I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it – this interest in my story.
 
In church this morning, people were commenting on their surprise at finding a giant picture of me on the front-page of Saturday’s Winnipeg Free Press. I know - I’m ancient – and I look ancient.
 
But when I express my surprise as well – saying that I am hardly a breaking news journalism story. - one of them agrees, but then says…. ” But you do fit the criteria of a human-interest story which is also an important to Winnipeg."
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She’s right,. Apparently a human-interest story presents people and their problems, concerns, or achievements in a way that brings about interest, sympathy or motivation in the reader or viewer. news
 
Actually, I am honored – but it does add pressure. Even though the story itself featured the Candace House – it does mention the fact that I am writing a book about forgiveness. It even gives a deadline – January 17, 2025.
 
Imagine the pressure – I have just publicly promised to write a book on “Impossible Forgiveness” – and have it completed by this Friday.
 
That takes care of all other plans I might have been entertaining  for this week – and  I wonder what shape -  both I and the completed manuscript will look like – come Friday.
 
Deadlines refine the mind. They remove variables like exotic materials and processes that take too long. The closer the deadline, the more likely you'll start thinking way outside the box. – Adam Savage  

I think I might blog - once a week. Feel free to join my in my journey through this amazing year.

From what I'm hearing - the word for this year is grace - found in the number five. I am going to take advantage of this emphasis on five and explore my fivefold forgiveness journey in 2025.

Actually in the past - when I can't seem to finish a book, I resort to blogging and it seems to help me. This is my ulterior motive for blogging  I'm stuck and I want to push through to finish this book

Here is how I begin the manuscript ... entitled, "Impossible, my seven steps to forgiveness."

I am sitting in my apartment – nine floors up and I see this magnificent bird in the distance – soaring in the sky. It isn’t flapping its wings like the geese, seagulls or magpies that usually fly by my window, its just floating effortlessly on the invisible currents of the wind. I am fascinated.

Then it begins to circle closer and closer until it flies right by my balcony window. It seems to pause, midflight, notice me for a moment, then with a flap of its massive wings swoops up over my building out of sight until it reappears again in the far distance.

It is an eagle! I’ve never seen an eagle in this part of the city before. In fact, I’ve never locked eyes with an eagle in mid flight.

I am mesmerized.

In the distance, I watch how it still continues to float and soar. Its white feathered head glimmering in the sunlight, as it glides higher and higher for longer periods of time – longer than any other bird known to man.

What a moment!  To witness this amazing bird riding the air current with its large wings designed to float so effortlessly. Fly Eagle Fly.

I envy it.

The eagle has become a symbolic floating metaphor, a poetic image often associated with the ability to rise above the difficulties of life through faith in God.  It’s always an inspiration.

I look down at my computer, I am writing about forgiveness.
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Does forgiveness give us wings to ride the dark currents of our night?

There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud. Carl Sandburg

It's January 1, 2025. Wonderful New Years' Party -  drove home late last night in a soft snow flurry. I'm still pondering the image of a Dung Gate. Does this mean 2025 is going to be a “shitty”– or a “smelly” year? 
 
When I began teaching a writing course six years ago, I knew that I had to create a safe place apart from the inner critic that haunts and inhibits beginning writers.
 
Around the same time, I became aware of research on lie detection. They had learned that to find out if someone is honest, ask them if they enjoy a good bowel movement. If they deny it – they are lying. Apparently, we all feel really good after we have had emptied ourselves, had a good dump – and the place stinks.
 
So when I began teaching, I instructed the writers to imagine themselves in the washroom. “When you write your first draft – go into a washroom, lock the doors and sit on the toilet and shit it out.”
 
I don’t ordinarily like to use the word “shit” but in this context it seemed appropriate. I used it as a rule – repeating it every week for the eight week course. “Lock everyone out of your private room, - don’t even let your partner in – and enjoy a good dump.” I said over and over again.
 
I’ve been teaching that course now for six years and I have been surprised at the success of the writing that has come out of those washroom breaks.  I think there are a few other props that have helped, but I truly believe it was this constant urging to write the first draft on the toilet – this unique safe workspace especially suited for the vulnerable moments  – that helped the most. We all need a safe place. to create.
 
I am still smiling -- as I wish you a happy new year. May this Dung Gate image for 2025 – symbolizing a smelly but healthy year – inspire you to take advantage of those washroom breaks and turn each stinky moment of this new year  into something beautiful.
 
Wishing you a Happy Safe New Year!
 
“You have to accept the fact that sometimes you are the pigeon, and sometimes you are the statue.”  Claude Chabrol