unresolved?
  • Consider what the experience still needs from you: attention, compassion, distance, imagination, or simply silence for now.

Not every disruption becomes a neat lesson, and not every change needs to be redeemed. But when you are ready, writing can help you look again. It can help you notice the cliff divers in the middle of the snowstorm, the humour tucked inside the inconvenience, or the ache that still deserves language.

So, what change in your life is asking—not demanding, just quietly asking—to be written?

A practical first step (a writing prompt):

Choose one change—large or small, welcome or unwelcome—and give yourself ten quiet minutes to write about it. Don’t worry yet about making it polished, profound, or publishable. Begin with one honest sentence: This is what changed. Then see where the writing takes you.

Books…

I usually have a few books on the go at once: an audiobook for listening on the move, a memoir or life story for the pleasure of stepping into someone else’s experience, and a book that helps me think, reflect, and grow.

Audiobook (I love Libby!): I love the writing of C.J. Archer. Her stories, often set around 1890, draw me into a richly imagined version of old England, complete with class systems, atmosphere, and memorable recurring characters. Archer has a gift for painting a scene with words and making the reader feel invited into the world she has created. The books I have been listening to are murder mysteries, but what keeps me coming back is the warmth and development of the characters.

Growth book: How to Live a Meaningful Life Using Design Thinking by Bill Burnett and Dave Evans

Here is a quote from the book that stayed with me: “…you can’t be fulfilled (i.e. have every aspect of your personhood fully expressed and appreciated, because you are too big to fit into a single lifetime). However, you can be fully alive, which mean completely present for and fully experiencing the life you are in right now.”

Life story: Queen of the Mist by Caroline Cauchi. I am still reading, but so far it is engaging and has the kind of narrative pull that makes me want to keep turning the pages.

Podcasts…

I listened to a great podcast this past week. It was the April 13th episode on The Written Word Podcast titled “From Page to Stage with Jess Ekstrom: How to Get Paid as an Author Speaker.” As someone who loves speaking and presenting in all contexts, I found this a wonderful encouragement to consider speaking as an additional income stream to writing and selling books. In fact, it is actually a wonderful marketing tool for selling books. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.

The second podcast to recommend comes from The Write Place, release date April 17th. This podcast is called “From Traditional to Self-Publishing: Nikki Moore on Becoming a Hybrid Author”. Niki has published for years with HarperCollin, and decided to “take the leap into self-publishing” with her new novel Magical Beginnings in Little Bowbrook.

A third I’d like to share is from the Fully Booked Ep 139: The Reality of Selling Your Books Directly. They come from the premise, “…instead of having your book on Amazon and you advertise your book and send people to Amazon, you host it on your own website.” An interesting listen.

Some final words…

C. Joy Bell C.

“We can’t be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there’s such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don’t have something better.”

When writing goes quiet ~ blog 146

A Probe & Ponder Newsletter…March Issue

Exploring books, learning, travel, life experiences & adventure with author, Roberta E Sawatzky

Welcome to Issue #4 of my newsletter!

If you’re someone who’s curious, courageous, and eager to grow through fresh ideas, practical writing tips, thoughtful prompts, and real-life reflections, you’re in the right place. Here, I share my ponderings and discoveries with a community of readers and writers who’ve connected with me through my books—and who love exploring how writing shapes the way we learn, create, and experience life. Let’s dive in together.

To learn how/where to order my books, click here.

This season has changed the way my attention works.

Grief has a way of narrowing the field, of quieting what once felt urgent, of asking different questions altogether. I haven’t stopped writing—but the writing has slowed, deepened, and turned inward in ways I didn’t anticipate. (summarized from various readings)

What am I up to?

There are seasons when writing feels like movement, with pages accumulating, ideas connecting, momentum building.

And then there are seasons like this one. I’ve been asked, gently and often, how the writing is going. I understand the question. I’ve asked it of others myself. But the answer doesn’t land easily these days, because it isn’t really about productivity or progress.

It’s about presence.

This season has changed the way my attention works. Grief has a way of narrowing the field, of quieting what once felt urgent, of asking different questions altogether. I haven’t stopped writing—but the writing has slowed, deepened, and turned inward in ways I didn’t anticipate. For a while, I told myself I was stuck.

Now I see something else. A familiar space, entered again.

When I look back on my two books, I see a thread that has been weaving quietly for years.

What If…? was born in a season of uncertainty…traveling with obstacles, living alongside illness, choosing curiosity when circumstances refused to cooperate. That book asked a brave, outward‑facing question: What if we go anyway?

Between Here and Where came from a different place. It lingered in the space of transition, change that is forced or chosen, the loneliness of thresholds, the grief that accompanies becoming someone new. It wasn’t about answers so much as about staying present in the in‑between.

What I’m living now is not separate from that work. It is its continuation.

The difference is that this time, the transition has taken my husband with it.

This season doesn’t respond well to pressure. The kind of writing it allows is not linear or ambitious. It arrives in fragments, in memories, sensations, and half‑formed sentences that don’t yet know where they belong.

Some days, writing looks like a single paragraph. Some days, it’s a page I don’t keep. Some days, it’s simply sitting long enough for something true to surface. From the outside, this can look like avoidance. Like a lack of motivation. Like a creative block that needs fixing.

From the inside, it feels like listening.

I used to believe deep writing meant digging harder, about producing more, pushing through resistance. Now I’m learning that deep writing sometimes means staying exactly where you are, without rushing the process, trusting that silence is not empty but active.

The Work of the In‑Between

In my second book, I wrote about the ‘between’, that space where clarity is suspended and identity is quietly reshaped. I described it as painful, lonely, often joyful, and yet necessary.

I didn’t know then how fully I would come to inhabit that definition again. You see, grief rearranges attention. It changes what matters, how time feels, and what the body can hold. The work of this season is not to arrive somewhere quickly, but to remain honest while something new takes shape.

I think that honesty matters more to me now than momentum.

If you’re reading this and finding yourself in a similar place—unmotivated, unfocused, unsure what happened to the version of you who once thought and created with a certain degree of ease, here’s what I’m reminding myself:

I’m not behind. I’m not broken. I’m not failing my work.

Some seasons are meant for asking What if? Some are meant for waiting between here and where. And some seasons ask us simply to be present, to listen, to trust that what feels quiet now is still part of the story.

Books & Podcasts

Podcast:

Are you concerned about the use of AI in your writing? What’s the difference between AI assist and AI generated? I found this podcast episode to be quite helpful in understanding the proper role of AI in our writing. The Podcast is “Fiction Writing made easy”, and the episode I am referring to is #236, entitled “The truth about AI and creative writing”. Listen along as host Savannah Gilbo interviews Ana Del Valle, award-winning novelist, technologist, and founder of the AI Creative Writing Academy.

Here are some valuable thoughts from the interview:

“AI Generation is when you’re essentially asking AI to write the book for you. You hand it an idea, it drafts scenes and chapters, and before long, ChatGPT is doing all the heavy lifting while you’re just reviewing and tweaking.”

“AI Assist is something completely different.” Ana describes it as “using AI throughout the entire life cycle of writing your novel, but you are always the one in the driver’s seat. You might use it to brainstorm subplots, test your story’s structure, explore character motivations, or use it as a kind of developmental editor that gives you feedback. The AI is never writing the story. You are.”

Books:

I’m still making my way through “Living the Artist’s Way: An Intuitive Path to Greater Creativity”. The book focuses on what author Julia Cameron calls the ‘fourth essential tool of writing’. If you have read any of her books, you’ll know those tools are: morning pages, artist dates, walks, and the 4th, writing for guidance. As with her former books, Cameron lays out Living the Artist’s Way like a six-week course, each week having an action step. My approach to the book is to read it through, then go back and practice the weekly lessons. I like knowing where I’m heading with a book like this. In the next newsletter I should have read the book, and if so inspired, have started the suggested exercises. Stay tuned.

St. Emillion in France…a recent visit while presenting at an International Business Week. One feels inspired just walking the streets while being drawn into it’s history. (This is the village where the macaron originated.)

Tips for giving yourself a break…

Shift Your Perspective on “Productivity”: In my previous blog, I mentioned Karen Wyatt’s insight about writing as a tool for dealing with change. When you’re grieving or stuck, your “logic brain” often takes over, trying to force a result.

The Fix: Stop trying to write the next book for a moment. Instead, use your daily journaling to “witness your own grief” or lack of motivation without judging it. As Julia Cameron suggests in The Right to Write, view writing as a conversation, not a performance.

Lower the Stakes: The pressure of the “first word on the page” for a new book can be paralyzing, especially since if your previous writings came with clarity.

The Fix: Try the “Question Method” referred to in my previous blog. End every writing session (be it a chapter, paragraph or journal) with a single question for tomorrow. This bypasses the “blank page syndrome” because you aren’t starting a book; you’re just answering a question.

Change Your Sensory Environment: Sometimes the “stuck” feeling is physical.

The Fix: If your usual writing spot feels heavy, move. Go to a library, a park, or even just a different chair. For me, I enjoy going to a local cafe where the people ‘buzz’ gently seeps through my ear buds and creates a soothing environment.

Lean into the “Waves”: My most realistic saying… “Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves.” Creativity is exactly the same.

The Fix: Accept that this is an “ebb” tide. Instead of fighting the low motivation, use this time for “Creative Refilling.”

Writing Prompts (pictures from travels):

How might a statue (Le Pouch, in Paris), a broken suitcase, or a plate of deliciousness help you express how you feel?

“And slowly, I understood—
even if grief someday grows quieter,
the love behind it will never leave.
Because you are still gone,
and part of me will always miss you.
But sitting with grief?
It’s how I honor what was real. –

Author unknown

My books: For ordering and book information visit my website.

What If…? Finding new adventures through life’s obstacles

Between Here and Where? Embracing life’s transitions.

Writing through grief ~ blog 145

A Probe & Ponder Newsletter…February Issue

Exploring books, learning, travel, life experiences & adventure with author, Roberta E Sawatzky

Welcome to Issue #3 of my newsletter!

If you’re someone who’s curious, courageous, and eager to grow through fresh ideas, practical writing tips, thoughtful prompts, and real-life reflections, you’re in the right place. Here, I share my ponderings and discoveries with a community of readers and writers who’ve connected with me through my books—and who love exploring how writing shapes the way we learn, create, and experience life. Let’s dive in together.

“One of the things I love about writing is it’s a place you can witness your own grief.”
—David Kessler

What am I up to?

It’s amazing how life can change in a moment. From reading my books, you will know that my husband of 47 years had been dependant on kidney dialysis for the past five years. This, combined with lymphoma offered many life challenges. However, because of his amazing and positive attidude, combined with my determination, we enjoyed much travel and adventure until travel became medically impossible for him. On January 7, his body finally had enough and my husband passed away. His final days were surrounded with family and friends, as together we expressed our love for Rob and for each other.

My writing has taken on a new focus for now. Actually not new, just more intentional. You see throughout our lives, Rob and I talked about everything; we texted or called each other often throughout the day, talked about the joys and challenges each of us was facing, and shared our dreams for the future (mostly as we walked or biked to our favourite coffee shops). We shared our lives while still honouring each other’s space. You can imagine the impact when this connection is no longer possible. At least not the way it had been.

I have been a journaler for quite a few years, more so in the past five years since his original diagnosis. The jouralling was a record of my own reflections on life. However, my journal entries are now written to Rob. It’s not the rich two-way conversation we so enjoyed, but it is a way for me to share my struggles, my grief and pain over his passing. It also allows me to tell him about what I’m reflecting on and how I want to live my life in a way that honours him.

Travel has always been one of the great shared joys of our life together. It was important to Rob that I continue exploring the world, even after him. Still, it feels almost impossible to imagine travelling without him by my side.

Recently, while listening to a podcast interview with Mary-Frances O’Connor, author of The Grieving Body, I heard words that settled gently into my heart:

“I’m going to do these things because you can’t. I’m going to do them through a body and eyes that were shaped by you so that you can come along with me.”

That is how I want to travel now. Not away from him, but with him — through the ways he shaped how I see, notice, and cherish the world. And each evening, before I turn off the light, I will continue filling the pages of my leather journals with all the things I get to do because my life was shaped by his love.

Books & Podcasts

Podcast:

A podcast I continue learning from is The Creative Penn with author Joanna Penn. This specific interview is with physician and author Karen Wyatt as they discuss Writing as a Tool for Grief and Dealing with Change. Throughout the discussion they talk about different types of grief we experience, addressing topics like: why write about grief and end of life; using writing to deal with the complex emotions around grief; and transforming personal writing into publication. Wyatt also shares how journalling her thoughts during a time of grieving helped her get out of her logic brain and awaken the creative side of the brain. Wyatt shares,

“When that switch started happening, I was able to begin moving into a more productive aspect of working through my grief; I was really able to start processing it better and get past all these ruminating thoughts that came over and over again.”

I’m sure you’ll find the episode inspiring, no matter what kind of loss you may be experiencing

Books:

As I listened to the podcast with Karen Wyatt, I was reminded about author Julia Cameron. One of her books I thoroughly enjoyed was “The Right to Write: an invitiation and initiation into the writing life.” I read it early in my writing experience and have begun to reread it. One of the thoughts expressed in the book spoke to me as I continue to engage in journalling,

“I do not experience writing as a monologue. I experience it as a conversation. Writing raises questions “I” hadn’t thought of. Writing offers “me” a different perspective, a different and more engaging way to look at things.”

By the way, I just ordered her latest book, released in 2024, called “Living the Artist’s Way: An Intuitive Path to Greater Creativity”. In my next newsletter I’ll let you know my thougths on it.

Where my deepest thoughts happen…

Tips for Writing Through Your Grief

(all from a great article in Psychology Today)

  1. Identify a set time of day to write, and put it in your calendar as you would any other appointment.
  2. Get a beautiful journal if you write with pen and paper. Make some tea, light a candle, snuggle under a cozy blanket…whatever you need to create an inviting space.
  3. Don’t be judgy. Write what you feel. Remember that nobody else will see what you write unless you want them to.
  4. Enlist a writing buddy. If going solo doesn’t work for you, invite a friend and hold each other accountable.
  5. End each writing session with a question you’re going to respond to on the next go-round. That way you’re never faced with a blank page.

Writing Prompts (pictures from travels):

Think about how each of these picture prompts might inspire you to complete the sentence: “Grief is like…”

    Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” – Vicki Harrison

    My books: For ordering and book information visit my website.

    What If…? Finding new adventures through life’s obstacles

    Between Here and Where? Embracing life’s transitions.

    Welcome to a new year with Probe and Ponder…Blog 141

    January 2025…how has the year started for you? Slow and steady? Like a whirlwind? Full of expectancy? Waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop? Are you excited about new beginnings? None of these outlooks are right or wrong…they just are. And that’s ok.

    Mine started rather quietly – we slipped into 2025 without much fanfare. Like many people at certain stages of life, we were already in dreamland by the time the clock struck midnight!

    That was until January 3rd. 

    I love to smile, but recently I have been conscious of people’s reactions when they see a gap where until that day, a tooth lived. It happened like this:

    I was meeting with a close friend, enjoying a great cup of coffee and a soft veggie wrap. We were laughing together, catching up on each other’s lives, and about to begin talking about a second walk together on the Camino de Santiago, when I felt the strangest thing…there was a hole where a front tooth used to be! My tongue explored it, my finger found the hole, and a selfie confirmed what I feared…I had lost a tooth. It split up the middle and was gone! I truly did lose it—it wasn’t in my mouth, nor was it stuck in the wrap…it was gone. Well, not completely lost, I had swallowed it!

    As you can read in my memoir, life is not exactly stress-free when one’s husband has some major medical issues. So when this happened, I looked at my friend, recognizing my shock reflected in her face, and we both laughed! What else could we do? I immediately reached out to our dental office and shared my story of woe, and the receptionist laughed as well! Realizing her reaction may not have been overly empathetic, she quickly apologized. 

    Within an hour I was sitting in the dental chair having x-rays taken, then setting up an appointment with my dentist for the following week (of course it happened on a day when the dentist wasn’t working!). Thus began the long process of having a tooth implanted by a dental surgeon…but first the remainder of my broken tooth needs to be removed. (There are many things I would rather do than visit the dentist…for any reason!)

    So here was the dilemma I now faced. I was booked to be interviewed on a podcast (video, not audio), and present an Author Meet at our local library. I am also in the process of recording an audiobook. Do you know how difficult it is to pronounce ‘th’ and ‘f’ sounds when you are missing a front tooth? The recording mic is so sensitive the production guy could hear a plane passing overhead, a sound I couldn’t even hear! 

    What to do? We were able to adjust the mic far enough from my mouth so as not to have the offending sounds pop the mic…one problem solved. But what about the podcast? If you have spent any time on virtual calls, you know how distracting it is to see your face on a screen just inches away. It can be disconcerting to say the least. Add to that the insult of seeing a very visible gap anytime you smile, multiplying the distraction. So the podcast appearance was cancelled. 

    But what about the Author Meet? I seriously considered cancelling it as well, until I was hit with one of those epiphany experiences. That quiet inner voice reminded me that I had committed to be open and transparent both in my writing and in life in general. Having a tooth fall out is just part of life (at least my life). 

    So here I am, missing tooth and all, ready to take on 2025. I look forward to openly and transparently sharing my probings and ponderings with you. Please stay tuned as I continue sharing my learnings from life and travel with you. Who knows what’s next? 

    By the way, if you ever want to reach out for coaching, speaking events, or simply to say ‘hi’, here are my contacts:

    roberta@samisremote.com | resawatzky.com | robertasawatzky.com | https://calendly.com/roberta20/complimentary-chat

    As 2024 comes to an end…Blog 140

    I’m sitting in my home office, gazing out at a very gray day. We had snow last evening, but mild temperatures and light rain have turned the fresh blanket of snow into a dull, mushy mess.

    Winter isn’t my favorite season—my soul seems to hibernate, awaiting the awakening signaled by the first buds of spring appearing on the trees outside my window. These buds signal new life.

    In summer, we slow down to soak up the sun’s warmth, shedding cumbersome jackets, socks, and ‘whole shoes’ (as our daughter used to call them) to make way for sandals, sundresses, t-shirts, and the ever-present sunnies. At times, the sun’s heat becomes oppressive, prompting us to seek the perfect shade under which to sip a cool beverage, dreaming of storing this glorious heat to be slowly released during the cold, frigid winter months.

    Then autumn arrives. How I love this season! The summer heat fades, leaving warm days and nights that call for the cozy embrace of light sweaters to fend off the evening chill. The greens of summer transform into vibrant reds, ambers, and crimson leaves, drawing me in like the crackling flames of the fires my mum used to set in the evenings back in Ireland.

    However, without the winter months that prompt us to hunker down and reflect on the gifts of new life, warmth, and harvest, we might miss the lessons nature offers.

    I believe the four seasons—winter, spring, summer, and autumn—are a rich metaphor for life, especially when we consider the changes each one brings. Over the past year, I’ve been working on a book about change and transition. Initially, its focus was on transitioning from full-time employment to part-time, contract work. This transition would bridge the years between the workforce and possibly leaving paid employment altogether. As I wrote, I realized that life is, and will continue to be, filled with various transitions, each with its own intensity. This process has made me reflect on the many changes and transitions I’ve experienced and consider how successfully or unsuccessfully I’ve navigated each. Transitions stem from change; some are self-initiated, while others result from decisions made by others that impact us. Some transitions bring wonderful opportunities filled with adventure and excitment, while others may lead to loss, grief, and anxiety.

    During this winter solstice season, as I reflect on the past year, I remember moments of joy and laughter, delight and pleasure, beauty and wonder, awe and curiosity, peace and stillness. I also remember moments of deep sadness and tears, anger and fear, loss and grief. This is life; these are the seasons of life that shape us into unique and wonderful human beings living amidst its messiness.

    One of my favorite Broadway experiences was Rent. From the opening number, I was captivated by the stories of a group of young bohemians endeavoring to live fully. It chronicles a year in their lives. The opening song, “Seasons of Life,” asks, “How do you measure the value of a year in a person’s life?” A big question! But is it really? Looking back over 2024, how would you describe its value in terms of your accomplishments, contributions, and what you’ve received? What gauge or criterion might you use to evaluate its worth? I believe this question, posed by songwriter Jonathan Larson, provides a simple yet profound foundation for closing off a year and setting intentions for 2025, marking it as a year of great value.

    What do you think? How might you measure the value of 2024?

    2024 ~ ready for new adventures…Blog 130

    I love to travel, really I do. However, this love is not without conditions. I most enjoy travelling with someone, preferably family and close friends, and I like going places that offer the opportunity to be by the sea or ocean. While I appreciate time spent in a city exploring the arts, culture, gastronomy and of course unique shopping, I prefer to spend my time in the less busy, less travelled parts of the world. To be clear, I’m not talking about roughing it, I do appreciate my creature comforts, just more so in peaceful, slower paced locations. 

    There are, of course, some things about travel that I find less enjoyable. Like long haul flights that leave you longing for that invigorating walk on the beach where stretching without fear of elbowing another passenger, or flight attendant, is possible. Or how about the challenge of visiting the aeroplane bathrooms? It takes some contorting to rearrange every single thing around you, climb over a sleeping seat mate, and then wait for your turn to once again be a contortionist to fit into the smallest closet size space to relieve yourself. And then you get to do it all in reverse. 

    Then there’s the jet lag — oh my! I’ve heard many tips and tricks to deal with it, and some even claim to prevent it; however, the reality is that jet lag is part and parcel of travelling to those amazing, yet to be discovered far off places that call for navigating across various time zones. Great argument there for local travel and road trips!

    But still, I love to travel and explore new places, shop in local markets, enjoy local cuisine (except fish, unfortunately), and find those spots that offer moments of quiet and reflection by the water.  

    We are starting the year off with a wonderful travel experience, not to new places, but to someplace more familiar. As many readers know, we spent 7 months travelling and living in Portugal and Spain in 2021/2022. To celebrate my departure from full time employment to freelancing (Professional Development Coaching), we are taking advantage of creating our own time schedule. 

    Carvoeiro, Portugal is one of the places that won our hearts during our extended time in the EU, so it is serving as our home base for a short time while we enjoy this incredibly beautiful part of the world. But even more fantastic is the time we have to enjoy being with both our kids and their children. This time together isn’t something we take lightly — living in different parts of the world has its challenges! It is simply heartwarming and life-giving to spend time on spectacular beaches with your family. The perfect way to kick off a new year.

    So, as we look to the year ahead, what does travel look like for 2024? Perhaps back to Europe, perhaps travel in Canada, perhaps…who knows? What I am sure of, is it will be filled with adventure, exploration, learning, and delight! And more inspirational places to write and create. Stay tuned.

    Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar.
    Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.

    —Anthony Doerr

    A climb to remember by Gracie Sawatzky… Blog #126

    I am so thrilled to have a guest blogger for this post, my second oldest granddaughter, Gracie. She is a talented writer and painter, and I know you’ll enjoy hearing about one of her favourite travel adventures.

    Hello! My name is Gracie and I have spent the past ten years travelling around Europe with my parents and siblings. Though we certainly haven’t been everywhere nor seen everything, we have seen so much that has inspired us! One experience that sticks most in our memories was a summer we spent up in the Alps, camping in a tiny French town on the southern tip of Lake Annecy. Beautiful and deep, the lake filled the valley and up from its shores the mountains and hills rose to the sky over which wonderful and beautiful cloud displays crowned the peak of the mountains. 

    It was at the foot of these mountains, in the valley, that we spent our time looking up at the mountains from below and watching as the paragliders left the mountain ridge and descended slowly down in circles and curves. We wondered how the view would look from up there and heard people tell of a hike you could take to reach it. We love to explore, especially by foot, so on one of the cooler days we started out for the trail. 

    The early-morning sun was only just starting to show its face over the peaks. We started off through the village, passing houses with their stone bases and dark wooden walls. The whole village was filled with the smell of fresh bread from the local bakery. We passed gardens over whose walls the flowers flowed in all colours, swaying and filling the air with heavenly fragrances. Behind us the sun’s rays moved slowly down the slopes; the cool of the morning would soon depart leaving a heat that was less enjoyable to hike in. After leaving the village we walked along dusty paths through the fields and crossed over the main road through the valley. On the other side it was cooler, for here we walked through the damp woods to reach the foot of the mountain. As we approached the base of the mountain, the path separated into minor trails, all leading to lovely places along the shores of the lake. But our trail lay up the mountain, and so we started on the broad trail that zig-zagged its way slowly up the slope, over which the sun began to flood with fresh light and warmth. At first, the trail was easy, the way was straight and clear, but gradually it narrowed. Around us, the forest grew up the slope on our right and down the slope on our left. 

    As the morning passed, and we made our way up, the trail grew busier; some people passed on by up the mountain, while others descended, though from where exactly, we weren’t yet sure. The air was cool and we felt energetic and enthusiastic. The people we met were of all sorts, some went by without saying anything, others smiled and said good morning (or “bonjour; everyone bonjour’s in France), and a few had some comments about the journey and the destination. But not all were seeking the top, there were those coming down to enjoy a dip in the lake at the bottom. 

    Painting by Gracie Sawatzky

    By midday, we reached the halfway viewpoint. Here, people would turn back. After this, the path began to become more challenging. There were tree roots and mossy stones to clamber around, slippery leaf banks, and a few steep places, where my dad was absolutely convinced we were all going to fall to our death! We were getting tired but it was still fun and interesting, but we were all getting pretty hot and sweaty; the coolness of the morning was quickly becoming a fading memory. In patches through the treetops, one could catch glimpses of the surrounding view, but only glimpses, for the woods were thick, and one was always weaving in and out of the rolling. 

    The afternoon wore on and one felt like the world was mostly trees and a never-ending path. The most tired simply focused on each step and the most ambitious sought out ways to traverse the more intricate ground below and above the path (we resembled goats, much to my dad’s fears, as I’ve already mentioned). Now, when people passed, one had to stop and move aside, for the path was narrow. Soon, the path no longer zig-zagged up but began climbing in a steady upwards direction. At every bend, one half expected to find an opening, and at every rise one felt the altitude rise ever so gently. Soon faces began to look fresh and smiles of encouragement spurred us on. Some of the nature changed and signs dotted the path here and there to herald the (what we assumed to be) end of our hike. Then, at last, the tree line broke and up a few well-worn steps brought us out into the open above their tops. Our feet were aching and our legs exhausted, but it was all quite quickly forgotten when one turned around and saw the great expanse of mountain, sky and valley below! The lake was now far below, and on its surface, the boats left white lines, yet seemed to hardly not move. We spotted familiar landmarks and watched the cars along the thin line of the road. The valley was patched like a quilt of green: forests, fields, farms, and villages. Looking down we saw the slopes rise from the very and over their top peaks we saw more slopes beyond, rolling on into the misty distance. Behind, the mountain peaks rose from the green mountain pastures into the misty clouds sailing fast not far above. Across the pastures the sounds of bells could be heard, their ringing mixed with the lowing of cows and baying of sheep. In the tiny village at the top of this mountain, the many visitors bustled about buying cheese as well as other alpine articles of interest. The paraglider jumped off and tired hikers and cyclists (there was a road to the top as well) parked and rested, gazing off at the view. The air was lighter and fresher, it felt like another world far up there, and rather exhilarating was the fact that we had reached here, not by car, not by bus, but with our own legs, and all that we felt had been well worth the climb! 

    That was a few years ago now, but the memory of that day has never left us, nor the inspiration and motivation of where we could reach on our own two feet. We had reached a beautiful view of the Alps, the heavens, as well as rolling hills and valleys. We saw life moving slowly below, we saw the clouds within reach, encircling the rocky peaks above the tree line, and we saw those peaks rise and disappear in the distance as they climbed higher. 

    ‘Maynooth’ by Gracie Sawatzky

    Now I take those memories of ours and photographs from my mother, to create pieces as I work on growing my skills in drawing and colour theory. If you are interested in perhaps purchasing this piece or looking at others you can contact me at gracie.art@icloud.com

    Alaska, reliving the memories…Blog #125

    A reminder sounded on my phone just now… ‘Boarding at 1 p.m.’

    Today was the day we were to board the cruise ship for an Alaskan Cruise. Sadly, it’s not happening. Pneumonia decided to attack my husband’s lungs, so rather than soaking up the beauty of the Alaskan glaciers, we’ll be soaking up the beauty from our own deck. 

    When planning an adventure, part of the joy is the anticipation. We didn’t miss out on that. In fact, because we had taken a similar cruise several years ago, we had already been revisiting the memorable time we had exploring the magnificence of that area.

    In a previous blog, I talked about taking time over the summer to reflect. For me, one way to do so is to look at pictures from past adventures, absorb every detail, relive the moments, feel the emotions, and let my mind remember and be there once again.

    For our Alaskan cruise, I didn’t need to look at pictures to remind me of the moments, the emotions, the awe-inspiring creation all around. This is actually a good thing because I can’t find our pictures from that trip; I still had a Blackberry at that time!

    John Hopkins Glacier

    First of all, the weather was perfect and the cooler temperatures were most welcome in the midst of a hot Okanagan summer. The scenery from the ship was simply breathtaking! And the glaciers…wow! Our cruise was at the end of July, and we were fortunate, (according to the Captain), to have perfect weather, the most calving activity they had ever witnessed, all presented under the deepest blue skies I think I had ever seen. 

    However, the most vivid memories that come to mind are the two excursions we took: kayaking on a glacier lake, and biking to Mendenhall Glacier. 

    We love kayaking, but to that point, our ventures were mostly on local lakes in British Columbia, with a couple of paddles around the coast off Vancouver Island, which were truly lovely. But never before did we experience the calm, turquoise waters of a glacial lake! I have since learned that the specific blue hue, the glacial blue can only be found in glaciers.

    Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

    But it wasn’t just about the glacial lake–the guide reminded us to look up and around. What we saw appeared to be hundreds of golf balls stuck in the surrounding trees. We had no clue what we were looking at…until we saw the majestic eagles taking flight. What appeared to be golf balls were actually the heads of bald eagles! We were speechless. And seeing them in flight was truly a sight to behold. We learned that Alaska is home to over 30,000 bald eagles, many living in the trees around inland lakes. And we were blessed to see them in their natural habitat. Unbelievable.  

    What can I say about Mendenhall Glacier other than wow!!! Mendenhall flows from the Juneau Icefields into Mendenhall Lake. We were up close and personal as we biked along lakes, glaciers, mountains, and local swimming holes. Yes, kids were actually swimming in the lake then climbing out on the rocks to warm up in the intense Alaskan sun. The ride was about 14 km, nice and easy, truly affording us the privilege of taking in all the sights along the way. 

    Our final destination on that excursion? A brewery where we were treated to some of the most delicious beer from around Alaska, accompanied by an interesting presentation delivered by a knowledgeable local historian while we imbibed the rich brew.

    What a wonderful trip down memory lane to revisit a world so different from our own. I can’t wait for our friends to come home and share the joys of their discoveries and adventures on the Alaskan cruise we will have to retake another time.

    Summer, slowing down to reflect…Blog #124

    Summer has officially begun! Honestly, it feels like summer began mid-May when I flew away to Spain and I’ve been waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with me! 

    Summer always speaks to me of slowing down, experiencing getaways and travel, adventure, lazy afternoon’s sipping wine on a patio or local winery while gazing over vistas boasting breath taking views of lakes and vineyards, long bike rides, leisurely walks (that always end at a cafe), and taking time to simply reflect on life.

    Taking time to reflect…hmmm. As I was reading over blogs from previous years, I came across one I’d written on Information Overload and Creativity–these words stopped me in my tracks.

    Cape Finisterre, Spain

    As I write this I am again reminded that what I don’t manage well is time to reflect, to slow down and relish the moment I am in, to ponder those special moments that happen each day. To call up the smile on the face of a grandchild you’ve had a chance to cuddle with, to share in the joy of good news offered, or to simply walk through the falling leaves of autumn. 

    In the blog I provided a link to Manoush Zomorodi speaking on How boredom can lead to your most brilliant ideas  

    Watching the video I felt at once convicted and inspired. How amazing to recognize when your body goes on autopilot, your brain gets busy forming new neural connections that connect ideas and solve problems.

    I have a need to keep busy, to check my phone all too often, to stay on top of what’s happening on LinkedIn…I am guilty of FOMO! Not a recipe for effective reflection, or embracing opportunities to actually be bored.

    Close to Sarria, Spain

    So, I have a goal for this summer. Picture time…not taking more, but spending time looking at pictures from past adventures, absorbing every detail, reliving the moments, feeling the emotions, letting my mind remember and be there once again.

    I’m ready to be inspired, to be brilliant for what lies ahead. I’m looking forward to some bored moments this summer. How about you?  

    Melide, Spain

    Pictures taken along the way while on my recent ‘Hiking the Camino’ trip to Spain.

    A travel legacy from my Dad…Blog# 123

    This Sunday is Father’s Day. A day when we traditionally honour our dads and those men who have had a significant impact on our lives. For some the memories are not something deserving focus or release from long, shut away memory vaults. My heart hurts for those of you who had to suffer such pain.

    For others, Father’s Day is an opportunity to reflect on past memories, and turn back the hands of time to consider how our dads have left their imprint on our lives. I’m one of the fortunate ones; while my dad wasn’t perfect, he certainly loved his family and did the very best he could. My father passed away July 2021 after suffering several years with vascular dementia. 

    While he still could, I loved taking Dad for coffee where we laughed, and at times cried together at shared memories of the past. He always asked the same questions. 1. How’s Rob (my husband)? How are Ian and Jennifer (my brother and sister)? How are all the kids?

    The next question? Have you travelled anywhere lately? This would immediately lead to a lovely walk down memory lane as we chatted about vacations taken as a family. You see, my dad loved to travel, and he passed his love of travel on to me. 

    Growing up in Ireland, many of our holidays were to the South of Ireland, England, or Scotland. In our coffee chats, a favourite holiday that often surfaced in our conversations found our family of five riding a pony and trap around the Gap of Dunloe in Killarney, Ireland. 

    Gap of Dunloe (thanks Unsplash)

    I was eight. We were surrounded by lush green beauty dotted with deep purple heather that abounds across Ireland. Amongst the heather were herds of sheep, meandering along with no thought of destination. We pasted many lakes, and jaunted along the River Loe, taking it’s time to weave from one lake to the next. I remember the surrounding majestic mountains (ok, big hills), poised and ready for the Cavalry, soon to appear rescuing me from the monotony of riding in that slow, rickety carriage! 

    The Cavalry never came. While the carriage was good for my parents and new born sister…and I think my brother was happy with it…it simply didn’t cut it for me! I so desperately wanted to ride a horse, untethered, free to wander and explore. Not go at a snail’s pace! But there I sat, taking in the beauty, and not sporting a bad attitude at all!

    Still, the memory brings a warmth to my soul. In spite of my dampened spirit, it was a trip to remember.      

    Then there was the trip to Loch Ness in the Scottish Highlands where we actually saw Nessie! Yup, the fabled Loch Ness Monster. It was a damp, rainy day (of course). The fog was hovering over the lake creating an eerie stillness. Cars were pulled over to the side of the road. Dad, having as curious a nature as I, pulled over to investigate. Everyone was speaking in low whispers, eyes peeled on the lake. Then we saw her…Nessie appeared through the fog, cutting a trail through the placid waters. Head held high, her eyes glowed—I held my breath not wanting to break the spell. 

    Then the film crew emerged through the fog and the spell was broken (deep sigh). Another wonderful shared family holiday. 

    I have so many memories that continue to feed my love of travel. This excerpt from my memoir (coming soon, I hope!) paints a lovely picture of what travel looked like for our family. 

    Imagine weekends heading to Annalong, the small fishing village in Ireland where my dad grew up. Fancy dress parades in the English gardens of a grand old boarding house in the South of Ireland. Eating fish and chips on the pebble beaches of Portsmouth and Bournemouth, England, all the while protecting the yumminess from hungry seagulls. After immigrating to Canada, even though finances were tight, our family still managed to vacation in beach front cabins that provided front row seats to weather that lit up the sky, causing our hair to stand on end, while we giggled at the sight we must have been lying in bed with umbrellas protecting us from the effects of a leaky roof in much need of repair. 

    From storms to heat that had our virgin Irish skin running for cover, were the trips to Disney World when four long days of mind-blowing boredom on unending highways were immediately forgotten when our eyes feasted on the magic that would create memories never to be erased.   

    I don’t remember a year passing without a family vacation, something my husband and I continued with our kids. Travel can be to far off lands, or to nearby campsites. It can be for multiple weeks, or a couple of days. Near, far, extensive, short–travel creates a lifetime of memories and opens up a whole new world. And, from my experience, it’s best shared with those you love. 

    So, Dad…thanks, you made travel happen for our family and modelled values that continue to guide the lives of your off-spring; you opened our eyes to a big, beautiful world. You are greatly missed.