Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services, 804 Ontario Street Unit C11, Stratford, ON (2026)

08/01/2026

EXIT

At the moment of the entrance, in the space of a few seconds before the introductions, when you walk into the dying person’s
room – someone you don't know, who is going to get their “affairs” in order – there is a profound sense of respect. The word ‘bravery’ also comes to mind, but it is not accurate. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps the space simply feels more pregnant with truth than bravery. Nevertheless – there’s a strange discrepancy between those who aren’t actively dying and are wise enough to get their end-of-life wishes squared away and those who know that they are. They’re acutely aware that they have crested the hill. The view is finite.

There are times in my life that offer such profundity, and this is one of them. I smile, I apologize that I’m taking up their precious time because I’m fully aware that had it not been for their dying, I would not be there, and any meeting would have been a pleasant accident. I’m grateful for their graciousness more often than not, because their graciousness surpasses any sense of self-pity. Indeed, there is a feeling in the air sometimes, of a generosity of spirit.

This is part of my job. A unique situation, that in all honesty, is raw and one of the greatest privileges in my world. One looks into the eyes of inevitability. One hears words of resignation and gratitude. Rarely, at this point, is anger present – and I sense the thin translucent membrane around me, as brief. Sometimes, stories flow and regrets and triumphs are unveiled. And after hundreds of these gracious encounters, I’m privileged to keep what is often hidden from oneself through our daily filters and overt denials, close at heart – the awakening truth that we are all in our own unique ways, actively dying.

These moments spent with certainty are sobering to say the least. They’re gifts of a sort, and unlike many who include themselves as one of the goodly-hearted throng of humanity, there are a few who include the inevitability of their mortality within the course of a working day, whether in a service profession such as I am, or not. Largely, beyond the services I provide, it is this closeness to our shared humanity that caused me, long ago, to ponder and subsequently become, a funeral director. Therefore, and perhaps as a result of this insight – the best conversations for me are not the one’s concerning the weather, but the one’s concerning our complexity and our “oneness.” Nothing is more unifying than our shared fragility, and nothing is more interesting than the myriad views we have from the great many cultural mountains that have shaped us.

It is the recognition of that mortality that binds us at the base, holds us, dreamily, gazing up at the stars to wonder about ourselves. But in the immediacy and intimacy of the work at hand in that room – it is all about them. In all appearances, things are funneling into a conclusion, and the tendrils of what will be left behind become the dream of a lifetime, wrapped in memory for both the living and the dying, shrouded in the tangled emotions of all that is shared and must come to an end, often within those four walls.

How can one not be humbled? The simple offer of a cup of tea at these times is enough to make one feel such gratitude through their concern for my possible and petty needs. And there are encounters that remain in the psyche; that is clear, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this now – filaments of feeling with loose pictures attached, in stories that were told to me, situations that rang true to my own. More graciousness heaped upon the hour – but nothing greater than the immediate story in the here and the now. This very one... about me being in the room with them, and them offering me a cup of tea, and me witnessing an hour or so out of their days or weeks of “goodbye” to all that they have known. That’s what I will remember after my encounter with the dying – not their stories so much. I didn’t live those. What I take away is the “feel” of them. A sense of how much they loved or didn’t love, what the contribution was, whether gratitude exists.

And I desperately want gratitude to exist! When I go, I would like to be satisfied with myself – my behaviour, my actions, my contribution. I want to have emptied myself out so to speak. Spent myself. I’ll be leaving after all, so why would I want to hold onto anything. I want to let it all go, freely in gratitude.

That is how I wish for them to feel too. Let it go. Let it all go. Untie the mind from all things to which the ego clings. Become untethered. And that is precisely why my questions are mundane and irrelevant. The proper full name. The social insurance number. The date of birth. By the time this information is read by anyone but me, they will be free of it. And that is also why I underscore our meeting on an understanding, that they know that I know; they are so much more than the answers given.

Yes – the real job is the presence and the look into the eye of truth. And sometimes, the polite etiquette and the weightiness of the meeting is dismantled, and it too is thrown out the window for the easy gesture of fellowship when my time in their company is done – the fist pump, the peace sign, the knowing smile, or the open palm into which I place my hand and I can walk out into the sunshine with a smile and a lighter heart.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

07/31/2026

NANCY "NAN" JEAN MAYNARD
March 1938 - July, 2026

Our Mom and dear friend, Nan Maynard (née Leach), died peacefully, with family by her side, at 88, on July 13, 2026 at University Hospital, London ON.

Beloved wife of Dr. Malcolm Douglas (Doug) Maynard (d.2001). Loving mother to Matthew (partner Brenda); Mark (d.2001) (partner Sharon); Laurie (partner André); Paul (d.1991); and devoted Grandma Nan to Austen (partner Jessica), Coulton, and Mackenzie. Nan was born March 6, 1938 in Chatham ON. Loving daughter of Esther (Truax) and Frederick “Fred” Leach, sister of Robert “Bob” (d.2015) and Marilyn (d.2005) Leach, Annemarie (d.2024) and Doug Butzer, sister-in-law to Donald “Don” (d.2009) and Loretta Maynard, and much-loved aunt to nine (Leach, Butzer, and Wilson) nieces and nephews. Cherished second mother, godmother and grandma to Patrice Celotto-Levesque (d.2019), Judy Simmons (d.2024), Vanessa Simmons Rommens, Shelby Lee, Sasha Lee-Campbell, Charlotte Campbell, Rachel Simmons Peters, and Skylar Lee.

Nan taught by example: kind, generous, strong, fun, curious, compassionate, creative, a tireless caregiver with a smart, dry wit. She always danced to the music. Nan was interested in people, building connections and community. Her home was always welcoming, and she cherished times with family and friends around her table. She had a knack for making people feel special.

Nan and Doug were instrumental in establishing the Southwestern Ontario Hemophilia organization, and worked with families, healthcare and volunteers to raise awareness and foster support for those with hereditary bleeding disorders.

A Celebration of Life will be held in fall of 2026.

In memory of Nan, please consider becoming a blood donor (https://www.blood.ca) or making a donation to Hemophilia Ontario (camp fund), My Sisters’ Place (https://cmhatv.ca/ways-to-give/ways-to-give-msp/) or any charity close to your heart through Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services. 804 Ontario St., Stratford, ON. N5A 3K1. 519-271-5062.

Thank you to all the staff at University Hospital for your excellent care and compassion. Thank you to the staff and volunteers at AgeCare London for your care and support for the important things - respect, friendship, compassion and humour - at every stage of life. You’ve all made the hard times easier.

We miss you, Mom. We love you a bushel and a peck. And a hug around the neck.

07/28/2026

About a pre-paid funeral arrangement:

A pre-paid funeral is NOT LOCKED into the funeral home with which it was made. It is easily transferred to any funeral home you wish to use, for whatever reason. So, if you move to another town or city, or most of the family has re-located elsewhere, etc… it is still recognized. Just let the NEW funeral home you will be using know WHAT your wishes are and WHERE they are.

07/23/2026

THOMAS GEORGE WEBER
June 1952 - July 2026

It is with heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Tom Weber, who passed away peacefully on July 21, 2026, at the age of 74 surrounded by his family at the Stratford General Hospital.

Born on June 2, 1952, in Stratford, Ontario, Tom spent his life building lasting friendships, cherishing family, and enjoying the simple pleasures that brought people together. He will be remembered for his warm personality, quick smile, and his quiet, gentle demeanor. He was never happier than when building memories through laughter and good company with friends and family.

Before retiring, Tom dedicated 22 years of service to Schaeffler Canada, where he was respected by colleagues and friends alike. In his younger years, Tom was a multi-talented athlete who excelled in many sports. He had a lifelong passion for athletics, especially soccer, and always loved reliving his days from his beloved F.A.G. Team. He was also an avid sports fan who seldom missed the opportunity to watch a game.

Tom leaves behind his loving family, including his sons Brad Weber (Jenny) and Jesse Weber (Angie). He was a proud grandfather to Coleton, Hannah, Blake, Corinthia, and Milo. He is also survived by his sister Mary Carter (Steve); his brother-in-law George Raycraft (Sandy); sister-in-law Cindy Friedt; and his former wife Heather Van Kooten, along with many extended family members and dear friends.

Tom was predeceased by his parents, George and Marjorie Weber; his sisters Patricia Raycraft and Cindy Willemsen; his brother Fred Weber and brother in laws Gerry Willemsen; and Gerry Camden.

Tom's family and friends will remember him for his kindness, sense of humour, competitive spirit, and unwavering appreciation for the people in his life. The memories he created and the friendships he nurtured will be treasured forever.

Friends and relatives are invited to celebrate Tom’s life on Saturday, August 8, 2026, from 3:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. at the Army, Navy & Air Force Veterans Hall (ANAF), 151 Lorne Avenue East, Stratford, Ontario, N5A 2N9.

As expressions of sympathy, donations in Tom’s memory may be made to Stratford General Hospital Foundation (sghfoundation.org) directly, or through Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services, 804 Ontario St., Stratford, ON. N5A 3K1. 519-271-5062.

Forever loved, deeply missed, and fondly remembered. In Tom’s words from his final days: “We’ve got good memories and that’s really what keeps the soul alive”.

07/20/2026

CONTAINMENTS

Oh – the spongy, unrestricted and magnificent mind of a child! I recall the fantasies of youth that sprouted their sensational inspirations out of the boredom of a day with only a television set as company – and that, controlled by Mom and Dad, or Oma, after school.

As a young boy, the first books I ever read were science fiction novels from my parents’ extensive collection. One in particular, sparked me – about an existence where people lived under a gigantic unseen and climate controlled geodesic dome due to the pollution outside of it. That book stayed with me and began to haunt my impressionable mind. The notion that “outside” may not really be outside began to seep in as light through a pinhole – conjuring thoughts of our universe, arbitrary ideas about time and space and the confines of neighbourhood, country, continent and planet.

I began to wonder: how do we really know if we’re outside? Does simply leaving the house entail all it means to be “out?” And if anyone could be beyond the outside, would that be what some would reflect on as God? Maybe we’re all simply existing under a dome that we cannot see, as in that novel, on a cosmic table whereupon someone need merely raise the platter up to the stars and lift the lid for us all to be free.

This thought of “outside” and where it is, entangled itself into my notion of freedom somehow, and through adolescent wonderings, started threading its way into observations of what humanity does to itself. It was a feeling at first. Maybe from a sense of some wrongdoing I carried out upon someone or a remembrance of a hurt someone inflicted upon me. Regardless of how it began I became acutely aware of us having to live with one another. I began to recognize the many ways in which we place ourselves in confinement – through hatred and prejudice, through wealth, through decisions and situations that didn’t have to be – and from that, I caught glimpses of escape through the realization of a growing insinuation of common energy, that emanated from myself and everyone else around me – all of us tied to the same core – hearts beating in and out of rhythm, but still all from the same source. All these lives under the same “dome” of existence. And then I felt a new sense. Something akin to freedom at those rare times when you feel its majestic force and realize that you are, to some degree, a free agent within it.

So, I knew I could be free in my own life, despite all the trappings of society – the laws, the rules, the appropriate behaviours. But I didn’t know how, and I couldn’t explain why I knew that. Something about the concept of autonomy and freedom being sustained in the mind.

And while adolescence was a wild ride of hormones and discovery and angst, there were the forces of family to contain the soul when the will dared stretch out into the world beyond – yawning out the comforting safety of home and breathing in the dangerous electrified air outside. Somewhere beyond neighbourhood, over those childhood years, some of us eagerly moved out into the unfamiliar world – as bold as we believed ourselves to be – we ventured as far as we dared. And there was some kind of freedom in that too. And joy, and rebellion. And sadly, for me, there was someone dear to me – a friend, who I could not speak of afterward, who never made it out of adolescence alive because he strayed too far. And I never came to know if his death was deliberate or accidental.

Nevertheless, at the time I stitched him and his memory into the sinews of my own threadbare safety net and said to myself, “look... this far and no further, lest you die too.” And I cried alone for a long time in places where no one could find me. And for many years after, I held my breath.

And as I grew, the desire for freedom outside turned to the desire for peace inside. And the containments of family and home emptied themselves of gravity, loosened their grip, became light. The need to discover new worlds then, turned inward where all things begin, all thoughts are watered, and all seeds sprout.

And then I saw clearly something I’d never thought of before... at the beginning of “my” time, “I” was not. But at birth, “I” became. Just as you did, dear reader. Something from nothing? No. Not nothing. An idea perhaps, from something beyond me. An action. A reaction. A flicker of light that turned possibility to certainty. That life force again. Something like liberty, except now I recognize it as being inside of me. Inside my mind. And I’m thinking about it and allowing it to form itself into words I understand that I could not fully understand in my youth – not just the word “freedom,” but “love,” “truth,” and “wisdom” too.

And what did I do then as I grew into adulthood with those words, after not really understanding the spaciousness of them within me for so long? After all the hurts, all the escapes and all the confinements thus far – I think on their meaning still, gently, and give them away freely, sure as I give them to myself. I let the words live inside and I live them out into the world, so those I meet know they may do the same – all of us, together. And then finally, miraculously – this happened – I sensed the truth of us all and began to breathe more easily again, knowing the earth is small. And in knowing it’s small, knowing instinctively, that our tiny lives of freedom are for ourselves, and also for each other.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

07/10/2026

ROBERT EDWARD LEEMING
January 1930 - July 2026

A LARGER-THAN-LIFE CHARACTER HAS JUST TAKEN HIS FINAL BOW.

Robert “Bob” Edward Leeming of Forest Road, RR4 Stratford, peacefully departed this realm at the age of 96, on Friday July 3, 2026.

Born the 28th day of January, 1930, in Toronto Ontario, Bob was the youngest of the four sons of the late Harry Horsfall Leeming and Gladys Leeming. Bob’s brother’s: Harry, Jack, and Ed, all predeceased him.

Following graduation in 1954, with a University of Toronto engineering degree, and as a Linebacker on the U of T Canadian Championship Varsity Blues Football team, Bob continued his Engineering studies on scholarship at the University of Munich. While in Europe Bob and his wife, Moira, married, vacationed, skied and worked at the parent plant of Fischer Automatische Gusstahlkugelfabrik (FAG) Bearings.

Upon their return to Canada in 1956, the newlyweds moved to Stratford, built their beloved house on Forest Road and raised 4 kids. Bob continued to work at FAG Stratford and in FAG Connecticut for another 37 years, retiring in 1992 as Group Vice President North America.

A multifaceted man, Bob will be remembered by his friends and family for many loud, slightly over the top, laughter filled gatherings and parties on Forest Road and for his ability to command a room and entertain with his repertoire of jokes, songs and theatrical stories and antics.

Bob was also known for his encyclopedic memory, spending much time reading, while listening at very high volume (to the chagrin of his kids), to hours of classical music. His favourite hobbies included spending long spring and summer days planting trees and tending to the various gardens on his property, always with his much loved and loyal dog by his side - or creating another over engineered bench or table in his wood shop work room.

Bob is predeceased by his very much missed wife, Moira and his granddaughter Jessica. Fondly remembered for his wit, humour and song. He is survived by his four children; Kim, Scott (Kim), Steven, David (Amanda), eight grandchildren: Erin, Lauren, Derek, Grant, Michael, Brittney, Shelby and Jackson, and two great grandchildren, Aubrey and Jack.

A private memorial service for family and friends will be held on July 20, 2026 at 11 am. at Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services, 804 Ontario St., Stratford, ON. 519-271-5062. A small informal gathering/reception will take place afterward.

The family wish to express a very heartfelt thank-you to Bob’s dear friends and caregivers: Jennifer, Jeremy, Joy, Al and Karen, who cared for and looked out for our dad in his final years. It was their kindness, care and love for our father and the way they treated dad with such dignity, respect, kindness and compassion that enabled him to remain in his beloved Forest Road property of 67 years until the end of his life’s journey. They will forever have the family’s gratitude and love.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests that memorial donations be made to the Stratford Perth Humane Society, an organization that Bob has supported from his heart for many years, or simply purchase a tree on this website for Bob, honouring one of Bob’s favourite pastimes, and in order to reforest the Canadian landscape.

07/09/2026

BURNETT JOHN LAWS
July 1942 - July 2026

Burnie passed away peacefully with his wife, Susan, beside him.

He is predeceased by his parents Caroline and Burnett Laws, parents-in-law Isabella and George Leslie, daughter Lauralynn Leslie Burney, brother Ronald (Darlene), and brother-in-law George Leslie. He is survived by son-in-law Robert Burney, grandson Colin Burney, Robert's brother Gregory Burney (Jovi) and their daughter Ashley Marie Burney, his sister Donna and brother-in-law James Holmes, as well as sisters-in-law Gaye Leslie and Irene Leslie. Also remembered by many nieces, nephews, grand-nieces and grand-nephews.

Before retiring to Stratford Burnie was a computer technologist for the City of Toronto. He enjoyed attending the theatre, playing tennis, cross-country skiing, skating and reading. Burnie was a member of the Avon Hiking Club, The Field Naturalists, Friends of the Library, Painting for Pleasure, and Plato's Cafe.

Burnie and Susan have travelled to Europe, the USA and many places in Canada.

A celebration of Burnie's life will be held at a later date.

The family wishes to thank the staff of the Stratford General Hospital for the care Burnie received. Donations in memory may be made to the Stratford General Hospital Foundation through Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services. 804 Ontario St., Stratford, ON. N5A 3K1. 519-271-5062.

07/04/2026

THE FINAL FRONTIER

Remember Star Trek? Space: the final frontier? That’s a fallacy. I know a place far more mysterious, sometimes unpredictable, and yet, oddly malleable – more so than outer space. The final frontier that really matters is within. It's always been within. It’s never been out there. Not during the Stone Age, not through the Bronze and Iron Ages – nor was it through the Classical Era, Middle Ages or into the Modern Era of human history. And still today, it is not outside of us.

Certainly, there are many frontiers, but the final frontier as somewhere other than ourselves is a myth. What we perceive outside of us is the physical world as sure as we are born into it and become a part of it. What is inside is everything else: the spirit, inspiration, wonder, the experience, and creation – the foundation of our perceptions, our happiness, our ability to change. In fact, there may never be a “final” frontier at all, only a series of many frontiers, met and navigated.

Humans have come a long way, trudging through the annals of time and recorded history. We can examine our lineage in galleries and museums, recount our deeds through magnificent invention, brave exploration, compassionate community and “glorious” bloodlust for God and country. We can project forward, onward and upward, dig into the soil and thrust ourselves towards the planets – but the invisible thread that binds us, stitches us all into the tapestry of humanity, originates from ourselves – our minds. That is the only frontier every single individual upon the planet shares through the act of living. Wish twere possible that our minds could come together more and see the bigger picture of our global predicament – to sink or to swim.

While the mind is the frontier of paramount importance, it is often the one overlooked or least self-examined. The achievements of human beings are self-evident, the consciousness of the achiever less so.

Indeed, every new idea or new happening that comes into our minds through the doors of our senses and enters the house that we have created for ourselves, comes in without knocking – and whatever event or thought it is, sits itself down in the middle of the room and says, “deal with me.” There it is! And so, everything we believe, all that we feel, all that we think and know – is all that we have as tools to welcome it or reject it, make friends with it or make enemies of it, expand our knowledge of it or stay uninformed of it.

Everything in the world of the human being, always and forever, is filtered through the brain. The body is the “house”. The mind is the “home.” It is what we do with what comes into that home that matters most. And when the home is in turmoil – the house is in turmoil.

Turmoil happens when there is a struggle between what one wants, thinks or feels, and what actually is. It’s a universal truth that if I want to understand a thing I don’t fully understand, I need to open my “home” even more than it is, expand the mind, and comprehend the current information. Likewise, with an emotion – if I want to feel loved, I need to show compassion. It isn’t a given. One thing begets another. What you give, so you will receive. And with confrontations? What then? With practice, one can stay in the relative calm of the emotional waters, while the tumultuous waves are rolling above on the surface – and this is the place of balance, where we can be unshakeable and clear – in the space one chooses to be in.

I don’t berate myself or another when I don’t have the thing I’m looking for. If I’m looking for harmony for example, I must act as if it is already within me – practicing peace and observing myself within my all too personal or narrow world view. Keeping myself as willingly open as possible. Growing into it. The mind first – the body follows.

And it can be so with almost everything within the frontier. I don’t want to be in turmoil. I want harmony. So, I know that the only way I can possibly water that seed is to train my mind to be patient and not immediately react or respond rashly with what I’m feeling in the haste of the moment. No one I’m interacting with will give me the harmony I seek. I need to do it for myself. They’re busy doing their own thing.

To practice standing still within the gap of what is and what I would like to create is a skill and a powerful stabilizer. And to be gentle with myself and willingly search out the seams of my own ignorance or prejudice of a thing is striving for wisdom. It is not a weakness or shameful. If I don’t do that, what I really want is nowhere in the room. What’s blossoming instead is avoidance and frustration without any long-term understanding of the battle within.

So, I practice, through each interaction, through situations that present themselves and actions that are carried out. Like a child in perpetual discovery – if I act out who it is I want to be in practice, I eventually become that person. If I flirt with different perspectives on things, I eventually open to greater understanding and feel less provoked. If I start every interaction as “friend,” then “enemy” becomes something I need to be convinced of and becomes harder to find. That’s good for everyone – especially if the enemy I’m struggling with is myself.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

06/25/2026

WHY NOT WONDERMENT?

In the lobby of the Tom Patterson theatre in Stratford, Ontario there are photographs of historical moments that have occurred on stage. Around these memories there is a painted frame by Les Harper, an indigenous artist, and a quote that says: “I had this dream, that I was born with a set of glasses on. I realized one day that these weren’t my glasses, and that I could have my own pair.”

Obviously, that quote comes from someone who was told at one time, how to view his world and specifically himself in it. Seeing in a particular way can be a prison we make for ourselves; but also, seeing can be freeing. The oddly wonderful thing about observation is that as soon as we see the thing, we think everyone else is seeing the exact same thing, and they’re not. In a mere fraction of a second the thing seen becomes painted in the colours of our disposition, shaped to fit the contours of our mind and then experienced based upon our conditioning. I never see what you see. You never see what I see. Our perception of that thing presented to us will be different.

Likewise, this is quite evident in the creative spaces of visual art, music, theatre and the written and spoken word. Creation is an expression of a need and never is the product of that need or the action in carrying it out, seen or appreciated in the same way by everyone experiencing it. Most often when it comes to artistic expression, we talk about it and share ideas – but not so much in social circles concerning ways of being or lifestyles? I suppose the thing apart from us, the thing created, feels more like neutral territory. It isn’t us – and so, easier to ask questions about or discuss an opinion over.

We don’t, however, merely create in artistic circles. Expression of oneself is a brave endeavor in any regard, and we express ourselves on so many levels, often without giving much thought (beyond how we dress) about what we are doing. What we think, how we act, how we use language, how we perceive the world around us. We ‘create’ ourselves and then, instead of wonderment, questions, and discovery – perceptions are hung on our names freely like garments – by ourselves – based upon how we would like others to see us – or by others – based upon their perception of us. This is inescapable. We want to be recognized. But rarely do we ask and want to discover about the other. We become the art objects that we create – the surface appearance – but without conversation and curiosity no one knows the depths of us and even more regrettably, neither, at times, do we.

At the intersection of perception and what is seen – where we recognize that we are making a judgement about another or even a judgement concerning ourselves, usually the place where our uneasiness shows – this is where the door should open. But often we set up a kind of us and them scenario. We start to feel disenfranchised. We might become fearful, threatened, confused, doubtful or angry, but nothing has been done to us. And our uncomfortable feelings allow us to blame or ridicule the other, or ourselves. Sometimes we simply shrug off that sense of discomfort. But there are moments where it might be best to convert that apprehension into curiosity if the situation allows.

A child is often unafraid to ask someone in a wheelchair why they are in the chair, opening conversation. The child is in that space of wonder and curiosity. But the adult has been conditioned not to be disrespectful or what they deem as inappropriate. In the adult world, it is often not what is said that offends, but how it is said. Most often, I find, a genuine curiosity comes through in the voice and questions are then welcome and understanding might ensue. People love to explain the ‘why’ of themselves.

Likewise, with so many things in life, there are areas where there is room for further consideration – the homeless we might abhor, the sexuality we don’t understand, the faith that is unlike our faith. Most often we react to these differences in ways that illustrate our anxiety and shut off avenues of compassion that could make us understand each other a little more or learn something new. And certainly, if we react to these gaps between us, or within ourselves, with antagonism, simply through what we perceive to be the truth – all we are doing is skirting around our own fear and our own weaknesses.

I try to live openly, but gently. Like anyone, I have had unfounded opinions about many things growing up – but as we grow in age and wisdom, hopefully, we loosen the things that keep us tethered and recognize these beliefs of ours and the restrictions they place on ourselves and others. Harmful to the general peacefulness within.

The face of wonder, curiosity and creativity is a good thing, and in a world that is moving towards greater diversity it would be silly to think that confrontation rather than curiosity is the way to go. It doesn’t mean we need to agree – but starting from wonder is a space where harmony can grow – with the things and the people seemingly so different from ourselves. Until this is realized, like the pappus of a dandelion – our unfounded judgements concerning us and them are blowing in the wind and setting seeds on the ignorance of the world.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services

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