Coaching With Horses: It’s Not About the Horse
As a coach, I often work with other coaches to get clear and stay connected to my bigger heart visions. I’ve been wanting to do some kind of coaching, to push me out of my comfort zone, to poke me in places where I’m feeling stuck, to identify some old patterns so that I can create new ones. But I didn’t want to do the same kind of talking coaching work that I usually do.
I had heard that coaching with horses can be a powerful way to learn things about yourself. It’s not about riding or horsemanship, but about interacting with the horse’s energy. So when a friend announced that she was facilitating an Equus Coaching Day just 45 minutes from home, I signed up.
I have very little experience with horses. I’ve gone horseback riding a handful of times but I’ve never been one to dream of horses. In fact, the only thing I knew about horses I learned just last year when the man that owns the hill next to Paradise Park got a new horse.
My then-neighbor Muriel showed me how to greet him at the fence. “If you hold your hand in a fist, the horse thinks it’s an apple. And if you point with your finger, he thinks it’s a carrot. So always approach with your palm open.”
And so I showed up for the day of Equus coaching with an open palm and an open heart. I had no expectations, no big fears, just a knowing that I would not be an expert, and that this was an opportunity to learn some really wonderful new things about myself.
There were ten of us, all women, sitting in a circle of camp chairs under the partial shade of some trees. I positioned my chair so I could see a pair of horse pens where two horses were nosing each other over the metal bars, whinnying back and forth and tossing their heads to shake off the flies. I could smell their strong horsiness as Beth and Kasia, the two facilitators, explained some basic horse information. That horses are easy prey and so they are always alert, that each eye sees independently, that right in front of their nose is a blind spot, and that their ears indicate where their attention is.
Kasia led us in a simple grounding exercise to get us in touch with our own energy. We stood in the grass and breathed into our bodies from our feet to our heads, eyes closed, feeling our breath, hearing the bird calls and the horses nickering.
“Remember how this feels,” Kasia said. Then we carried our chairs down to the two round pens for our first encounter with the horses.
Kasia entered one of the pens where a tall brown horse was casually walking around the edges of the pen. She held a 25-foot long nylon lead that was coiled up like a hose, with just the end unfurled. “First I’m going to ground myself, like we just did,” she said, “because the horse responds to my energy.” She stood in the center of the pen, tall and still and relaxed. The horse walked up to her.
“If you want to move the horse,” Kasia explained, “you get behind the horse. And you create energy.” She moved about six feet behind the horse and slapped the coiled end of the lead against her thigh. The horse raised his head. Both of his ears swiveled to her direction.
She slapped the lead again. The horse began walking away. “Energy moves from behind. If you stand in front of the horse, it blocks their energy.”
The horse walked along the perimeter of the pen. “And you want to visualize what you want the horse to do.” The horse continued circling the pen. “Now I want the horse to turn around and go in the other direction.”
It was like a ballet – she moved, the horse moved, there was no talking, no touching, just an energetic conversation and the horse turned and walked in the opposite direction.
And then it was our turn to spend some one-on-one time with a horse in a pen.
I walked into the round pen with Beth and she handed me a coiled lead with a shiny gold clip on the end. “Use this to create movement, energy,” she said, slapping her own lead against her thigh. The horse looked up, attentive. Beth walked behind the horse and the horse moved forward, a few feet at first, then easily around the pen. She did this a few more times, slapping, moving, talking me through.
“Are you ready to try it?” I walked into the center of the pen and Beth moved to the edge of the fence. The horse followed her, then sniffed the other participants sitting outside of the pen.
I slapped the lead against my thigh and the sound felt like a whip used to break a horse. I slapped it again and the horse did nothing. I walked around to get into his field of vision and he still ignored me. I felt invisible. Like no matter what I did, I’d never get it’s attention. And I started to cry.
Beth came over and I explained that crying was a good thing. She asked me what I was feeling. I shared that I felt invisible and she asked if I feel this in other places in my life. I thought about it but it didn’t resonate, so I said no. Then she asked me if I had a clear vision of what I wanted the horse to do. I checked in and no, I didn’t.
She asked me to stand still, and breathe, to ground myself in my own energy like we had done before. And then she hooked my arm around hers and we walked behind the horse’s right hip. Beth extended her free arm and slapped the lead against her thigh and the horse moved. We stepped further back and pivoted around and the horse did the same.
We stopped to talk and the horse, Jessie, stood with us. Her shoulders were just a little taller than mine, her coat a sleek brownish-black. She had white on three of her hooves and a swipe of white down the front of her face. Her dark eyes were right at my eye level. I scratched and stroked her neck as Beth reminded me to stay grounded in my own energy, be clear with my intention, and allow the horse enough space to move. “Create the image in your mind, then ask for it energetically.”
I stepped back into the center of the pen, held the coiled lead in my left hand and the clip end in my right and I closed my eyes. I grounded my feet in the dusty dirt of the pen and breathed space into my heart and torso.
Jessie slow-circled the edge of the pen and turned toward me. She bowed her head and tipped her ears in my direction. I moved to the right to get behind her, about six feet back, slapping the lead on my leg. She started walking in the desired direction and I moved forward with her.
“Stay behind her shoulders. You’re getting too far ahead,” Beth called from the fence. I stepped back, still slapping the coil to keep the horse moving. Several times I was too far forward and Jessie stopped, or turned.
Beth reminded me again that I needed to drop back, and then I knew it before she said it, and I was able to self-correct, staying further back behind the horse and still focusing my energy in the direction I wanted her to go. Jessie’s ears were perked in my direction, I was staying in position, and for a few minutes we were moving together.
It was awesome to feel that physical, palpable energy of intention and connection, to experience the power of being behind the horse to move her forward. It’s like anything I want in life. I need to get behind the idea, the desire, with excitement and energy in order to move it forward. Because if I stand in front of it, trying to pull it or force it, the energy gets blocked.
I sat in the shade and journaled while the other women took their turns in the round pen. I observed their movements, their hesitations, and listened as they worked through their own stories about goals and play and how they show up for others but not themselves.
After lunch we did a team activity to build on the skills we had practiced in the morning exercises. Each team of two would work together with a horse in the bigger arena with a simple obstacle course of areas for the horse to walk through, or around. Without speaking, we had to choose an obstacle and use what we had learned about the horse’s energy to move the horse through it.
The first team worked with a sweet, gentle horse. The women used their body language and the slapping of the training lead on their thighs to stir up some energy and move the horse around the arena. It took them a few tries to get the horse to go where they wanted, but you could tell that the women and the horse were having fun.
I volunteered to go next and Carol, a woman with many years of horse riding and horse facilitating experience agreed to be my partner. We walked into the arena, each of us holding our coiled lead. The trainer brought in a very tall black horse. Instead of casually entering the arena, he took off, galloping in circles, snorting and running full speed inside the fence line.
Beth asked if either one of us was experiencing any fear, and I checked in and I was totally fine. WOW!!! I was standing in the middle of the ring, grounded, holding space, not at all worried about this fast-moving horse, just thinking, wow, how wonderful it must feel to run like that.
Carol put her lead down and said “We’re not going to need these.” But I held onto mine. The horse finally settled down along the fence next to another horse’s pen and Carol stood in front of him, snapping her fingers. I didn’t understand why. It was exactly the opposite of what we had been taught earlier, that to stand in front of the horse blocks the energy. And because she and the horse were up against the fence, there was no place for the horse to go.
I put my lead on the ground and slowly walked toward them until I was about 10 feet out from the back of the horse, in the middle of the arena. I spread my arms in a T and felt like I was holding a buffer zone for the horse to move into. His ear turned toward me and he backed up slightly, then took off at full speed around the perimeter again.
I held my arms wide, my fingers spread, palms open and facing the horse. I slowly turning as he turned, staying connected with his pace, his movement, until he slowed down again. I was completely in tune with the horse, oblivious to Carol’s whistling and clapping attempts to get my attention.
She motioned for me to move behind the horse as she walked parallel to his neck, waving her hands to guide the horse toward our chosen obstacle. But she was too far forward, I knew, from my morning time in the round pen. And so of course, each time we had the horse almost lined up to walk between the posts, the horse ran through the open space between us.
Beth called us to the fence for some coaching. Carol looked at me and said, “you’re not doing what I’m asking you to do.” I said, “I don’t understand why you’re snapping your fingers in front of the horse.”
Beth talked about each of us standing in our own energy and bringing our best authentic selves, not trying to control the other person, but working with them. I shared that I felt like Carol thought I was doing it wrong, but that when I checked in with myself, yes, she may be the “expert,” but I knew that I was connecting with the horse, and with the energy. But, no, I wasn’t connected with Carol’s energy. And then Carol said, “You are just like my husband.” And then she was able to talk about what was really happening in the arena for her.
How wonderful that I could show up and help Carol see some things more clearly about her relationship. And how wonderful that I didn’t take it on as my own.
That, in that moment, I was able to see and feel how strongly I am connected to and standing in my own authentic self. That when I show up, confident, not necessarily in what I am doing, but in who I am, and I bring that energy to the moment, then I am full and light and powerful. Not power over anyone, but it’s as if I become part of the energy itself. And when I combine that with a clear and true intention, I can move horses.
But of course, it is not about the horse.
It is about how I respond and interact with the horse, with life. Am I trying to control it, force it, get ahead of it, or am I able to connect with and simply be with it, move with it, engaged, active, aware, with ease and flow and complete presence.
Carol and I walked back to the center of the arena. She acknowledged that she was working with me, not her husband, and I promised that I would look at her more so that we could work as a team.
The horse ran a few fast circles around the arena, then stood along the fence near the closest obstacle. I nodded in the direction of the wooden platform at the other end of the course and Carol moved behind the horse’s right side. I held my arms wide in the middle ground as Carol and the horse moved slowly around the fence toward the platform. I remembered to watch Carol, so when she pulled back, I pulled back too, opening up space for the horse to turn toward the obstacle. He was almost there, and then he ran through an opening in the energy zone and we had to start again.
I was hot and tired and it was hard to run in the dirt to keep up with the horse. On the third try we got him to run alongside the platform and I felt like we had accomplished enough. Carol and I high-fived each other, then joined the rest of the group so that the next pair could take their turn.
Later that evening, as I was going over the day, I went back to the question that Beth had asked me in the round pen when the horse wasn’t paying any attention to me.
She had asked me if there was somewhere in my life where the same feelings show up. My answer then was no, because I am usually in situations being and doing what is pretty easy and comfortable, where things literally come easily to me. But the deeper I connected with how it felt to be ignored, to NOT have the horse immediately respond, yes, I do sometimes feel like that in other places in my life.
But if I do what I did in the round pen, and begin by connecting with my own authentic self and my own energy, then I can envision what I want to create, and connect with it energetically.
It becomes less about controlling external things and all about connecting from the inside.
WOW! If you ever have the opportunity to do some coaching work with horses, I highly recommend it. Because sometimes we need to stretch into new places without words, so we can unravel the deeper stories we tell ourselves and reconnect with what is true and authentic and what we really desire.
[ssba]Return to Paradise
I’m settling into being back at the beach at the mobile home and RV Park I call Paradise Park. The sun rises an hour later here, so we’ve been sleeping in past 7:30. And that’s OK.
I’m finding my rhythm with the tides-when to walk on the beach, when to walk along the street above the cove that I call Hawk Walk, and when to hang out at home, in the cool of the air-conditioned RV.
And I am settling into why I am here and what I want to be focusing on over these next four months. Surprisingly, some ideas are popping and they are clear and obvious and easy first next steps: register the domain for ruthrdavis.com, gather a group of women for an in-depth 7 week Heart Sparks group, and go to Patti Digh’s Live is a Verb Camp later this month. When I realized how many of the people I engaged with during my trip were people I had met at her first camp 2 years ago, I knew I had to go. Because these are the kind of people, the kind of energy I want more of in my life.
If you looked at my bank accounts you’d probably question how I can spend all of this money right now. But there are two upcoming work things that are opportunities for sure big income, and, if this is what I am meant to do, then the money will come. And either way, there will be enough. It’s not hope, it’s faith. And due diligence. And me doing my part, my work. This week I have an in-person Mac client and I have opened registration for THE ORGANIZED MAC class, an online course to help folks feel more confident and empowered with their Apple technology.
And I’m staying open, noticing, paying attention to new to-do’s that arise, new clues, interesting signs on the road.
And we are walking. Every day, many times a day, either on the beach, or up the hills around Paradise Park, or we’re playing long ball across the street on kickball in our little patch of yard.
It is so good to be here, to hugs friends, to eat at Taco Temple, to breathe in such sweet, clean ocean air. People ask me how long I’m going to be here, and what I’m doing next. I tell them that I don’t know. And that I don’t need to know. I’m just right here, right now, breathing it all in and saying thank you!
[ssba]How to Find Fun
(This is a re-post from 2010 but, like with many things I re-read after some time has gone by, it was a great reminder about WHY I want to find the fun. I hope it reminds you of something, too. <3 Ruth)
You’ve heard the saying, “all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.” Well, last week I was in Florida to meet with my Mastermind group. It is two full days of intense coaching, talking, brainstorming, releasing, planning, growing work.
For past meetings I’ve always arrived a day early to acclimate to the weather and the time zone, but usually spent the time in my room, just hanging out. This time I wanted to do it differently. I wanted to have some FUN!
I have always wanted to canoe through the Everglades. So a few weeks before the trip I looked online and discovered that the marshy, boggy part of the Everglades was too far from Miami for an easy day trip. I was bummed. Disappointed. I couldn’t believe that I was so close to a dream and it wasn’t going to happen.
And then I stepped back and asked myself how ELSE I could do this, what other options might there be.
I googled again and found all kinds of tours to a closer area of the Everglades where, instead of canoes, they took you on an air boat through the tall grasses of the park. Suddenly I was excited again. I was going to get to the Everglades!
My friend and fellow Masterminder Anna was excited too. She is all about having fun! And so we took the tour bus from our hotel to Gator Park, one of the many tacky businesses along US 41 that take tourists on an air boat tour into the Everglades.
An air boat has a flat bottom so that it glides on top of the water. It is powered by a very loud engine that looks like a giant fan. (It’s the kind of boat they used in the TV show Flipper.)
We started out in the channel, gliding past beautiful water lilies and pond apple trees. Everyone on the boat had their cameras out, ready to snap a picture of an alligator in the water. We saw several, their eyes and snouts barely rising out of the water.
Out past the channels, the sky and the water opened up into a prairie of tall grass. As the boat powered across the water, flying over the tops of the grasses, I put in my earplugs and became one with the wind and weathering sky and the smells of the sweet grass.
I was so filled with joy for being where I was that I was crying. I was just so happy.
How do you find the fun? Please share in the Comments below!
[ssba]Treading Water
If all goes as planned, I will be back to the beach a week from today. Even though the RV is at the mechanic again. I had picked it up last Friday, all systems go. I drove city streets to the state’s emissions test center, then decided to take the freeway home. When I hit 65 mph I felt a slight hesitation, then the a/c stopped blowing cold. I didn’t hear any noises but I smelled something piney. I got home without incident and asked Marika to join me for a test drive. First we checked under the hood and that’s when we saw the belt on the ground, under the engine. I left a message at the mechanic and towed it back there on Monday morning.
He called Monday afternoon to tell me the a/c compressor had seized up, causing the belt to snap. He knows I am leaving town on Monday and I am at the top of the priority repair list.
Meanwhile, I’m not able to do any of the things I need to do to start getting ready because they are all inside the RV. Vacuuming. Cleaning the fridge. Checking the fridge to see why the shelf wasn’t draining. Fixing the loose screws. Washing my sheets. Gluing the table top back down. Tightening the swivel chair. Washing the windows. Packing my clothes, my food, my supplies.
And so it is a new practice (not a challenge, not a task, not a have to do) but a practice to stay right here right now, trusting that all will get done in time. And, Marika reminded me, I don’t have to do it all before I go. I can take care of some of these things once I am situated in my spot at the beach. She also pointed out that I can leave a day later and still be on schedule with my friend Sophie, who is driving my car up.
And so I am using the free afternoons to be quiet. To rest. To write. Because it is too hot to do anything else.
Yes, the weather is taking its toll. On Sunday morning I joined Marika and the dogs at the park. We were there by 6:45 and it was already 88 degrees and humid. And there was very little shade. The dogs tired fast, to the point of drooling and heavy panting. The air was so thick, and with my persisting cough, it was hard to breathe. Even the back of my t-shirt was wet from sweat.
The pool is the best blessing. Even when the water is bathtub hot, it is refreshing. I move slowly across the length of the pool, scissor-kicking or breast-stroking, or bicycle-pedaling. I float on my back and make water angels. And sometimes I tread water in the deep end.
I walk, suspended in the water, my arms turning circles at my sides so that I am standing but not moving. I shift my focus to my core, my legs, my body under the water line. Then I slow my movements so that I am still horizontal with my chin above the water, but I’m not exerting as much effort.
Treading water is not about being stuck. It is not the dictionary definition of “failure to advance or make progress.” Not at all. Treading water is a practice of maintaining balance and stability. Treading water is about building strength in stillness.
And that’s what I am doing as I wait to hear that the RV will be fixed and ready in time for me to leave on schedule. I know it will all work out as it is meant to. I continue to be grateful for the timing of everything and the people in my life who are helping me and supporting me on this journey.
How do you stay present? Please share in the comments below!
[ssba]Following the Light: How to Make a 5-Year Plan
(Note: I wrote this in September, 2010, five years ago. Seeing the life I have created since then, I know it’s because I committed to a plan.)
I was never one for having a long-term plan. When people asked “what are your goals for 5 years, 10 years?” I’d look at them blankly. I had no idea.
I would tell myself, I live in the moment, I can’t possibly know what I’ll be doing in 10 years.
And yet, in the deep of my heart, I DID have a vision of what I wanted to be doing, where I wanted to be living. I just never shared it.
Not even with myself.
Because some voice inside of me said that, if I wasn’t doing it NOW, then I must be a failure.
I only knew how to have short term goals. I didn’t know how to create a long term plan.
And so I tucked my secret dreams deep and away and continued to believe that the only long term goal I needed was to just be happy doing whatever I was doing.
And then, a few months ago, I went to New Jersey and spent a week at the beach in Cape May. I was so happy in the ocean air, watching the waves and the gulls, eating fresh seafood right off the boats. My heart felt so full.
And I realized how much I had been denying that this is what I want for my future. That I DO want something more than just being happy in the present moment.
When I got back home I knew I was ready to untuck my dreams of living on the Central California Coast and start to make a plan.
And it occurred to me that, this is exactly what a five-year plan is all about.
It’s NOT about doing it NOW.
A plan is about knowing where you are and where you want to be and using the time in between to discover how to get from here to there.
My big first step was realizing that I DID have a vision.
My second big step was reclaiming the dream and bringing it into my daily awareness.
Several years ago I had loaned all of my lighthouse paintings to a friend so that I wouldn’t be reminded of the ocean. But now I was eager to hang them prominently in my house. They no longer taunted me with longing, but now served as a beautiful visual reminder of where I am going to be living.
My third big step was sharing my dream. I started telling my friends, “I’m on a five-year plan to live at the beach.”
By naming and claiming it, suddenly there is noticeable movement toward this thing I most desire.
In fact, now that my mom has passed away, I’ve adjusted the time frame and now I’m on the two-year plan to live at the beach.
It feels possible. It feels real. And I KNOW it’s going to happen.
I don’t know all the things that I have to do between now and moving to make this happen, but I know that, if I stay focused and clear, each step will be revealed in time.
Because I’m planning for it. I’m committed. And I’m doing it, one step at a time.
So what is YOUR dream for yourself one year from now, five years from now, ten years from now?
1. Do you hold that dream in your consciousness?
2. Do you imagine what it will be like, feel like, taste like to be living this dream?
3. Do you share you dream with people, give voice to your vision?
3. Have you considered what you need to do today to make it happen in that time frame?
4. Do you have your one next step clearly defined?
Are you ready to commit to creating a plan for your future? Join me in September for the new Spark Your Heart, Ignite Your Life virtual gathering. Details coming soon.
I’d love to hear your dreams, your long-term plans. Give them a VOICE by sharing in the Comments below.
[ssba]How To Find The Work You Love, (Not Just a New Job)
Several of my clients are not happy at their jobs. They don’t feel appreciated. They don’t feel challenged. They don’t love the work.
They wish they were doing something more fulfilling, more exciting, more passionate.
And their first questions to me are, “Can you help me write my objective on my resume. Can you help me find a new job.”
And I ask them, are you looking for the same situation?
Because, unless we change the HOW and the WHY of what we are looking for, the WHAT will remain the same.
It’s so easy to just want a new job. To get out of here, to find a new, better there. But, unless you take the time to figure out what you’d really love to be doing, you’re going to end up in the same unsatisfying situation.
If you want a different outcome, you have to take a different approach.
I am not a career counselor. My job is not to help you find a job. My role is to help you get back in touch with your heart, your passion, to discover the work you are truly meant to do.
And it’s a process.
And it takes time.
One of the assignments I give my clients is to write a list of all the things they don’t like about their job. Then, on another piece of paper, they write everything they DO like about it.
It could be the actual work, the location, the hours, the people, what they wear, even the job title.
And then, on a third page, they begin to imagine their ideal work situation, incorporating what they don’t want, what they do want and what else they’ve secretly wished for.
By dissecting the “problem” they are able to see that there are aspects of the job that ARE working. This way, they have something positive to focus on as they begin the deeper work. It gives them small reasons to stay at this job that they hate while they are exploring what else might be possible.
And then the real work can begin.
I’ve been in business for myself, helping people love their Macs for 29 years. TWENTY NINE YEARS! Part of me is tired of the work, the chasing technology, the constant push to get new clients. And I thought I just wanted to be done with the whole business.
But when I made my lists, I learned that there are some things I LOVE about the work: the relationships with my clients, figuring out the odd problems, coming up with simple solutions so that they can work with more confidence and ease.
I also discovered the things I don’t like-the repetition of teaching the basics, sitting in one place for two hours, driving all over town. And so I am restructuring the services I offer so that I can still share my expertise and teach people the basics with my video trainings, and also enjoy the troubleshooting and personalized relationships through higher-level support options.
So where in your own life are you unhappy, dissatisfied, wishing for something more heart-centered? Are you so focused on these negative aspects that you aren’t able to see any good in the current situation?
I invite you to take out your own piece of paper and list everything about this situation that isn’t working for you. Then, on another paper, write everything that does bring you some sense of pleasure, satisfaction, pride.
And then, on a third page, give yourself permission to imagine your dream situation, where you feel fulfilled, appreciated, excited, thrilled to show up every day.
THIS is where you can begin to focus your attention.
THIS is how you begin to discover the work you are truly meant to be doing.
I’d love to hear your comments. Just click on Comments below to share.
[ssba]A New Road Home
After a gloriously relaxing week in the White Mountains of Arizona, playing Mexican train dominoes with friends, lunching out and sleeping in, Marika and I headed back to Phoenix early Friday morning. I left at 8:30 and she and Mabel stayed an hour longer to watch the birds in the trees.
It’s been years since I’ve driven the route from the northeastern part of the state to Phoenix. They’ve widened it to two easy lanes in each direction, separated in many places by the changing Arizona landscape. It was like a new road, a new way home.
Driving west along the 260, the sky above the Mogollon Rim was filled with going-to-be-storm clouds, fat and greying on the edges. The elevation was still above 6000 feet and I chugged up the steepest mountain passes, barely reaching 35mph as SUVs passed me going 65. Still, I was going faster than the semi-truck behind me.
I drove through Payson, a small mountain town that is now a congestion of fast food and traffic lights and housing developments. But the Beeline Café, famous for it’s pie and homestyle diner food is still there, tucked between an America’s Best Value motel and a Big O Tire.
Past town I turned south onto Highway 87, and continued my descent from the mountains to the valley. Pine trees turned to scrub oaks, green grasses morphed into golden brush as the landscape shifted from forest to desert.
I was thrilled by the patches of red earth peeking out of the rocks that lined the road, and the way the rocks looked like they had been intentionally stacked by ancient people. And then I saw the saguaros. At first there were just a few, standing like sentinels among the desert rocks. And then both sides of the road were filled with the two-armed cacti.
There was very little traffic going south on a Friday mid-morning. The sky was blue with fat white clouds and I was making good time. I got on the 202 in Mesa, drove through Tempe and South Scottsdale, past the airport in swift but not-yet congested traffic. I switched the air conditioner to MAX and smelled some kind of chemically odor, so I put it back to normal.
And then, just as I rounded the curve after 52nd St, my speed dropped from 65 to 45 mph. Pushing on the accelerator did nothing. Out loud I panicked, Where are the hazards! Where are the hazards? They weren’t on the dash like on my RAV4. I remembered the button was on the steering column and I pulled it while moving into the right lane. My speed was quickly dropping. I got a few yards past the on-ramp from the 143 and lost the power steering too.
Somehow I maneuvered the RV to the side of the road where there was just a slice of shoulder. I was just far enough beyond the on-ramp so that the merging cars could pass me without stopping traffic. And I had just enough room to open the RV door without hitting the concrete barrier.
OK, I said to Cody. We’re OK.
I opened the dinette window and the one behind the barrel chair, hoping for any kind of cross breeze. It was already 90° in the RV and now, with no cab air-conditioning, it was going to get very hot, very fast and the little portable fan wasn’t going to help much.
I called my friend Judy, who had just returned from her own camping trip and was, miraculously, available to come pick Cody up. I thought it would be less stressful for both of us if he was safe and cool, somewhere else. Then I called AAA. They said it would be an hour at the most before the long bed tow truck could get to me.
Then I called Marika. She was about 45 minutes behind me. I told her what happened, that she didn’t need to stop if she saw me, but could she could pick Cody up on her way to the house.
Then I peed, had some yogurt and cried. I kept going over what had happened, what could have happened. I was so grateful that I was able to get to a safe place without an accident.
I started to freak about what could be wrong, how much it might cost to repair, and what if I needed to come up with that new living option sooner than later.
The RV shook with each passing car. It was close to 100° now inside, but I kept drinking water, distracting myself by sharing what had happened with my Facebook friends. Several said that my angels were really taking care of me. Call it what you call it – I agree that some power bigger than me helped me to safety.
The tow truck driver called about twenty minutes later and said he was on his way. A DPS officer arrived and put up some cones to divert traffic and the tow driver, Pops, cinched my RV up on the bed of his truck while I waited in his air-conditioned cab. He towed it to Marika’s house because my usual RV mechanic retired and the new owners don’t work on motorhomes.
So, instead of living in the RV in Marika’s driveway, I moved into the room that was my office when I lived in the house. I inflated my queen-sized Aerobed and put Cody’s bed under my work table. We carried everything out of the RV refrigerator into the house fridge, brought in my single-cup coffee maker, and then Marika and I got in the pool.
The sky was overcast and darkening quickly as the storm that had followed us from the mountains was moving in. My body felt so happy in the water; loose, relaxed, completely unstressed.
What had happened with the RV was in the past. What I might need to do was in the future. But right then, in that moment, I was moving in water, the air was cool, the sun was hidden and the sky was magnificent. And Mabel and Cody were outside with us, Cody dropping his ball into the pool so I could throw it in the grass. Over and over again.
We were watching the sky for lightning and I said to Marika, “This, this is just as weighted as what happened on the freeway. It’s not better, or worse, it’s the same. To just be fully in it and experience it. Yes, I was brave and calm, I did all the right things, I got us to safety. And now I am in this amazing pool, with you, with the dogs, under this sky and it’s not even hot out.”
Every moment we live is what matters. The hard ones, the delightful ones, the boring ones and the scary ones. By not getting attached to any one moment, allowing each moment to lead to the next, that is living in the present.
Being in the NOW moment allowed me to release the worry of what I might need to do with the RV, with my life. I would deal with it on Monday or Tuesday, when places were open for business. But in that moment, the only next big question was what to do for dinner.
I could have easily stayed home and grazed, but Marika wanted Chinese food and felt like taking a drive, even in Friday dinner hour traffic. I was happy to just be a passenger as we drove to her favorite eggroll place on the far west side of town.
The streets were wet the further west we drove, and the sky was ominous. We sat in a booth by the window but there was no rain. The eggrolls were better than average but not to drive for, but it was fun to feel like we were still on vacation.
It started to drizzle on the walk back to the car and we drove home in a cool, steady rain. We sat out back under the patio cover, watching the drops bounce on the surface of the pool. Both dogs were with us and it was the perfect coming home.
The next morning, the RV started up like a dream. But there was a new hard-clicking sound in the engine. And so this week I will find a new mechanic and see what needs to be done. I am praying that it is a minor repair, and that I will be able to continue with my plan to return to the beach in the RV on September 1st.
The practice is to not get too far ahead of myself with what if’s; to stay right here, right now, embracing what is, and recognizing that I am exactly where I need to be and that all will work out as it is meant to, with grace and ease for the benefit of all.
Last night I took my first after-dark swim. There was a random breeze, barely strong enough to move the wind chimes that Marika bought to honor her mom when she passed. I played with Cody for a while, throwing his ball from the pool onto the grass, then I eased onto my back to float. The sky was dark and clear with just a few shadows of clouds in the west. I couldn’t see any stars, but I knew they were there.
[ssba]Breathing Space
Whenever I return from traveling, I give myself a day with nothing planned so that I can re-adjust to the time zone, take a nap if I need to, do laundry, and unpack my own self from the experience before jumping back into daily life.
And so I’m spending this last week of the Heart Sparks Road Tour in the mountains of Pinetop-Lakeside, AZ, just relaxing, before heading down into the summer-hot Phoenix valley to begin a month of Mac training.
I’ve been on the road for 110 days, passed through 3 time zones, 10 states and stayed in 26 different camping spots. After the last two weeks of hopscotching from Memphis, TN, to Alabama, then Tennessee again, through Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico, I am so glad to be in Arizona, knowing that I don’t have to drive anywhere for a whole week.
Even though I only drove 2-3 hours each day, it seemed like a long trip because it was too hot and muggy to venture out for anything more than a quick round of ball playing. I did eat some fried catfish in Oklahoma and almost took a limousine to the famous Big Texan steakhouse in Amarillo, but mostly I stayed inside watching Drop Dead Diva on Netflix.
Most places I only stayed one night, but in Toad Suck, Arkansas, we stayed for two because we were camped right on the Arkansas River in full shade, and we could walk in the early morning and evening without getting overheated or mosquito bitten.
But in Arkansas, the water heater stopped working. I thought it might be because of the high humidity, but in even after we arrived in the cool, high desert of Pie Town, New Mexico, the pilot still wouldn’t light. And then my worst fear happened. The air conditioner compressor stopped working. Thank God it was cool enough that I didn’t HAVE to have it on. But I’d need it in Phoenix and beyond.
I’m living in a 1989 motorhome. Marika and I bought it when it was 5 years old with only 9500 miles on it. Now it has 60,000 miles and the wall heater no longer works. The generator needs a new fuel line. And now no hot water OR air conditioning. Did it make any sense to keep putting money into it? But if I didn’t, where was I going to stay? I didn’t want to sleep on the air mattress in Marika’s house. And what about California? If I’m not at Paradise Park, where will I live? Would I be stuck in Phoenix, living at my father’s house? I had no cell reception and barely a wifi signal and I was the only camper in the five-space park. And the engine hook was stuck shut so I couldn’t even check the oil.
And I freaked out.
Suddenly, I felt like I was going to be forced backwards into something. I bawled and cried and then even laughed, because sometimes I guess I need big jolts to make changes in my life.
A Facebook friend reminded me that it would all work out, and I was able to believe it. I told myself that I didn’t have to make any new life decisions, I just needed to get gas, and drive two hours to Pinetop where I could at least get an estimate for the repairs. I was even able to sing without crying as I followed the wide open sky across the border into northeastern Arizona.
When I got to Pinetop, I called a mobile RV repair guy. After testing the circuit board and checking all of the connections, he determined it was a voltage problem. I told him about the trouble I had with the switch for the water pump back in April and indeed, the problem was just a loose monitor panel plug.
And the a/c was suddenly working again! Blowing a cool 55° according to the guy. I realized that the last RV Park had wonky electric hookups and the compressor just wasn’t getting enough juice to run. So all is working in my world again and I am happily settling into my wonderful-again home.
I don’t know yet what I want next, and that’s really OK. I need to spend some good time and energy honoring all that has transpired these last four months on the road. To take an inventory of what I loved most, what I might want to do again, what I’m most surprised by, and proud of. And in those questions I’m sure I’ll begin to vision and feel my way into what I might want next.
But for now, I am tuning my ears to the northern bird songs and adjusting my body to the dry mountain air and the sky that gets darker so much earlier in the evening.
And I am deep breathing. Not by practice, but because we are at 7400 feet in the Apache-Sitgraves National Forest, and my lungs are used to living at sea level.
I’m sure the enormity of what I have done, where I have been, and how I have grown more into myself will continue to reveal itself in these next weeks and months. But for now, I’m just grateful to be here, breathing clean air, walking in the forest and knowing that I am home.
How do you give yourself breathing room after a big event or vacation?
How do honor where you’ve been and what you’ve done before jumping back into the next thing?
I’d love to hear your stories. Please share in the comments below.
[ssba]How to Find Balance Between Funk And Fire
A client, Joan, recently shared that she was having a rough week. She felt she wasn’t getting the “right things” done, and she felt alone in the work she had to do. Joan thought the roller coaster she was on was “normal” but she was hoping for a way to get off the ride.
Another client, Annie, shared how, one week she was feeling very motivated and productive and on fire, and then the next week she had fallen into a deep, unsettling funk. And she had lost all sight of the importance of the work she was doing.
Both women are involved in big projects. They are doing big work from their hearts. And yet, they had forgotten to acknowledge how hard they’d been working.
No wonder they landed in a funk.
We all move from high to low. It is as natural as the tides, ebbing and flowing. It is in this flux that we experience movement.
We couldn’t possibly sustain always feeling high and we couldn’t possibly survive if we were always feeling the lows.
The question is, does the fluctuation always have to be so extreme?
If we can practice actions and thoughts that keep us more balanced, then the shifts between ebb and flow might be less extreme, more manageable and healthier for our minds and bodies.
Sometimes the best thing you can do when you are roller coaster-ing between funk and on fire is to get into your BODY.
We find our true balance in our physical body.
Our thoughts tend to knock us off-kilter and then our ego takes us on a wild ride of insecurity and doubt.
Don’t listen!
Instead, tune inward and get in touch with your physical body and ask yourself “what do you really need right now?”
This is the first Heart Sparks practice: grounding – connecting with your body and the things that support you.
Maybe it’s taking a delicious nap in the middle of the day.
Maybe it’s going for a long walk in the woods, or riding your bike, or standing in tree pose, balanced on one leg and then the other.
Whatever your body is asking for, DO IT.
Then come back to your work. (I promise you that you will feel different!)
And try this:
If you were feeling unproductive and unmotivated, take out a piece of paper and write down EVERYTHING you’ve been doing these past few weeks.
Then read the list and acknowledge your accomplishments.
Choose a way to celebrate all that you have done.
If you were feeling overwhelmed with everything you have to do, then take out a piece of paper and write down EVERYTHING you need to do.
From big jobs to small tasks.
Spit it all out onto the page.
This creates some much needed space in your brain.
If you like index cards, it might help to put one thing on each card so that it visually breaks the BIG THING OF IT into smaller, more do-able actions.
Then you can put the cards in the order of importance/priority so that it feels more manageable and much less overwhelming.
These are just a few suggestions….
How else can you stay focused and balanced so that you remember how much you believe in this great work you are doing????
I’d love to hear how you maintain your balance. Please share your ideas by clicking the Comments below.
P.S. I am tickled and thrilled to share with you that my short story, Binoculars has been published in the online magazine The Blue Guitar.
You can click here to read it. The story begins on page 15.
[ssba]What To Do When You Can’t Decide
Sometimes we get stuck making a decision, whether it’s saying yes or no, we just can’t choose. We swirl around in a circle of doubt and then we force a choice and it usually doesn’t work out.
Instead, consider this: if you are having trouble deciding, perhaps it’s because you aren’t ready to choose, or this may not really be what you want, or something else is in the way.
Instead of charging forward just to get it over with, I invite you to explore the resistance. Ask yourself “why am I having so much trouble deciding? And then step back again, breathe and listen in.
Maybe you don’t have everything you need to decide. Maybe it’s something you really don’t want to do, Maybe there’s something ELSE CALLING YOU, or a different way.
Or maybe you really want to say No instead of yes.
So many people don’t know how to say NO. So they say YES to everything. Because they don’t want to offend someone, or rock the boat, or make the wrong choice.
If you are just beginning to learn how to discern what you TRULY want, it can be overwhelming to have to make choices, to say Yes and No.
So I invite you to guage your answer with this single, simple statement:
IF IT’S NOT AN ABSOLUTE YES, THEN IT’S A NO.
With this single mantra, making the “right” choice becomes immediately easier. You can begin to say No to things with a clear and opened heart.
As you become more comfortable saying YES when you mean yes, and NO when you mean no, you can then take your decision making to the next level.
Instead of holding the choice up to absoluteness, ask a deeper question: Does this activity support my intention? Will it take me closer to my bigger vision of myself?
Often, that absolute Yes and No is crowded with our chattering voices, old beliefs…. I can’t afford it, it’s too far, I’ve never tried that before. And so it’s understandable to see how these beliefs make us think it is not an absolute YES.
But usually when we are presented with opportunities that scare the pants off of us, that are uncomfortable, foreign, unknown, they are exactly the things we need to do to take the next step.
So if you are trying to decide, instead of settling for the first easy, absolute answer, take some time to explore what the No’s are.
Maybe they are really Yes’es in disguise.
Is there something you are having trouble deciding? How might these techniques help you come to the true and clear answer from your heart?
Please share your thoughts by clicking on the Comments below.
[ssba]