Living Outside the Box
We’ve all heard the phrase “think outside the box”, but before you can begin to think or live outside the box, it helps to know what that means. For each of us the answer will be different.
QUESTIONS:
What does living inside the box mean to you?
It could mean feeling stuck or bored. It might mean doing what is expected of you. Maybe inside the box is predictable, what you always do. Inside the box could be playing it safe, staying where it is easy, comfortable.
What does living outside the box mean to you?
Is it pushing your limits? Is it taking more risks, leaping into the unknown? Maybe it is doing the same thing, but differently. Maybe it’s eating at a new restaurant. Maybe it is moving your sofa to the other side of the room.
Think about your own answers and write them down. Writing things down gives power to your thoughts. And writing requires effort, commitment, taking the time to find your pen and paper.
Complete these sentences, being as descriptive and vivid as possible. Write several sentences for each.
Living inside the box, I am…….
Living inside the box I feel……..
Living outside the box I am…….
Living outside the box I feel……….
Are there some surprises in your answers? Please share in the comments below.
Seeing Through the Heart
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Recently, a coaching client was having trouble seeing the amazing shifts in her life. She could only see that she is still at the same job, her house is not remodeled, the yard is still not planted.
I asked her to look with her heart, instead of her eyes.
Suddenly she could see so many changes in herself, her environment, how she is showing up in the world. She realized that she is not reacting at work, that she is engaging more with her live-in father-in-law. She is so aware of how much more balance she feels in her moods and her body.
Big changes happen INSIDE first.
It’s as if we must rebuild from the ground up.
Often, when we are ready for change, we first have to redefine our priorities, we need to get clear about our values. We must create space for ourselves in order for changes to grow.
And of course, this takes time.
And work.
And faith.
And it takes stepping back from what we see on the surface and looking INSIDE, with our heart, to see that our true self is changing.
I’d love to hear your comments.
When Things Don’t Turn Out the Way You Expect Them To
I remember the first time I offered a free tele-seminar call, where I announced a new online Master Coaching program. My vision was clear and powerful: people would listen to the call, get as excited about the content as I am, feel incredibly inspired and deliriously motivated and the class would fill within the first week.
But that didn’t happen.
Sure, people listened to the call. But not a single person signed up for the program.
And I was devastated.
How could I put so much effort and love into a thing and not have it turn out the way I expected?
I wallowed for a few days in the disappointment. I knew I did a good job. I knew I was offering an amazing program. (Fortunately, I never went down the self-deprecating path telling myself that the tele-seminar sucked, or that I wasn’t a good coach.)
But I did wonder if I should just give up on the whole Spark the Heart thing and focus all of my efforts and attentions on my Mac training, since that’s where more of my success happens.
And then I talked with friends. I shared my bruised heart with my coach. And I came back to remembering that nothing is ever all or nothing.
I remembered that it is a gift that I have two very different businesses that bring my joy and allow me to serve others. I remembered that it is precisely the success of my Mac training that offers me the opportunity to also grow this new and passionate other business.
And, like everything, it will take time.
When things don’t go the way we hope, it’s OK to feel disappointment. It’s OK to retreat for a bit. In fact, it’s a wonderful thing to step aside for a while so you can regain some perspective.
When you step back from the disappointment, you give your ego a chance to heal.
And then you’re able to ask yourself bigger questions without judgment, like:
What did work?
What could I do differently?
How important is this?
Is there a bigger clue here for me?
This past month I announced a new Virtual Living Room Ladies Coaching Circle. I was so excited to gather another intimate group and do some amazing exploring and growing together. But not a single person signed up.
I was certainly disappointed.
But I have accepted that this isn’t the time for that kind of work.
And so, once again, I am stepping back to see what’s working and how best I can serve the people I work with. And I am letting go of expectations and opening to a bigger vision of what I am here to be and do.
I’d love to hear your comments. Share them by clicking the Comments below.
Decision. A Matter For the Heart
image by dreamtime.com
Some decisions are easy. You know you want to or don’t want to do something and it’s clear and simple and done.
Other decisions require more thought and contemplation because the answer isn’t as clear-cut.
Maybe you take out a piece of paper and write the PROs on one list and the CONs on the other. Maybe you ask your friends and family for their input. Often, writing it all down brings clarity.
But sometimes, all of that thinking only muddles the issue.
I remember the night I needed to decide if I was going to continue working with my amazing coach in 2011. My list of PROs and CONs was evenly matched. There were just as many reasons to say YES as there were not to.
I was so overwhelmed with having to choose that I couldn’t sleep. And the lack of sleep led to a head cold.
Have you ever tried to make a decision when you felt like your head was submerged in a fish bowl?
But that’s exactly what I needed. To NOT be able to think my way to the decision. But instead, to FEEL my way to it.
When I was able to stop trying to figure it out and go deep into my heart, the answer became clear.
Shifting our focus from rational thinking to creative intuition will always lead us to the right choice.
A client recently needed to make a choice and all of the thinking was driving her crazy. Since she didn’t have a head cold, I suggested she find an activity that took her out of her head. She immediately realized she needed to go PAINT. A few days later she reported that she had new clarity and had made a decision that felt really good and right.
Short of getting a head cold, how can you move from your head to your heart?
• Take a long walk in nature.
• Pull out your paints and follow the colors and shapes on the canvas.
• Tear images from a magazine and see what tickles your fancy.
• Roll down a hill (with or without a child.)
• Go dancing or biking or hiking or skating.
• Take a nap.
I’d love to hear your experiences. You can share them below by clicking on the Comments button.
Wherever You Go, There You Are…
I’ve settled into the rhythm here: the daily walks up and down the hill to the beach, the weekly trip to the farmers market for sourdough bread and fresh, ready fruit, and the quiet evenings sitting outside with Cody as the sun goes down over the big hills.
Against that steady, comfortable rhythm, I have become very aware of the places where I am oh, so uncomfortable.
I did not think that, living across the street from the beach, I’d be bored and lonely and spending much of my time posting comments on FaceBook. But, like Jon-Kabat-Zinn wrote, “wherever you go, there you are”….and all of your challenges come with you…
We think that if we just had this, or did that, or lived here, then life will suddenly be easy and perfect and magical. HA! We forget that the one variable that is part of the equation is still our own self. That, until we change our core beliefs and behaviors, we will be confronted with the same challenges we struggled with before this or that or here.
Case in point:
When I lived in my bungalow in Phoenix, I was a workaholic. When I was able to close the lid of my laptop and not rush to answer emails after business hours, I sat in my Ethan Allan recliner and perused the internet and watched hours of television. I swore that, when I lived in a cooler place, I’d walk more and veg out less.
Well, here I am, living at the beach of my dreams and I am still a workaholic and I still choose television and the internet when I want to escape. Sure, I’m walking more often, sometimes five or six jaunts a day. But I haven’t changed my essential behavior of tuning out if I’m not working.
Yet, what I’d REALLY like to be doing is deeply connecting with real people, live, in color, not just virtual friends on FaceBook. I didn’t do this in Phoenix and I’m not doing it now.
Why not?
I could make a list of “reasons,” but really, I know they are just excuses. And so I need to do some deeper asking.
What am I afraid of?
Why am I REALLY not making the effort to get out of my own space, my own self, my own limitations?
What if I DID?
What do I have to lose? More important, what might I gain?
It’s not that I don’t talk with people. In fact, I’m very friendly out in the world. I enjoy the banter with my neighbors and the pleasant exchanges with the woman who rings up my groceries. But I don’t know how to connect with people who I might develop deeper friendships with. And this is what I crave the most.
Because what I’m looking for is less about company and more about intimacy.
I know it has nothing to do with where I live or even the weather outside. It’s all about how I show up, and how much I am truly willing to risk without expectation when I do.
My mother used to tell me, you meet your real friends doing what you love to do. And, if I look at how I connected with my closest friends, it was through yoga, through writing, or meeting friends of friends.
So this week I am trying a new yoga class and attending a kirtan, a sacred call and response chanting circle. Both are favorite heart centered activities that will give me opportunities to connect more spiritually and compassionately with others and with myself.
And in the midst of it all, I continue to remind myself to have patience, that this is a journey, and that this is deep stuff I am working through. And that I am in a beautiful place to be opening up to my beautiful self.
How do you hold yourself back? What do you crave the most? Please share your own story by clicking on the Comments below.
Circus Yoga: Learning To Fly
Circus Yoga logo by Kristin Mele Bortles
Community.
Collaboration.
The power of a group.
These are some of my favorite concepts.
It’s more than the idea that one hundred people working together can accomplish more than a single person.
What excites me about collaboration is the energy and power of diverse people coming together with different skills, different ideas and different ways of expressing themselves and joining together for a single cause.
Last week I participated in a CIRCUS YOGA class.
What drew me to the class were the words
fun, community, collaboration.
Too often, we think that, in order to connect to our hearts, we have to do it alone.
Sure, there are some things we need to do alone. Silent meditation, solo retreats and solitary adventures all help us find our unique power and vulnerability.
When we work with others, we connect into much larger energy. We can enjoy the benefits of other people’s strengths and lean into our own vulnerability. We can let go of our need to “do it all” and control everything, knowing that someone else is there to support us, guide us and carry the weight.
So when I saw the announcement for this Circus Yoga class, I was excited, curious and I thought, YES! I’m in.
And immediately I heard all of my excuses in my head:
“It’s a Friday night, I’ll be too tired.”
“I have to teach a class the next morning.”
I looked at the website and saw people of all ages, connected in a circle, juggling, standing in human pyramids, and I thought, “Yes, that DOES look fun!”
And then more voices:
“I’m too big to be lifted.”
“I’m not strong enough to be a base support on the bottom.”
“What if I can’t breathe?”
One thing I know about myself is that, what I resist most is the thing I need to do. It’s where my biggest growth can happen.
And so I calmed myself, reminding myself that I could take a nap that afternoon if I needed to. That, even if I wasn’t able to participate in every activity, just BEING there, being a part of the community experience would be wonderful.
And in that brave and clear space, I signed up for the class.
There were 22 of us, aged 8 to 80. The 80 year old had recently learned how to fly on a trapeze at her grandkid’s summer camp. There was an older man who couldn’t touch his toes. There were slender and strong yoga instructors and several older-than-me women who practice regularly.
But I wasn’t intimidated or second guessing my being there. I was proud and glad that I had chosen to come and I was ready for whatever the evening presented.
We began in a circle, sitting on the floor, cross-legged. We used our neighbor’s bodies for support as we leaned left and right, stretching and sighing, twisting and reaching.
We paired up with partners, mirroring each other’s movements, moving so slowly, in unison, until we no longer perceived a leader or a follower.
We pushed with sticks and pulled with ropes, creating silent conversations of trust between our bodies.
And then Erin, one of the Circus Yoga leaders asked, “Who’s never flown before?”
I raised my hand, assuming it was just an information seeking question. But really, she was seeing who she might pick to demonstrate a partner-supported pose.
She chose a lean, strong, flexible woman with a yogi name. Erin laid on her back the the floor and the yogi stepped her feet around her, following Erin’s directions. She tucked, she breathed, Erin placed her feet at the yogi’s thigh creases and the yogi breathed again, allowing Erin to lift her. She raised up, long, lean, effortless.
Seeing the yogi suspended over Erin’s body, I remembered doing this as a kid, my father holding me by the hands, lifting my body in the air with his legs and me giggling and laughing.
The yogi relaxed her head and her body got longer, the backs of her palms rested on the floor. Erin moved her legs, flying the yogi slightly forward, then returning to center, the yogi’s body still folded over her legs.
They held the pose for several minutes, the yogi completely relaxed. And then she retucked, refolded, leaned in and stood up, saying she felt so energized and tall.
And then Erin asked, “Who else wants to try?”
I don’t remember raising my hand, but she called my name. And I was thrilled. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t be able to lift me. I was so opened and ready and trusting.
Erin laid back on the floor and I stood with my feet next to her hips. She placed her feet just below my thigh creases and we breathed in together, connecting. Conspiring, she called it. Another breath in and she tucked her knees in as I folded toward her. Exhaling, I rested my hands on her shins.
I folded forward, eyes closed, my head toward her heart, and then I was up in the air, the weight of my body so stable on her legs, her hands gently supporting my shoulders.
I heard someone say that my hands weren’t touching the floor.
Erin guided me to spread my own legs in a wider V and I felt my body release and relax, the backs of my palms now resting on the floor. Erin’s hands were no longer holding my shoulders and I let go even deeper, breathing into all of the space within me and around me.
In that moment, I wasn’t the biggest woman in the room. I wasn’t the woman with tight hips and asthma. In that moment I was strong. I was vulnerable. I was flying.
Working with others can teach us so much about ourselves.
Just showing up, open and receptive, can present us with the most amazing opportunities for opening our hearts.
For more information about Circus Yoga and how you can join in on the fun, visit www.circusyoga.com
How do you connect to community? What have you gained from being a part of a collaboration? Please share your stories by clicking on the Comments below.
How to Woo Your Creative Self
thrift store finds
I have been back at the beach for three weeks and I hear myself chastising my writer self, “Why haven’t you started writing your book proposal yet! You created this space and your wasting time!”
I tell myself it’s only been here three weeks, that I needed to acclimate, settle in. And that I had a big Mac course to launch and begin.
Still, I am having trouble getting started.
So I have been listening to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Magic Lessons Podcasts. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love, and has just published a new book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear.
In one of Gilbert’s podcasts, she is talking with a woman who is stuck in her writing. Gilbert invites the woman to have an affair with her writing, to keep it secret and sneaky and exciting, to counter how open and generous she is with everything else in her daily life.
The energy of a sneaking around affair didn’t resonate with me, but I loved the idea of growing a new relationship with myself, to woo my creative self back into the spotlight. Not just the writer in me, but also the board game lover, the conceptual artist, the hill-roller and the hunter of old junk whose heart skips beats when I find that special something that can become something else.
And when I pull my focus back even further, I can see that my deep longing for new relationships and friendships is really so much about my relationship with my creative self.
No wonder I have been feeling such lack and lowness and emptiness.
So on Saturday I took myself into Morro Bay and checked out two thrift stores – one of my favorite things to do. Except I’ve been denying myself the delight for the last four years because I kept telling myself that I have no space in the RV to collect potential art supplies.
But on Saturday I changed that story and I had such fun poking through the pile of office supplies, scavenging though the back corner shelves of hardware and plumbing parts. I even bought a few things and, of course, I found a place in the RV to store them.
I am noticing that everything I am choosing these days is calling to my creative self to wake up, step up and come back to living.
Which is why I am going to Santa Cruz next month to attend Gilbert’s Big Magic book signing event. This is something I never would have done before the Heart Sparks Road Trip, but a whispering voice in me made it happen. I contacted a Facebook friend who lives there and she got our tickets so we can go together. I found a campsite in the Redwoods so that I can bring Cody and leave him in comfort, and the event has turned into a full-out adventure.
And this week I am heading up to the Asilomar Conference Center in Pacific Grove, CA to reconnect with the amazing community that is Patti Digh’s Life Is a Verb Camp. It’s a camp for adults that focuses on Community, Creativity, Courage and Compassion. I attended two years ago outside of Atlanta and have marveled at the connections I’ve made from and since then. So many of the people I met on the Heart Sparks Tour were directly related to Camp. No wonder my creative self can’t wait to be enveloped in all of that energy again.
I almost didn’t register for camp because of the cost. But my friend Frannie reminded me, “You are investing in something bigger and it costs money to do this – you are worth it and you have continual signs that you are where you are supposed to be right now. Keep trusting the process dear friend.”
And so I am. Because if I don’t honor my creative self, it will keep calling me, showing up as feelings of less than and not enough. But when I re-connect to those feelings of delight and aliveness, all kinds of things can change.
How do you woo your Creative Self?
What does she love to do?
How does she like to move and play?
What are her favorite foods?
What would tickle her and delight her?
Where would you take her on a date?
Please share in the comments below!
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.
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!
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!
