Rooted together
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Rooted together |
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Warmly,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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Rooted together |
|
Warmly,
![]()
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
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,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
Beauty is a form of resistance
The world feels heavy lately.
It’s easy to get swept up in the noise: the grief, injustice, and constant stream of bad news. As people who care deeply, we want to stay aware. But there’s a difference between being informed and being overwhelmed. And when we lose our footing, it becomes harder to show up for others in the way we want to.
A recent walk through a waterfowl park in Sackville N.B. reminded me of this. The world hadn’t changed, but something within me had. The air was quiet. A heron skimmed the water. Blackbirds rose from the reeds in a flurry of wings and song. For a moment, I was still. And I remembered: beauty heals.
At Landing Strong, we often speak about the importance of grounding. That process doesn’t always come from deep internal work. Sometimes, it starts with stepping outside, softening our gaze, and noticing what’s good. The natural world has a way of reminding us that peace is possible, even when things feel chaotic.
Seeking out beauty isn’t indulgent. It’s essential. It reminds us of what’s worth holding onto. It helps us breathe more deeply, listen more fully, and lead with compassion instead of reactivity.
So, if the world feels too loud today, go outside. Notice the breeze. Watch the trees move. Find something beautiful, however small, and let it anchor you. The steadier we are within ourselves, the better we are for others.
Warmly,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
Celebrating our Community
How do we possibly begin to tell you how wonderful the Artisanal Fair was?
Last Friday we held an event to celebrate our Landing Strong community. The celebration began by highlighting the community contribution of our Landing Strong members, as they were awarded coins for their efforts in making our world a safer place.
Serenaded by veteran and first responder musicians, we enjoyed Chef Randi’s delectable treats as we toured eighteen tables that formed our Artisanal Fair.
Reading the Artist’s Statements, and viewing their creative works, it was impossible not to see the beautiful forms that recovery can take.
The event created a feeling, that is difficult to explain through words. Instead, we are sharing a photos and clips of music so that you can appreciate just how special the day really was.
A big shout out to all those who made this day a resounding success. Whether you were an exhibitor, a greeter, a planner, or assisted with setup and take down, it was a fantastic, combined effort.
We appreciate each and every one of you.
Warmly,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
Apple or booty?
Is it just me, or does this apple look like someone’s backside?
Sometimes, things don’t always look the way we expect. It can all be a matter of perspective.
When people think of PTSD they may imagine forlorn faces, anxiety and isolation. Yes, it sometimes looks like that, but anyone that comes to our programs knows that recovery often takes the form of connection, laughter, creativity and hope.
How many times have I heard raucous laughter erupting from the group room, or witnessed people proudly showing off their creations at Maker’s Studio?
It may feel like the best way to stay safe is to stay at home, but we know from experience that the opposite is true.
We look forward to seeing you Friday June 13th for our Recognition Celebration, and first-ever Artisanal Fair. Come enjoy the creative talents of our Landing Strong community. We hope you will join us.
Warmly,
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Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong