Rooted together
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Rooted together |
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Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
The wisdom of knowing when to unplug
The wisdom of knowing when to unplug
Finding peace doesn’t always come easily. The world is noisy; full of opinions, obligations, and information overload. Shutting it out, even briefly, takes effort. It’s not passive. It’s a practice.
Even my new 9-week-old granddaughter Evelyn seems to sense this. When she’s had enough, she simply closes her eyes, shutting out the world. It’s remarkable, really. Long before she has words, she knows how to take space.
Lately, her parents have been test-driving a pair of sound-reducing headphones in preparation of an upcoming social gathering. They want to make sure she is not overwhelmed by the noise.
It makes me wonder: when do we give ourselves permission to unplug? Do we wait until we’re overwhelmed? Until irritability, fatigue, or sadness push us into retreat? Or can we begin noticing the signals earlier; the tightness in our chest, the mind that won’t stop spinning?
At Landing Strong, we often talk about learning to listen inward. The goal isn’t to escape life, but to create rhythms that allow us to stay grounded within it. That might mean a walk without your phone, a moment of stillness before the next conversation, or simply breathing before you respond. The challenge isn’t knowing we need peace. It’s allowing ourselves to seek it before we reach our limit.
Take a page from Evelyn’s book. When the world gets too loud, you’re allowed to soften your gaze, put on your metaphorical earphones, and rest.
It’s not too early to sign up for our Community Connections program Monday August 11th. Shawn from New Scotland Fly Rods will be guiding us on a fly-fishing excursion! Spaces are limited.
Please contact us to sign up: info@landingstrong.com or 902-472-2972
Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
We never really know what’s to come
We never really know what’s to come
Eighteen months ago, my 92-year-old father was told he likely had between two weeks and two months to live. At the time, we braced ourselves, quietly preparing for goodbye. But here we are, another summer unfolding, and happily he’s still with us.
Life for him is much simpler now. Though he can no longer hold a paintbrush, his artist’s eye remains beautifully intact. As I take him for slow strolls through the neighbourhood in his wheelchair, he soaks in the details: the deep blue of the hydrangeas, the dappled light through the trees, the subtle shifts of colour in the sky. His gaze lingers, noticing what many of us miss in our hurry.
He smiles kindly at passersby, waves hello to strangers, and sometimes when the noise of the world becomes too much, he quietly removes his hearing aid, choosing instead the peace of his own inner world. It’s not withdrawal; it’s discernment. A gentle choice to rest in stillness.
There’s something profoundly moving in witnessing how he navigates this time, not with fear or regret, but with gratitude. His presence reminds me that while we can’t control how long we have, we can choose how we show up each day.
There is a grace in how he has accepted life on life’s terms, no resistance, no panic. Just a deep, abiding appreciation for what is, rather than what might be.
There’s a lesson in that.
We often try to predict and plan, to carve certainty out of uncertainty. But life doesn’t follow our timelines or expectations. It offers both hardship and hope in unpredictable measure.
Whether you’re in a season of grief, healing, or quiet joy, may you find space to breathe deeply and take in the moment. None of us truly knows how much time we have, but there is beauty in the not knowing. Sometimes, the greatest gift is simply another summer.
It’s not too early to late to sign up for Community Connections Monday. We’ll have fun with a game or two of Disc Golf. No experience necessary.
Please contact Julie to sign up: info@landingstrong.com or 902-472-2972.
Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
Beauty against the backdrop
Beauty against the backdrop
Driving the other day, I noticed a small yellow butterfly resting on the gravel shoulder of the highway. It was fragile, bright, and impossibly delicate; a splash of colour against an unforgiving backdrop.
It struck me how much more beautiful it seemed because of where it landed. Had it been on a flower, I might not have noticed it at all. But there, against the dust and roughness, it stood out.
So often in life, it’s the contrast that gives things meaning. Joy feels deeper after sorrow. Stillness is more precious when we’ve known chaos. A moment of connection can feel profound when loneliness has lingered too long.
At Landing Strong, we witness this contrast daily. People arrive carrying the weight of trauma, moral injury, or deep exhaustion. And yet, we also witness moments of laughter, insight, and hope that are breathtaking — not in spite of the hardship, but because of it.
We don’t need perfect conditions to experience beauty. In fact, it often finds us in the unlikeliest of places; in gravel moments, in quiet resilience, in small signs that life is still unfolding with purpose.
If things feel hard right now, keep an eye out for your own yellow butterfly. Beauty isn’t gone. Sometimes it just takes a little contrast for us to truly see it.
It’s not too early to sign up for our Community Connections Monday July 28th. We’ll be trying our hand at Disc Golf at Clifton Estates. Please contact Julie to sign up: info@landingstrong.com or 902-472-2972.
Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
