Books with a powerful awareness message: Station Eleven

I picked up Station Eleven after reading excellent reviews of the book, including one by Modern Mrs. Darcy, featured on a list of books to read when one feels like the world is falling apart. This has been a challenging summer for many, with sad stories from those we know closely, terrible news reports, and too much general noise and confusion. I sought a book that would be tough to put down and one that would help to reinforce a greater sense of purpose and meaning.

Station Eleven begins with a production of King Lear in one of my favourite theatres, the Elgin and Winter Garden in Toronto. In the midst of the play, the actor Arthur Leander collapses on stage and dies of a heart attack. Jeevan Chaudhary is a paramedic in training who attempts to resuscitate the actor. Observing the real-life drama unfolding on stage before her is Kirsten, a child actor who was greatly inspired by Arthur’s work and feels a strong curiosity to learn more about his life. Two days following the death at the theatre, the world is plagued by Georgian Flu, an epidemic that sweeps throughout the globe. Among the survivors are Jeevan and Kirsten, who separately struggle to make new lives for themselves.

I was slightly hesitant about reading a post-apocalyptic novel. I tend to stay as far away as possible from material that I would perceive as too heavy for my HSP self. Emily St. John Mandel’s book provided just the right amount of description of a desolate world before presenting the stories of a jaded actor, two of his three ex-wives, Jeevan, and Kisten. Ultimately, Station Eleven is a story of a search for meaning through human connection and deconstruction of the past. When the world as we once knew it is no more, we must dig deeper to create.

Without any spoilers, I want to share with you a poignant message from a scene that takes place toward the final third of the book, when Clark Thompson, a man who was a good friend of Arthur’s, looks over his professional notes from his days of working as an organizational change management consultant. With equal parts humour and dismay, he confronts the understanding that in the old days (in today’s world), many career-oriented people walked the world like zombies governed by an external schedule along the lines of: wake up; check email; go to work while looking down at a handheld device, scrolling mindlessly, barely looking up to acknowledge other people who are passing by us; sit through the workday, staring at a computer screen, communicating with others through email and text messages; commute back home while staring at a handheld device, and continue to check the same device before going to bed at night. Clark asks a man with whom he is reviewing the documents about the unsettling terminology of ‘firing off’ emails, suggesting an impulsive action amidst a life that moves too fast. The deconstruction of the past in the context of technology provides us with an eye-opening reminder of our commonplace reliance on computers for everyday communication. For me, this is a powerful reminder to pause to consider our everyday habits and expectations.

In the dystopian world in which Kirsten travels with a symphony that entertains communities with music and Shakespearean plays, she cherishes not only Shakespeare’s words and her work as an artist, but also a special comic book and a collection of TV guide magazines with gossip articles about her idol actor. To her, these are fragile reminders of the finer points from a past of which she is not interested in completely letting go. In the new world, the element of hope is sourced within the big questions and lessons learned from existential introspection into past mistakes and successes, and those lessons have left me with plenty to ponder. It has been almost a week since I finished reading the book (I breezed through it in three days) and I continue to be haunted — in the most positive way — by this gem.

What books have you read recently that left a big impression on you by reminding you to practise greater awareness? Please leave a comment below to join the conversation.

Milestones and memories

I remember my father’s 50th birthday, when I called him from a phone booth at a gas station near a field in the south of France to send my wishes. In Toronto, it was 11:30 p.m. on Friday and my parents and grandmother were still in the midst of a quiet celebration at home, preparing to retire for the night after a long workweek. In Provence, where Mr. Wanderlust and I were enjoying our honeymoon, it was 5:30 on a crisp Saturday morning and the first yawning light of the sun started to appear. We were on our way to the meeting spot from which ‘our’ hot air balloon was to be launched. Alas, the Mistral was too fierce that day and the flight never took place. Instead, we had breakfast in Apt at a café table in the town’s square, then anxiously squeezed our way through the uncomfortably tight crowds of market shoppers snaking through the narrow cobblestone streets lined with vendors.

I also remember my father’s 40th birthday, during our first summer in Canada. His friends had arrived cheerfully unannounced with snacks and cold beer to enjoy while lounging on the balcony in the heat of the afternoon. Likewise, I remember his birthday dinners from my childhood, when my parents’ friends would arrive at our apartment and greet my father at the door with hugs, exclaiming how long it had been since they last saw each other. Then, a few of the guests would turn to me, marvel at how I’ve grown, and one man, Papa’s friend, presented me with a Mickey Mouse pencil. I beamed in delight as I realized that someone must have told him that my birthday is the day after Papa’s.

Perhaps I remember my father’s celebrations so vividly because they have always felt like my own, with our birthdays so close together. I suppose I stole my dad’s spotlight, made him share it with me, but in truth, I loved the special treat of a joined celebration. As a little girl, I was proud to walk beside him, sheltered by his tall shadow as we made our way home together after school. Our lives are different now, and my 60-year-old Papa is only a few inches taller when we stand side-by-side (see the photo above from my wedding day, 10 years ago). I continue to delight in (almost) sharing a birthday with him and am humbled today by the passing of time. Happy 60th, Papa!


Mr. Wanderlust and I have been knee-deep in home renovations. Do you want to know my secret to staying focused and maintaining a calm demeanor while spending the weekends painting the walls of our house? Audiobooks! You might be thinking, Isn’t it a distraction to listen to audiobooks while painting? It’s not very mindful, is it? Perhaps not, but given that I am not a big fan of renovations (see: I strongly dislike them), I give myself the proverbial pat on the back if I can stay fully focused on painting the walls for 15 minutes. I also sometimes enjoy listening to audiobooks while out for a morning walk, but that depends on my mood. Most mornings call for quiet and calm, with my soundtrack consisting of the chirping of the birds, the whispers of my deep breathing, and the soft landing of the soles of my shoes on the pavement. My approach to audiobooks is different from my approach to reading, but that’s a subject for a different post. In the meantime, I will share with you a few recently discovered favourites:

The Nightingale by [Hannah, Kristin]

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (or the audiobook)

In the recent years, I have become a fan of fiction set in WWII. The Nightingale was recommended to readers who liked Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See, and that was my motive for choosing this book. I enjoyed the excellent narration of Polly Stone, whose French and German accents and pronunciation, and dramatic vocal changes, were very effective. I liked this book so much that I now have the hardcover or paperback version on my wishlist. This was the first book by Kristin Hannah to which I listened, and I long to read her words for myself, to enjoy her wonderful storytelling in thorough detail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman (or the audiobook)

The Light Between Oceans is beautifully written, with a slow-and-steady narrative that effectively reflects the pace of the life of Tom and Isabel Sherbourne on an isolated island. Unfortunately, I was not impressed with the narration by Noah Taylor, though I do admire his acting work. Despite that, I was riveted by the turbulent story of Tom and Isabel through their loss, heartbreak, and lessons in love and faith.

The Husband's Secret by [Moriarty, Liane]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Husband’s Secret, by Liane Moriarty (or the audiobook)

I was reluctant to pick up The Husband’s Secret because I generally am not a fan of chick lit. However, after reading a recommendation from Modern Mrs. Darcy, whose opinion I hold in high esteem, I decided to pick it up. I was impressed not only by the story itself and the excellent character development, but also by the narration by Caroline Lee. Moriarty’s storytelling reminds me somewhat of the style made popular by Maeve Binchy, in which the lives of many individual characters in one community become intertwined, creating a cohesive picture with a poignant message of friendship: We are never alone, though often lonely. Unlike Binchy, Moriarty’s books address heavier issues with a lightness that keeps the reader turning pages.

What have you been reading or listening to lately? Please leave a comment below.

Impermanence, Choices, and Change

Dear readers: After some careful thinking, I decided that, based on what feels right at this time, this journal will be updated on Thursdays. To receive weekly updates directly in your inbox, please subscribe by entering your email address in the field at the top right-hand side of this page, and click ‘Subscribe.’ Thank you for stopping by!

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings

I have been contemplating our impermanent nature while re-watching the Lord of the Rings movies, which are part of my modest collection of ‘go to’ movies for precarious times. We know that life swirls in cycles and that change is inevitable. The idea of permanence is relative; even what we deem to be a permanent change in our lives will never lead to a situation that will last forever. We know this, yet we grasp for the elusive idea of permanence, to absolute terms. We want to have decisions in writing. We expect promises to be kept forever. We want to make a resolution and stick with it for the rest of our lives. Yet, many other circumstances often decide our fate.

Recently, a good friend shared with me that for a long time, she was reluctant to tell her friends and family about a lifestyle change that she had accepted. She was worried that she would fail in her quest and would be perceived as flaky if she were to return to her old habits. Unlike my friend, in my true Vata nature, I have had too many instances in which I made a quick decision ‘on my feet’ and just as quickly dropped it a few days (and sometimes a few hours) later when I realized that it was not the right choice for me at the time.

I have always thought of change as fascinating and exciting, and perhaps its exciting nature is precisely what makes change exhilarating (I’m purposely avoiding the word ‘scary’). The unknown makes us feel nervous because we understand that in some way, whether small or major, life will never be the same, that we will never be the same. Taking one step into the future means being one step farther away from what we have come to know as home, the comfort zone. I learned many years ago that the quickest way to embrace the journey and enjoy it is by not over-analyzing the situation, the ‘what if’ scenarios. I learned to take a deep breath and leap straight out of my comfort zone and into the unknown, armed only with complete awareness of the present moment, with great hope, and a smile plastered above my chin. And that, dear readers, is how I have been making my way through life, by accepting that the unexpected will happen, that some situations can be terrifying, and that by worrying about how potentially terrifying life can be, we create unnecessary drama and self-inflicted anxiety.

Lest you think that I have become a change management expert of sorts, allow me to assure you that some days, I feel overwhelmed by choices, treating each option as the ultimate decision and second-guessing myself, asking how I would feel if I were to choose Option B instead of Option A, how my fate and the fate of others around me would change. Then, I remind myself to breathe, because nothing is under control, and ask myself once again, ‘Does this choice feel right for me at this time?’

Oh, and remember: It’s okay to change your mind. Going back does not mean we have failed; besides, there is no ‘back’ to return to.


 

How do you feel about change and when faced with the need to make a decision? Please leave a comment below.

Thank you for sharing this blog with a friend!

One good word

I have been feeling tired.

Tired of the glare of the computer screen.
Tired of the buzzing phone.
Tired of hearing news stories meant to spark arguments, dividing people into groups of those who agree and those who disagree.
Those two groups can often be united in the sharing of their harsh opinion toward those who are not ready to pass judgment or choose to keep their opinions to themselves.
Can we excuse ourselves from having an opinion?
We are asked to judge, to think, to reflect, but there are subjects that do not interest me.
To think of those subjects takes more energy than I wish to expend.
Is that wrong?
Instead, I choose to direct my attention, which has been worn thin as of late, toward what and who matters most to me.
I opened my Facebook page today to read about two new topics that sparked drama among parents.
Why is it usually the women who are most deeply affected by this drama?
We feel.
We analyse.
We are sensitive.
Most importantly, we want to protect our children while creating a better world for them.
May I suggest that perhaps we should start by practising kindness?
Kindness toward ourselves.
Kindness toward others who try too hard while wondering whether they’re doing okay, feeling a bit lost, insecure, confused.
And yes, tired.

On this note, I leave you with words by the poet David Whyte:
Loaves and Fishes

This is not
the age of information.

This is not
the age of information.

Forget the news,
and the radio,
and the blurred screen.

This is the time
of loaves
and fishes.

People are hungry
and one good word is bread
for a thousand.

— David Whyte
from The House of Belonging 
©1996 Many Rivers Press

Poetry to fuel life

Although I have been leading restorative yoga classes for the past several years, yesterday was my first candlelight restorative class at a relatively new and absolutely charming yoga studio off Main Street Markham. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to guide classes in this space.

As I prepared for yesterday’s class, designing the sequence, packing my essential oils, and creating a playlist, a wave of nervousness rose over me for a few brief moments. This isn’t something new. As an introvert, I often get slightly nervous when preparing to venture into new territory to meet a new group of people. I wonder about how I will be perceived. Will Xavier Rudd’s and Trevor Hall’s words resonate with them, or do they prefer music without lyrics? Do they like to move gently before settling into long-held supported poses?
I heard the whisper-thin nudge to breathe, to soften my shoulders, welcome in the new opportunity and avoid using the term ‘introvert’ as an excuse. I was reminded of a line from one of my favourite poems by Mary Oliver:
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Yoga is my passion and my dharma, and I want to share it with as many people as I possibly can. I acknowledge the experience of nervousness, then let it go, shifting my focus to continue walking my path with honesty.

I picked up my yoga mat bag, essentials oils, iPod, lips balm, and house keys, slipping them into the small pocket of the canvas bag. Having kissed Wanderlust Juniors goodbye, just before heading out the door, I slipped a folded sheet of paper into the pocket of my bag in order to share Mary Oliver’s words with the new yogis I was to meet. I read the poem to them during Savasana and finished the class to the sight of genuinely warm and grateful smiles.

The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
from New and Selected Poems, 1992
Beacon Press, Boston, MA

Do you tend to feel nervous in new situations? Do you sometimes experience ‘stage fright,’ even though you may have previously spent many hours speaking before a crowd? What reminders do you use to bring yourself back to the present moment, to focus on serving your dharma, walking your path? Please leave a comment below to contribute to the discussion.

Walk like Audrey Hepburn

May 4th is on the other side of the weekend, plus a few days, and it marks the birthday of the late Audrey Hepburn. You might ask yourself, dear reader, whether I’m a crazed fan who remembers the birthdays not only of her family members and close friends but of her favourite actress. The answer is yes. Yes, I am. I also remember Mozart’s birthday and admire his music greatly, but that’s beside the point. This week’s post is a tribute to the legendary Audrey Hepburn, or AH. I sing Holly Golightly’s Moon River to Wanderlust Juniors while snuggling with them at bedtime. I sing Sabrina’s La Vie en Rose while washing the dishes. I have been known to walk into hair salons and ask the stylist to chop off all my hair, à la Princess Ann in Roman Holiday. I have read and reread all the biography books that have been published about AH. She is an inspiration to me not only in style but also the lifestyle she led.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my transition from intensive HIIT workouts toward walking and dancing. These two forms of exercise have become my choices for exercise that does not feel like exercise. I recently started to let go of the more rigid and competitive forms of fitness that require me to work at high intensity for 20 minutes. In truth, no matter how little time I spend on bursts that bring my heart rate to 80-90%, I do not enjoy that time. Instead, I prefer to take a long walk – the longer, the better – in my neighbourhood, even if that means getting up even earlier than I used to. What all this has to do with AH is that she also was an early riser and, as her son, Sean Hepburn Ferrer, writes in Audrey Hepburn: An Elegant Spirit, AH enjoyed long walks with her dogs. Instead of dogs, I have a cat, who happily stays at home to nap or watch the world from a cozy spot on her windowsill, but I, too, enjoy long walks.

And so, after feeding Tigger, and following my daily yoga practice, I slip on my comfortable running walking shoes and head out for a 5 km walk, greeting the sunrise, allowing the bright golden rays to bathe my face as, at once, the cool morning breeze gently brushes my face. I watch as the world around me starts to wake up, listen to the serenade of the birds, observe people as they settle into their cars in the driveway, preparing to drive to work. Sometimes, I wear earphones to listen to my favourite music and focus on the melody, the lyrics. At other times, I allow stories to weave their way through my imagination as I let go of my practice of mindfulness, giving myself permission to play. I feel the solid ground as I firmly set down one foot in front of the other. I move, I breathe, I feel. Cold, rainy days beckon me inside to dance in the warmth of my home, but I mostly crave movement outdoors. And that is why I walk. I am not a runner; my knees don’t allow me to enjoy the activity. Walking provides me with the fresh air and movement for which I thirst. Earlier this week, I was away on a business trip during which I saw the world out of the tiny airplane window, then was surrounded for two days by the walls of the airport, the hotel room, and the office building, without an opportunity to step outside. It’s good to be back home with my family, and I’m also grateful for the opportunity to return to my daily walks. Walking is my hobby. Walking is my calming cardio. Walking makes me a happier, grounded, lighter woman, mother, and partner. I suspect AH would have said the same.

Where is your favourite place to walk? Please feel free to leave a comment below. Do you know someone who might enjoy this blog? Please feel free to share it with a friend.

The best version of myself

“Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life.” ~ Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

I greatly admire the work of Brené Brown, and specifically her research on vulnerability and the healing of our perfectionist tendencies. From where do those tendencies arise? I’m not seeking to put blame upon society or our families. It’s natural for us to encourage ourselves and others around us to strive to be better, to succeed. However, success has many definitions.

Working to achieve perfection feels to me hard-edged, rigid.  I have been shifting my focus toward replacing old perfectionist tendencies, shedding habitual attempts to be better than I was yesterday by means of grasping tighter, pushing harder. Instead, my goal and definition of success is to be the best version of myself, every day. To me, it means the inevitability of stumbling from time to time, but finding the soft strength to admit my vulnerability, to allow myself to sit with the swirling emotions and convoluted circumstances, then watch them unravel naturally, without the use of force. From this authentic place, I remind myself to get back up and proceed with the agenda, ticking off tasks as I go, allowing myself to feel, to observe, to experience, owning up to my mistakes and gathering closely the lessons that I continue to acquire. Those are the lessons that nudge me closer toward today’s goal, reminding me to forgive, to accept, and to continue working to be the best version of myself.

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” ~ Brené Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead

What is your definition of success? I would love to read about the steps you have taken to heal perfectionist tendencies that do not serve you. Please leave a comment below.

Thank you, as always, for sharing this blog with a friend.

Recommended links and current reading and listening material: November 29th edition

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Interesting Links:

The Power of Empathetic Thought (Goop.com)

“On a more personal level, I think we need to move beyond the emotionally illiterate world of online “like” buttons. If you see, via Facebook or other platforms, that a friend has done something interesting or has gone through something tough, like a family death, don’t just “like” their post or write a one-line comment. Phone them or Skype them and have a real human interaction.”

On personality, emotional labor, and surviving the holidays (Modern Mrs. Darcy)

In the podcast, Cain explains that introverts can be extremely, genuinely social—even for long periods of time—and enjoy being so. But for true introverts, putting on this extroverted front over a period of days or weeks is exhausting.

This phenomenon has a name: it’s called “emotional labor,” and it’s what you experience any time you project (or, to put it not-so-nicely, fake) an emotion or attitude that doesn’t come easily.”

Brene Brown: The Anatomy of Trust (Supersoul.tv)

“Trust is built in the smallest of moments.”

A very powerful talk about cultivating self-love and self-respect in order to build trusting connections with others.

Another quote from the speech that truly struck me: “I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves but say ‘I love you.'” (Maya Angelou)

Nov29a
My most recent quick knitting project, completed in about an hour yesterday, enjoying a cozy spot on the small Christmas tree decorated by Wanderlust Juniors.

Current Listening Material:

Enya – Dark Sky Island

I have been a big fan of Enya’s music since I first heard The Celts in the early 90s. Enya’s music continues to accompany me through joyful times and difficult situations. Most recently, while saying goodbye to our cat Meeshu, the veterinary clinic played The Celts album in the room where Meeshu and I shared a few final moments together. I am delighted with the new album and glad to find the music consistent with Enya’s previous material.

Enya – And Winter Came

This is a Christmas season staple for me.

Loreena McKennitt is another of my favourite musicians and this is a beautiful collection of older, traditional Christmas songs.
Nov29b
Currently on My Nightstand:
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Enjoying the beautiful Christmas Market in Toronto last weekend.

Observing and Trying: Writing Inspiration from Kate Morton

DSCN0099This evening, I drove to Uxbridge, a small community northeast of Toronto, to meet and listen to one of my favourite authors, Kate Morton. I was first introduced to Morton’s work several years ago while on maternity leave with the littlest Wanderlust Junior. I asked friends for book recommendations and one of them shared with me a copy of The Forgotten Garden. I devoured the book in under a week, reading during nap times and after the kids had gone to bed for the night. I had stepped into a fairy tale the likes of which I used to step into and become lost for hours. I felt a profound connection with the character of Eliza and allowed myself to wander through the idyllic English countryside.

In turn, I introduced my mother-in-law to Morton’s words and together we read and discussed The House at Riverton, The Distant Hours and The Secret Keeper. The Secret Keeper is my favourite book of Morton’s yet, though all the reviews I have read swear that The Lake House, the newest brilliant work, is her best yet. I can’t believe I held out this long before getting my hands on my copy, but I’m glad that the copy I have was signed for me.

During the interview, the beautifully charming author candidly and lightheartedly talked about how much she enjoys plotting the story line, scribbling away in her notebooks, as well as the editing process and its multiple layers, through which the story becomes polished to its final presentation. She revealed that the part of actually sitting down to write the story can sometimes be challenging as she seeks the right words to describe certain profound feelings of the characters or works to illustrate on paper a picture she holds in her mind.

DSCN0101“All good writers are observers, whether they are introverts or extroverts.” She spoke about the images that inspire her stories, including the shapes of the sewage drains on the streets of London on which her eyes rest during a daily walk. I speak and write frequently about the importance of maintaining an attitude of curiosity and in fact, I believe that writers need to be both mindful of the environment around them and also able to ask questions that will shape stories about the objects and people they encounter.

During the audience question period, I asked Ms. Morton how she overcomes the challenge of transforming feelings and images onto the page when words refuse to come or sound utterly flat. Her answer: Get the first draft done but don’t give up afterward. Continue reworking it, polishing, editing.

When it was my turn to have my new book signed, she smiled at me warmly.

“Do you write?” she asked.

“I try,” I giggled nervously.

“I think that’s true for everyone,” she assured me.

All I can do is continue trying. The inspiration is always there, the story ready to reveal itself to the curious observer.

Have you read The Lake House or any of Kate Morton’s other books? Please leave a comment to share your insights with me and other readers (no spoilers, please).

Do you know someone who loves Ms. Morton’s stories as much as I do? They might enjoy this blog post, so please feel free to share it via email or social media. 

Favourites for the Weekend ~ May 15, 2015

In Canada, we are preparing for the Victoria Day long weekend, also known as the unofficial start of summer. Like many others, we are looking forward to barbecues, de-cluttering our crawl space, and making some time to sit back and read.

Speaking of reading, Anne of Modern Mrs. Darcy, who has the impeccable taste in books of Kathleen Kelly of You’ve Got Mail, has just released her 2015 Summer Reading Guide. This is *the* comprehensive guide for excellent books appropriate for a beach and/or cottage vacation, as well as for bringing along on a trip anywhere in the world. I trust Anne’s book recommendations and after consulting this guide, my list of Books to Read has grown a little longer. I’m currently reading Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin — also one of Modern Mrs. Darcy’s recommended books — and enjoying it immensely.

À propos Kathleen Kelly, there have been many times when, after an annual viewing of You’ve Got Mail, I wished that she were a real person. We are kindred spirits, what with our mutual adoration of words, Jane Austen and literature, in general, as well as a love of independent book stores, Joni Mitchell, and butterflies… I know I’m not the only one who feels this way about Kathleen Kelly. Right?

And finally, here is our big announcement!

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Today, on May 15th, we are celebrating the birthday of our Chief Woodworker and creative mastermind. In honour of Pawel’s birthday, we would like to offer you a 30% discount on all items in our online store. In addition, every order of over $100 will be shipped to you anywhere in the world for FREE. That’s right, a sale and free shipping! We are also introducing loyalty points, which you will receive with every purchase, to be applied toward any future purchases.

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To take advantage of this offer, head to our online store and use the coupon code ‘HappyBDAY’ at checkout. We will extend the celebration for a few days, but the offer is only available for a limited time.

Thank you for your support! Please continue to share our blog with your friends and feel free to subscribe to all our updates by entering your email address in the box to the right.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!