Which Mountain Do You Want to Climb?

Which Mountain Do You Want to Climb?

Which Mountain Do You Want to Climb?

Those of you who know me know that I have a passion for adventure…and climbing mountains. I’ve climbed Mount Kilimanjaro three times, and this year, I’m preparing to climb it for the fourth. But this time, it won’t just be my journey; I want to take four Landing Strong community members with me.

The mountain has taught me many lessons, but perhaps the most important one is this: the summit isn’t the point. The real transformation happens long before you reach the peak. It happens in the training.

Climbing a mountain is not simply about fitness. It’s about shifting how we see ourselves; learning to let go of the limiting beliefs that whisper we’re not strong enough, not resilient enough, not ready.

The first time I prepared for Kilimanjaro, I didn’t actually climb it. My role was to lead the community service portion of the trip. Yet the months of preparation changed me. My husband and daughter summited that year. I remember watching my 12 year old daughter’s strength and determination. After they completed the climb, she told me I was capable, even when I didn’t fully believe it myself. And she was right. Sometimes we need someone else to hold the vision of who we might become until we are ready to see it ourselves.

So I offer you this question: which mountain do you want to climb this year?
Maybe it’s Kilimanjaro. Maybe it’s something closer to home. The climb might be a literal peak or a personal one. What matters is that you choose to begin, and that you’re willing to train; not just your body, but your heart, mind, and spirit.

This March, we will travel to Tanzania. Together we’ll spend a week on safari, a week doing community service, and a week on Mount Kilimanjaro. Our community service project this year is close to my heart: building a girls’ dormitory so that young women can safely pursue their high school education. The training begins soon, and it will require commitment, consistency, and courage.

This journey is led by my husband Joe Seagram, in partnership with King’s Edgehill School and Summits Africa.  It is alcohol-free, smoke-free and cannabis-free (cannabis is not legal in Tanzania). Because we will be traveling with King’s-Edgehill School, we’ll be in the company of incredible high school students.

Here’s how you can join us:

  • If you’re interested in being one of the four Landing Strong community members making the climb, please reach out to us directly at info@landingstrong.com
  • If you’d like to be part of the virtual training program and train alongside us from home, keep an eye on your inbox—we’ll be sending details very soon.

The summit may be a breathtaking moment—but it is not the goal. The goal is to discover what we are capable of along the way.

So I ask you again: which mountain do you want to climb?

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

When freedom meets responsibility

When freedom meets responsibility

When Freedom Meets Responsibility

I’ve always found my deepest sense of calm in the woods; it’s my sanctuary. So when the recent restrictions came into effect, limiting access to forested trails, I felt a surge of frustration. It seemed unnecessary, even intrusive, as though a small but important freedom was being taken from me.

A few days ago, while walking the Blockhouse Loop I spotted a man standing over dry grass, cigarette in hand. Ashes dropped onto the tinder-dry vegetation at his feet. I felt a spike of alarm. I approached him gently, asking him to move to the paved area, pointing out the risk of fire and our shared responsibility to take extra care. He laughed, smiled, and thankfully, complied.

It was after this moment that my perspective shifted. Common sense I realized, isn’t always common. Sometimes restrictions exist because not everyone takes precautions on their own. Rather than being resentful I now hold deep respect for those tasked with maintaining safety for all.

My gratitude extends too, to the first responders working tirelessly to contain the wildfires sweeping our provinces. The few hours of smoke we inhaled last Saturday were but the faintest hint of what they endure daily.

Freedom I’ve learned isn’t only about what I want. It’s about choosing care for the greater good.

We’re currently filling two great group programs, and fall is the perfect time to join us.  We have Identity & Transition coming up on Fridays September 19, 26, October 3, 10, 17.  We also are loading up our popular Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction program September 9th, 16th, 23rd, October 2nd (Thursday), 7th, 14th, 21st, 28th. (945am to noon)
Optional 3-hour retreat Nov 4th. (9 to noon)

Contact Julie to learn more and to get on the list! 902-472-2972 or info@landingstrong.com 

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

Finding our way together

Finding our way together

Finding our way together

The other day was incredibly hot. Joe was out of town, so I found myself in charge of our three dogs. Normally, on days like this, we’d head to Grey Mountain to let them cool off in the river.

“I can do this,” I thought to myself, even though I have absolutely zero sense of direction.

We made our way up the mountain, and just as we started, the sky opened into a sudden, freak thunderstorm. The first part of the trail went smoothly, and feeling braver than usual, I decided to try a second loop.

Big mistake.

Within minutes, I was turned around, completely soaked, and had no idea where I was. After ninety minutes wandering in rain-drenched clothes, with poor 13-year-old Nara struggling to keep up, I began imagining what I might need to do if we were stuck out there overnight.

Then, by sheer luck, a chance turn brought me back to the right road, and there was my car, appearing from the opposite direction than I’d expected. Relief washed over me.

Reflecting back, it struck me how tempting it is to tell ourselves we can handle things alone. And often, we can. But that doesn’t always mean it’s the wisest, or kindest choice.

Trauma recovery isn’t so different. Just because you can try to navigate it by yourself doesn’t mean you should.

There’s strength in reaching out. In choosing to walk the trail alongside others who understand the twists and turns.

At Landing Strong, that’s exactly what we’re here for: to help you find your way, even when the path feels unclear.

You don’t have to do it alone. And truly, you were never meant to.

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

Rooted together

Rooted together

Rooted together

Sometimes it can feel like there isn’t much solid ground beneath us. Life’s challenges can leave us feeling shaky and unsure of our footing. But the truth is, we’re often more grounded than we realize.

Like the trees that weather even the fiercest storms, we’re hardwired for resilience. It’s in our nature.

At Landing Strong, we chose our name intentionally. A single tree standing alone is vulnerable to the elements. But a stand of trees? Together, they shelter and protect each other, buffering against adversity. It’s the strength of connection that makes the difference.

So, ask yourself: Are you standing alone right now?

We’d love for you to join us. In fact, we’re quite literally climbing trees together! Our second annual Family Day at Ontree Adventure Park is just around the corner, followed by a shared lunch at Bent Ridge.

Come be part of the forest. Find shelter, strength, and a little adventure with us!   

Please contact Julie to sign up: info@landingstrong.com or 902-472-2972. 

 

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

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

 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

 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

When enough is enough

When enough is enough

 When enough is enough

Driving recently, a burst of colour caught my eye, vibrant purple lupins lining the edge of the highway. At first glance, they were stunning. Tall, elegant, and wild. But as I looked closer, I remembered: lupins are invasive. Left unchecked, they crowd out native plants and throw entire ecosystems off balance.

It struck me how often this happens in life, something beautiful, enjoyable, or comforting becomes harmful when it grows beyond its proper place.

Substances are an obvious example. Alcohol or cannabis may offer short-term relief. They ease discomfort, calm nerves, help us unwind. But if they begin to take up more space than they should, if we lean on them too often they start to take more than they give. Like the lupins, they spread quietly, until one day we realize our internal landscape feels crowded, overrun.

Even things like work, social media, or exercise, all potentially positive, can become too much. More is not always better. It’s about balance, not abundance.

At Landing Strong, we encourage thoughtful awareness: What in your life is nourishing? What feels good now but might lead to harm if left unchecked? And what do you want to cultivate more intentionally?

We always have a choice. We can admire the lupins for their beauty and still commit to protecting the health of the whole field.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

Spaces that soothe

Spaces that soothe

 Spaces that soothe

I recently visited the Purdy Crawford Centre for the Arts in Sackville, New Brunswick, and found myself unexpectedly moved by the student lounge. It wasn’t extravagant or flashy…quite the opposite. The space was calm, inviting. What caught my attention most were the pillows: textured, varied in shape and weight, clearly chosen with intention. They weren’t just decorative. They were designed to soothe.

In a setting where students often carry the weight of deadlines, expectations, and social demands, this space offered quiet reassurance. It said, You belong. You’re allowed to rest here.

It made me reflect on the environments we create, for ourselves and others. So often, we power through our days without noticing the subtle stressors in our surroundings. Noise, clutter, harsh lighting, or even the absence of softness can wear on us over time. But what if we thought differently? What if we gave ourselves permission to design spaces, physical and emotional, that comfort and calm us?

At Landing Strong, we talk a lot about self-regulation and nervous system care. But it isn’t just about internal coping strategies. It’s also about our external world: the textures, sounds, and settings that either support or strain us.

The student lounge reminded me that caring for ourselves doesn’t need to be complex. Sometimes it starts with a soft pillow, a quiet corner, or the courage to make room for calm.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong