Closure

Endings are tough, even when they are right. I know this. I've had a lot of practice walking away from people and circumstances when the situation required it (and have watched people I love dearly walking away from me as well), so you think I'd be good at it by now. Not so much (said the woman who stayed in a ten year relationship six years longer than she should have, lol). Even endings that seem fairly insignificant can feel like kaka. Endings are just so...final.

So, I quit my little side-job yesterday. I had been thinking about it for awhile, but the stars just seemed to align in an instant, and the message was clear: Time to go. NOW. So I did. You know, if I'm thinking logically about this, it really shouldn't be a big deal. It's a job I didn't need that I took to help my daughter out. She was the manager at the time, and needed more people. In spite of some misgivings, I decided to be good sport and take the job. And hey, I kind of liked it. I liked the people that I worked with, the atmosphere was fun, and I was only there a couple of days a week so it didn't really cut into anything else I was doing. Then my daughter left, then there was more or less a mass exodus of good people, and then everything changed. It sort of reminds me of that movie Legend, when Lily touches the unicorn and it all goes to sh**. Though there are still a few good people there (who will be missed, for sure), it just wasn't the same. It had come to the point where I had no idea what I was going to have face when I showed up in the morning, and that doesn't work for me. Sure, I know; life is uncertain and all that. But there's a limit to the amount of mental anguish I'm willing to subject myself to for no good reason. I'm not a masochist.

So I walked away. Sometimes it's the only choice you have, especially when other people are involved. Sometimes, no matter how badly you want something or someone to be a certain way, to be what you need, or to just WORK, it just isn't going to happen that way. You can try to stick it out (potentially at the expense of your own psychological well-being), or you can walk away. The "walk away" option is still hard, especially when it feels like giving up. I hate that feeling. But sometimes it's the only good choice. The older I get, the the smarter I get about the "when". Go me, I guess.

So then what? Well, something new. No brooding, just forward motion. For me that means connecting with a trainer, running better and running faster (in my sweatpants, because I'm THAT cool). Really, just choose something that you like that pulls you out of a funk (as long as it isn't, like, alcohol or something harmful, obviously). If you're moving forward then you aren't looking back. But leave some space in your life, because nature abhors a vacuum. Sometime when you end something that isn't working, you create space for something good, something that WILL work. Sometimes life has more to teach us than that things have to end. Sometimes the lesson that's ready to be learned is more about beginnings. I wonder what that will be for me? Hmm...

Birthday Wishes

Photo:happybirthdaycakeideas.com

Today is my birthday. I usually wake up happy, and shamelessly make the entire month of February all about me. I'm generally insufferable on my actual birthday, but it seems to be more amusing than annoying. Sometimes. You would think I was a four year old child instead of a lumpy, middle-aged woman. I say that without any of the implied self-deprecation. I don't happen to believe there is anything at all wrong with being either lumpy or middle-aged. I'm forty eight today, actually. And it's cool. But I woke up in kind of a sad space, and that's less cool.

There are several legitimate reasons, I suppose. It's cold, it's grey, and it's the time of year that I am SO sick of winter. Some dear friends of mine lost a really great dog yesterday, and that's heartbreaking. Our country is a sh**show, and there's nothing I can do about that (if you disagree with me on that point, please keep it to yourself. For me, even more depressing than the sh**show that our country has become is the  number of people looking straight at the situation and thinking its just awesome). And you know, I still don't have a pony. That last bit is in part my fault. I know what I want, I know what I want to do and it's an area of my life where I'm not willing to settle. It's also an area of my life where I have more than paid my dues, and it's time for a new experience.

I did come to a realization that brings me closer to that goal, though. There was once a time that I wanted nothing more than a house of my own in the middle of nowhere. I could keep my pony at home and I would feel 'free'. But my daughter, in her infinite wisdom (I swear that girl is a magical unicorn, and I have no idea how or why), reminded me that I could have a horse without "all that". She reminded me what it was like to live in a home in the middle of nowhere (which we did for many years) and asked me how I got 'freedom' out of that. She's not wrong. I think of the work and the responsibility, and the reality of living (single parenting, no less) in what is essentially a chore factory, and that really isn't where I want to spend my money or energy. Like, at all. It was definitely the right way for a child to grow up, but now it's my turn. Do I miss mowing the lawn? Shoveling snow? Cleaning off/repairing the roof? Or really, fixing ALL the things? Do I miss injuring myself repeatedly, dealing with getting water to the barn in the winter? Do I miss how impossible it is to go anywhere, or get anything else done? I'm forty eight today, and no, I do not miss all those things that beat me up when I was younger. Maybe someday I will, and I'll revisit the idea then. For now, I like the singularity and simplicity of my greatest financial goal: Pony.

It's a good feeling to be content. I love my neighbors. It was a thought that occurred to me only recently, but there it is. I like that I can make a phone call when something needs to be fixed. I like that my car lives in a garage filled with security cameras. I like that when I couldn't start my car, there were several friendly faces around to offer me a jump start (of COURSE I have cables). If I had the money, I would refurnish my place so that it's a little more 'me', but I have all my parents' furniture from their condo, so I'm not exactly hurting. They don't buy junk, and home is super comfy, so it's all good. We're actually okay, and it hasn't always been the case. I feel some pretty genuine gratitude around that in spite of my cruddy mood.

But this is a post about wishes, and I do have a few. Obviously, a pony and the resources to accessorize, support and show said pony are always in the front of my mind. My friend Autumn wants me to do mounted archery with her too, and that is also a loud and resounding HELL YES. I would like to have the time/focus to finish my new book. It seems to be writing itself, which is great, so if that could just keep happening I would totally dig that. I also wish for it's success. There's never a guarantee there. All I can do is hope that I'm writing something that people will want to read. Speaking of success, I wish that one of the movie producers who's been in touch with me would do more than talk to me about how awesome it would be to work with them. Option the damned book already! Yes, it WOULD be an awesome movie! Yes, I would LOVE to help with the screenplay! Let's do it! (See above re: Mama wants a pony). Here is where I completely acknowledge that I have entirely different problems than I used to, and I'm grateful as hell for that too.

Speaking of holy (we weren't, but let's pretend), I've been praying a lot. I know many of you don't believe in God, and that's cool. I don't know how I would still be alive if I didn't, and that's no exaggeration. You know, the question I get asked the most is "How can a loving God allow so much suffering?". No clue. You might as well ask me "How long is time?" and "How big is the Universe?" because I think they are all equal in terms of how far beyond our human purview they are. Faith is certainly at odds with my logical mind at times, but I have more reasons to believe than not. I've been to some dark places I'll probably never talk about. But faith makes me think of humanity. I'm struggling with that a bit just now. I know all the wonderful things we're capable of; space exploration, medical breakthroughs, art, music...it's endless. I hear our divinity in a singing chorus, or see it in an abstract sculpture that reaches me in spite of it's intangible yet somehow familiar form. I don't think we understand fully the best of what we are, but I wish we could at least try. I wish we could see in each other our naked humanity, free from whatever form(s) of groupthink we personally subscribe to. I wish we could remember who and what we are and love that in each other and treat each other accordingly. It's how we came into the world and it's how we're going to leave it. In the end, it won't matter who told you to think or feel what. In the end it's just you. Who are you?

Yeah, that last wish was a doozy. Unrealistic, yes. For now. But it's my birthday, dammit, and I had to ask. So off I go to enjoy the day, and may there be many happy returns for all of us.

For my fellow Aquarians: 

The Significance of Sunflowers

Photo: amoreint.com

Monday was the Monday-est Monday I can remember for a long time. This week, they're doing work in my building too, so the space invasion is feeling extra invade-y Yet somehow, I remain somewhat philosophical about it. Perhaps it's because I'm fully and properly caffeinated, or maybe because I know it's temporary. All thing in life can't be cool and groovy all the time. Not only would it be boring (though I will admit to being all set with nail-biting, tooth-grinding events. ALL set) but there would be no contrast. There's lots to look forward to, not the least of which is "spooky season". I get giddy just thinking about it. Besides, (okay, awkward and lumpy segway) I hail from the "sunflower" tribe. I didn't always, but I surely do now. It's all good.

People often overlook sunflowers. They aren't popular in bouquets and when you think of beautiful things, sunflowers may not immediately spring to mind. But they actually ROCK.

Whenever I could, I planted giant sunflowers somewhere on my property just to have them around. Just looking at them made me happy, so why not? A few years ago, I had five of them growing in front of my home. It was August, and they were tall and strong and AWESOME. In an exceedingly unusual turn of events, we had a small tornado (an EF-0) kind of stroll right past my property (on rt2 in Grand Isle to be more specific). It was TERRIFYING. My dogs were glued to my legs and I could hear the ripping and tearing sounds of siding and shingles being forcibly removed. I saw all kinds of greenery flying past my kitchen window horizontally at an alarming rate, and hear the sounds of hail threatening to break glass. I had enough time to think "Holy crap, I'm going to die" a few times when it all suddenly stopped. Everything was a mess. It was kind of surreal. But my sunflowers still stood in my front yard. Their heads were bent over and their leaves were shredded, but they were the only thing I planted that year that wasn't just gone.

It was sad to see them looking so forlorn, and I was sure they were dead too, but I waited a few days to pull them up. Well, I never DID pull them up. Within a few days, their upturned faces were looking resolutely towards the sun again. They were renewed. From that time on they became my favorite flower.

There are flowers that are much more beautiful to be sure. But as a reason for existing, beauty alone doesn't mean much. When I think of beauty for it's own sake I think of orchids. They are delicate and unique. But when their exotic and ephemeral beauty is gone, there's nothing left. Some folks think of roses when they think of beauty, and they ARE beautiful. They are not quite as delicate as an orchid, but they have thorns. Some say the thorns are worth it for they joy the flowers bring, but long after the blooms are gone the thorns remain. Something to think about.

I want to be a sunflower. I want my beauty to be about my strength, a determined kind of joy and a desire to keep my face turned to the sun. I know that life's tornadoes (and forgive this clunky metaphor) have beaten me around and torn me up, but I was not left destroyed with my head hanging, at least not for long. I love the happy yellow petals of sunflowers, they are the color of joy. I love that when the summer is over, they aren't just dying and done, they have more yet to offer. With maturity they feed the birds, they feed us. They have something yet to offer beyond the way they look.

Last year, I was going through a bout of uncertainty. I was just about to finish my manuscript and I didn't know what would come next. What if I had done all that work for nothing? What if I had experienced all those sleepless nights, relived that nightmare, for no useful purpose? Then, inexplicably, I saw that a giant sunflower was growing in the small patch of grass near the dumpster behind my building. I don't have a yard anymore. I live on the 4th floor of an apartment building. As grateful as I am for manageable expenses and a safe place to be, I am really out of my element here. But there was a familiar sight sight in such an unlikely place. It was like seeing an old friend just when I needed them most. I felt a sense of reassurance as I watched it grow in such a inhospitable place, it's happy yellow face turned resolutely toward the sun. True or not, it felt like a sign just for me. The rest, of course, is history. I published my book and it's been a whirlwind of crazy-awesome since! It seemed unlikely (bordering on impossible) that a sunflower would just grow on that small patch of grass, and just as unlikely that my book would sell like it has, that I would get my picture in the paper, that I would be on TV and have a chance to think of my book being turned into a movie, and yet there it is.

Sunflowers, to me, represent resilience in the face of impossible odds and a fierce and determined joy. There's no bad there. Who know what's to come, but whatever it is, I bet it's good!

Father's Day

Photo: commons.wikimedia.org

Yesterday, all social media was a veritable smorgasbord of Father's day gratitude and wishes. While I'm grateful as hell for my step-dad, and my grandfather was the best dad ever, it's not my bestest day ever. Interestingly enough, my daughter doesn't jump for joy on Father's day either. I like to think that I'm far beyond my past experience, that we make our own future in spite of ourselves. I will always believe that we choose who we become, and that at a soul level nobody can influence who we choose to be. We are in charge of ourselves.

It's tough, though, to overcome some ideas. If, in your experience, almost every man you know has lied, cheated on you or bailed out entirely, trust is not wildly abundant. I dislike my mistrustful nature, it's something I struggle with and am trying to overcome. But at the same time, it's pretty difficult to dismiss a lifetime of experience. I wish so much that I could have provided my daughter with something better, a different understanding, but you can't make people be compassionate, connected or responsible, even when they appear to be all those things (well, as long as they are getting what they want, anyway).

I was already feeling somewhat bummed out when a friend posted an aggressively ignorant (and over-the-top offensive) comment about "lazy single mothers". I won't use the language I would like to here, but I hit the delete button pretty quickly yesterday. If a person can believe for a moment that a single mother has the luxury of being lazy (job, no job, either way), then that's a special kind of ignorant. The kind that doesn't take into account the MAN who is 50% of the equation. Women make mistakes. Some of us start our lives believing only the best in people. We believe the words we are told, we believe "I love you" means just that. Sometime we make ourselves sick believing it, we so need to find that human compassion in another person. Is it OUR fault then, that we were lied to? That we were left holding the bag? Please, explain to me how? How is it our fault that we can't read the deception when someone lies with sincerity to our faces? Should we just assume all men are cheaters and liars, then?

I won't do that. I won't judge an entire group of human beings based on the egregious behavior of a few (unlike my ignorant "friend"). All the same, the things I've learned stay with me. I have learned that if I want it done, I have to do it. That in a pinch, I can count on me. I have learned not to give my trust away. Now it has to be earned. I have learned that my strength and resourcefulness is unlimited. I learned the hard way. Unfortunately, so has my daughter. I know what it's like to fall on my face while others thrive at my expense.

We're okay, my daughter and I. Better than okay because we're careful and smart. Neither of us is the sad "If I don't have a boyfriend I'll just die" type. I feel sorry for those women, always depending on a man to define who they are. I love that we can stand on our own two feet. I learned how to do that from my "lazy single mother". The one who raised two children without child support (I only raised one child without child support), and yet still managed to give us her time and her love. She didn't run our father down, but told us the good things about him so that we may feel good about all parts of ourselves. Our "lazy single mother" encouraged all our endeavors, even if it meant working more hours to support them or finding more hours in an already-too-short day to make things happen. She did it all with a sense of humor (she wrote her master's thesis on the health benefits of having a sense of humor) and in spite of the struggle our house was warm and full of laughter. She never said "you can't do that, you're a girl". We believed we could do anything, because she showed us we could.

So, to my aggressively ignorant "friend", and to those dads who are whining about single moms getting Father's Day cards, deal with a dose of reality, if you please. While I'm certain of the value of a good dad, there are many of us out there who know that sometimes, men bail. We women won't take the blame and we DO deserve the credit for picking up the broken pieces of the family left behind.

Channeling Stewart

Al Franken as Stewart Smalley

I know I write about this sort of topic with regularity bordering on obsession, but I can't help but think that if the right person 'gets it' that something good could come of it. If just one person frees themselves from the shackles of their pre-programmed inner-dialog, it's worth it to me. The reason this topic is so important is because it's something I struggle with daily. I think I'm winning for the most part, but maybe my whole life would have been different had I come to certain realizations sooner. Or more likely, I had to deal with all the kaka to come to the appropriate realizations. I can accept that. In any case, I feel like I'm always trying to channel my inner Stewart. If you aren't old and aren't a Saturday Night Live fan, you may have to click his name on the right to go to his Wiki page to even know who the hell he is, but it's worth if for no other reason than a good chuckle.

It's not his self-affirmations that are so hilarious (though they are funny), but his constant struggle with self-doubt, which is easily brought about by a word or two from the people around him. Who does THAT sound like? Pretty much everybody, right? It kind of makes his self-affirmations useless and futile, since he entirely misses the point, which is to ultimately become a confident, self-contained entity. Now THERE'S a goal. You know, I don't think any of us is really ever supposed to be entirely self-contained, and that's...okay (a little Stewart humor for ya), but I think if we can summon even a shred of autonomy and self-belief, great things can happen.

What brought on this meandering and random post? It's silly, really. I just happened to pick up Marguerite Henry's book, "White Stallion of Lipizza ", which was one of my favorites when I was a child. This particular copy was my daughter's but it was sitting on a shelf at eye-level so I grabbed it. Yes, it's a kid's book, but written with enough nuance and impeccable research for an adult to enjoy it too. It immediately took me back to when I was a horse-crazy child and could identify immensely with the main character, a boy named Hans. I won't re-write the book for you, but let's just say that Hans was passionate about horses and was told by almost everyone that it was a waste of his time and out of his reach. He would do better to focus on more sensible pursuits more suited to his station in life. Fortunately for Hans, his heart spoke more loudly than any of those voices of "reason". I knew, even then, what Hans knew: You can't choose your passion, your passion chooses you. You can listen to the nay-sayers and take on their pessimistic point of view, and in fact that is the easiest thing to do. Especially if you are a child and have no power of your own. You're more or less at the mercy of folks who believe they know better, like teachers who think the box they want to put you into is more relevant than what your own heart knows. But that's a whole 'nother story and not really the point.

The point is this: Your life WILL follow your inner-dialog. Make it YOUR inner dialog, and make it a hopeful one. Have the audacity to think you can do outrageous things, and you'll do them. Start today. I'm not saying I'm some uber-successful person who followed my own path and now all is hunky-dory in Kristel-land (yet;-). But I DID notice something really cool: When I started listening to myself and believing that I deserved good things as much as the next guy, my hard work started paying off. The bleak sort of desperation, the idea that everything meaningful to me will be forever beyond my reach while I struggle to keep things afloat, it started to melt away as the Universe began to cooperate with me and show me the way forward. And this is real, not a fascinating work of fiction that I identify strongly with, but LIFE.

I'm not suggesting anarchy here, and there are lots of you out there saying "Well, SOMEBODY has to be responsible". Responsible to whom? Yourself, or your family? I get that. Why does following your passion preclude being responsible? If you look up responsible in the dictionary (which I did for you because I'm that awesome), it says nothing whatsoever about being miserable, unhappy or trapped in drudgery from which there is no escape. So there. No excuses. Channel your inner Stewart (or who Stewart is trying to be!) and mean it, because you're good enough, you're smart enough, and doggone it PEOPLE LIKE YOU! On that note, I leave you with a song that used to resonate with me when I was a young teeny-bopper and my mind was just absolutely beginning to rail against years of confinement (which could be yet another story that I will probably never tell you, lol). There is no "official video" so I chose a version with good audio that someone (not me) had done a really nice slide-show for. Enjoy :-)

New Year's Revolutions

Photo: www.birthdaydirect.com

I don't how I feel about the idea of New Year's Resolutions. I have a pretty good record with them; last year I resolved to get my book published and I did. But I don't like the implication that I have to change something about myself because something is wrong with me, and I have to be particularly resolute about it because well, it's January 1st, dammit. It reminds me a little bit of Lent. I feel kind of guilty if I don't give something up and eat fish on Fridays. It's a thing. The reality is, I have nothing to give up. I already quit smoking several years ago, and coffee isn't optional. But as a woman of a certain age, I do particularly appreciate that all my junk email assumes (naturally!) that I'm desperate to lose weight and to sort out my wrinkles via some miracle cream, creme, serum, etc.

Newsflash, junk-email generators: My resolutions tend to run on a deeper level. The things I would really like to sort out have nothing whatsoever to do with my lumpy little body or my (well-earned!!) wrinkles. I am happy to share these things publicly, and in fact have an innate sort of belief in the idea there's magic in sharing. There's power in words and intentions, and if you put them together and make them public, it leaves room for possibilities that may otherwise just be a wistful sort of inner longing that never amounts to much.

My resolutions this year are all about resources. For starters, I would like to develop some better inner-resources. I'm not a "people person", or an extrovert, and I'm not going to be. I'm okay with that. But like many sensitive people who have been emotionally sucker-punched a time or two (thousand) too many, I tend to avoid all-things-emotional. It doesn't mean I don't feel or don't care (for those of you who openly enjoy harboring that delusion), but quite the opposite. When things get emotionally intense it's overwhelming and I panic, which manifests outwardly as logical objectivity (weird, right?) or me actively running away. Like sometimes literally. Also weird. I know I'm at an age where most of the people I deal with should have the maturity to not emote forcefully at people, but it's not always the case. I think there's some erroneous belief that forceful emotions will somehow get through to me, when in reality the opposite is true. This year, I would like to work on my response and my ability to cope with this sort of thing. I realize that the behavior of other people is really about them, but it still really gets to me in a "please pass the Klonopin" sort of way, and that means it's having a toxic effect on me. It would be much more helpful if, instead of shutting down or running away (or taking Klonopin), I could simply ask that people use their words like grown-ups. THEN I could feel okay about exiting the situation until that is possible. Maybe I could eventually be less avoidy, and more comfortable in social situations? Crazy, right? Something to work on, anyway.

But it's not just the inner-resource thing I'd like to deal with. I have been given a perspective in the last several years that I never would have had just based on my upbringing. I had no idea how sheltered I was or how little information I really possessed about the world around me, and would have remained blissfully ignorant had I not been through hell myself. I used to believe that people who struggled financially were lazy, or that they brought it on themselves somehow. That life is all about the choices we make for ourselves, and if we're struggling it's our own damned fault. Personal experience has taught me that that viewpoint is, well, a crock of sh** if I may be blunt. Perpetuating this fallacy amounts to abuse of the most vulnerable people, and yet it remains acceptable in some circles.  Sometimes, doo doo happens that is beyond our control and it's outright hubris to believe otherwise. Now that I know better, I can't help but believe that I went through all that for a reason, and I resolve to work hard enough to have the resources and the position to do something about what I know. The idea drives me. The idea that I might someday be able to do something tangible to help, inspires me. How? I don't yet. But the book is feeling like a good start. It could have a decent run and fade into obscurity.  Or, it could inexplicably (with a bit of a nudge) go viral and get made into a movie. Who knows. That's the cool part: Anything is possible, and the odds are much more favorable than buying a lottery ticket. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like the best days are behind me. I have faith in my future. I want more people to feel that. There's no bad there.

Okay, and the rest of it is to be expected, I suppose. I want "home". For me, that means roots, both literally and figuratively. Something that's mine. And a horse. Always a horse.

So, I won't be buying a gym membership anytime soon, or purchasing some kind of $20 melon-based facial-miracle-in-jar, but I suppose if that's what you're into it's okay. It's just not for me.

Thank you for reading! Wishing you ALL a joyful, successful and HAPPY 2014!

Christmas List (post 100!)

Norman Rockwell

So, this isn't going to be my best Christmas ever. I miss my family, we just got hit with an ice storm, my daughter and I have the flu and my ex is trying to shoe-horn a last-minute person into our "family dinner" at Kotos. I have usually spent hours making gifts and ornaments to send to family members, and am enjoying the knowledge that they are done and sent by now, but not this year. Have I mentioned we've had the flu? Nothing is done. I just spent the last 20 minutes or so walking/sliding/falling down the same 20 feet of sidewalk with an under-exercised (98 pound!) dog trying get him to "do his business" before I coughed both my lungs free from my chest, ejecting them forcefully onto the icy sidewalk. So no, not the best Christmas ever.

But so what? Christmas isn't our only chance to be happy, to get it right. Through this understanding, I've reached a level of acceptance and even the ability to laugh at what a monumental mess things are this year. It has freed me from any and all expectations, and I'm going to call it "The Blessing of Freedom from Expectations" and turn it into a good thing instead of the real f***arow that it has actually become. Come on guys, this couldn't have gone more pear-shaped if I had planned it! It really IS kinda funny.

How would things be if my Christmas wishes were granted?

First of all, my parents would be here. I would have a house to host the festivities and I would have spent the last few days enjoying their company, making cookies, drinking hot chocolate and the like. I think it goes without saying that my daughter and I wouldn't have the flu. Our dogs would take themselves out into their yard, where they could get their frolic on without taking down any people. My gifts would all be sent, and I would be really excited to hear about what folks thought of them. My tree would be surrounded by gifts for the loved ones enjoying Christmas at home.

Dinner would be a fun meal cooked with love by those of us who were sitting down to enjoy it. My ex would still be there, but would have some social perceptiveness. Christmas would be a day to look forward to, not a day to grin and bear it and remember my manners (my new mantra; be polite, remember your manners).

Gifts for me would be simple: a gift card to my favorite clothing store or book store. A Vermont Teddy Bear (silly, REALLY silly, but I've always wanted one. This one, actually, with honey colored fur and blue jammies). A pair of LL Bean Wicked Good slippers. And you know, a pony. Some things never change :-)

But there are days that come after Christmas too, and in fact, endless possibilities to make good things happen all year round. The flu is going away, and the ice storm is behind us already. There's a start. I can do this. WE can do this. Please refer to my previous post about gratitude, because it's still true.

I hope everyone has a blessed and wonderful holiday, and that at least one wish comes true for you this season!

Apples and Oranges

Photo: www.integratorsacademy.com

I have been asked to clarify the difference between working and show line dogs. I would be happy to! I will use Dobermans as my example, because they are "my" breed :-) I have often said that the two dogs are so different that they might as well be separate breeds and that's true. They should both be love bugs with their families, stable and safe (especially applies to working line, for reasons you will see!), and neither of them should be inherently aggressive. They bear some resemblance to each other too, of course, but that's where the similarities end. Once upon a time, Dobermans had a well-earned reputation for fierceness. Even the show-dog Ferry had such a bad reputation that no judge would touch him. Sadly, he was eventually killed in self-defense by a kennel hand. Breeders subsequently decided that stability and at least some degree of tractability were important assets, and today's Doberman, both show and working lines, reflect that emphasis. In my experience, Dobermans are some of the kindest (if the most cheeky!) dogs out there.

I like nice examples of both working and show lines, so my intent here isn't to show a preference for one or the other (though Murph is primarily of the "working" variety) but merely to highlight the difference. I think the best way to do that is through videos. The first video shows a well-know and quite lovely show Doberman named CJ strutting it out in the ring. CJ will show you a great of example of a show line dog, doing what show line dogs are bred to do:

She's really quite a beautiful dog!

The next video will show a working line dog doing what working line dogs were bred to do. Because so few people understand Schutzhund, I feel like I have to qualify a few things first. This isn't a mean sport where dogs are forced to attack people and become dangerous. Quite the opposite. For the dogs, this is a fun game that they've learned through careful training (about 95%  or more +R, btw) over many months to a few years. Schutzhund trainers are some of the best in the world, and their dogs are almost always beloved family pets. The dogs aren't "attacking a person", they are going for the sleeve which they've come to know as a reward for obedience. The high prey drive inherent in these dogs means that a toy is often more of a reward than food. The stick is NOT for hitting the dog, but is known as a "clatter stick". It is usually hollow bamboo slit lengthwise, and its intention is to make a lot of noise. The example I'm going to show is the "protection" phase of competition, but know that a Schutzhund-trained dog is also highly proficient in obedience and in tracking. I don't know the woman or the dog in the following video, but I chose it because the pair of them approximate Murphy and I proportionally (I think Murph might be a smidge taller), the dog looks a lot like Murph's dad, and his gormy mannerisms are very "Murph like" :-) Please take note of the amazing obedience on this dog, despite his obvious power and energy:

 As you can see, they are very, very different animals, each having a very different mindset and impact on the world around them. Comparing the two is like comparing apples and oranges (ergo the title of this post, lol).  I hope this helps, and feel free to ask questions!

The REAL Zombie Apocalypse

The calm before the storm...

I spend a lot of time people-watching. I don't mean in a creepy, voyeuristic sort of way, but just observy.  I am my daughter's ride to and from work so I spend an inordinate amount of time just sitting in my car and waiting. I pass the time by listening to the radio and watching folks to-ing and fro-ing about their lives. This time of year, I am struck by the large number of people who accessorize their cute, woolen hats and puffy coats with incredibly sour faces. I get it, I really do. The frost sets into my bones right about this time of year and doesn't fully thaw until sometime around mid-May or so despite my best efforts to keep warm. I've lived in Vermont my whole life (except for three years I spent in Maine) so you'd think I'd be acclimated by now. Oh, I suppose I am. But 'acclimated' and 'happily adapted' are two very different vibes. Mostly, I suck it up and deal, just like the folks I watch on an almost daily basis.

Early mornings are the most entertaining time. Many people have yet to imbibe their morning caffeine and the combination of lack of coffee AND puffy clothes is pretty amusing. The usual winter shuffle is accentuated significantly when folks are still half asleep. These slow, lurching and only half-aware folks that I see on a regular basis have given rise to a theory: The zombie apocalypse will not be brought about by reanimated corpses, but by bundled-up, pre-coffee Northerners on their way to Starbucks.

Imagine if you will, the frozen North if not a cup of Joe (not even at Starbucks!) were to be found. It would be disastrous, the casualties immense. It would start at local Starbucks locations, but it would spread from there as even the (usually very caffeinated) baristas join in the desperate, lurching mob. The words "coffee", "tea" and "latte" would be grunted repeatedly with ever-decreasing enunciation as the now mindless hoard overtakes the city. Those few who had stockpiled their coffee and were therefore coherent run screaming in confusion as the slow but relentless mob continues on their tenacious course to find the one thing that sustains them...a cup of coffee. I can picture the scene: Glass breaks as Abercrombie and Hollister employees (who subsist almost entirely on Starbucks) break free from their respective pods and join the lurching mob.

Where will it end? It could end several ways I suppose. The best case scenario is that someone, somewhere is able to provide these "zombies" with their much-needed caffeine before too much damage is done. But the most likely conclusion is all manner of mayhem and shenanigans occur causing much damage and destruction, and then everyone falls asleep because they didn't have their coffee.

My daughter really needs her own car.

The Money Thing

Photo: www.wall-street.com

I've always had a strange relationship with money. Not only have I long felt like I was courting a lover who really didn't have much interest in being with me, but I felt on some level that money might be an EVIL lover. I didn't care, but I felt guilty for wanting it, anyway. After years of this awkward dance, I've realized that money wasn't really a thing with a life or an intention of its own, but instead a means to an end. It is only as good or evil as its holder, and only as illusive as we think it might be. Yeah, okay. Still working on that last part.

I have seen money used as both a carrot AND a stick. I have seen it used to artificially propel people into positions of power they didn't deserve. I have seen people use it to control others, to amass great quantities of 'stuff', to create a competitive advantage over those who had less. I have seen it withheld as a punishment, and have seen the acquisition of it prioritized over people and the living of life. It's no shocker at all that I see the evil side of money, and no surprise that I have had such mixed feelings about it for so much of my life. None of the usual reasons for acquiring money held much appeal for me, so I didn't really see the point of trying to amass wealth.

Years ago I had friends who tried to hook me into a multi-tiered marketing 'thing' that they were Very Excited about. They were pretty vague about the details for awhile, but ultimately told me the name of the company (I won't say who, but it rhymes with Bamway) when they realized I wouldn't listen to anything they had to say until they did. They asked me if I had time after work to go for a ride with them one day, and I reluctantly agreed to go despite the fact that they refused to tell me what it was about (these were friends, remember). After a couple of exhausting (and utterly confusing) hours of going to car dealerships, high-end clothing stores, furniture outlets and the like, they informed me I had been on a "dream quest", and that if I joined their company I could have all the beautiful things I just saw. All I had to do is pay some amount of money, use some products (sorry, this part was all vague) get friends to join and then PROFIT, and OMG, how exciting was that?! I never laughed so hard in my life. I said "Are you kidding me? WHO'S dream? I don't give a flying F*** about any of that crap! Have we MET?" followed by "Can I PLEASE go home now?" Seriously, anyone who knows me on even the most basic level HAS to know that anything that involves needing some type of disposable income AND the ability to sell stuff on the phone or in person (no online back then) was never, ever going to happen. And the way they came at me couldn't have been more wrong! They were trying to appeal to a sense of greed that I didn't have. If they had taken me to a warmblood horse farm, they may have gotten further, but probably not much :-) All that stuff remind me of South Park's "Underpants gnomes profit plan":

Either they were continuing to be intentionally vague, I was exceptionally obtuse or they didn't really know how it worked, either. In any case, I was not then and am not now interested in earning my money in a way that depends on what somebody else earns. It just feels icky to me.

Having said that, I have grown to see the very happy and uplifting side of money. I have come to understand that money can mean many genuinely good things. It can change and improve peoples lives, it can help the Earth become a healthier place, it can provide stability, help a family member or friend in a time of need and it can help someone go from a complete nobody to the person who eventually cures cancer. Money can be a blessed and beautiful thing, and it feels like it should be shared. I think its only ugly and evil when its hoarded and guarded over by the hunched gargoyle of greed and self-importance. Inviting resources into your life doesn't have to mean inviting the gargoyle. The two things are entirely separate events! What an astounding and liberating discovery that is! And lets be clear here, it was my own potential gargoyle that I feared. I have friends with lots of money who aren't the least bit greedy so I know it's possible.

But knowing and feeling aren't always the same thing. Now, I can keep some room available on my dance card for money, and not feel anything but good about it :-)

Facetubeinstatwit#$%-what?!

Photo: www.theguardian.com

I don't usually feel old or outdated. My daughter would happily tell you I'm like a dinosaur, but from a personal perspective I don't feel much different than I did when I was twenty. With one exception: All the tech-stuff baffles me.

Let's be clear here; I am a reasonably intelligent person who is capable of learning new skills and integrating them into my life. The fact that I have this blog that I almost know how to use correctly AND I'm accessing it through a computer I sort of can make work is proof of that. But it isn't easy for me, or comfortable. And now I'm really trying to utilize social media to promote my book, and it's creating quite a stir within my psyche. I feel like I'm trying to learn a new language, and in a way that's almost exactly what I'm doing. Historically, my language-learning hasn't gone so well. I used to know a fair bit of French (of the Canadian variety. I grew up on the border.) but forgot most of what I knew just by moving a couple of hours south and never hearing/using it. I tried to learn Russian for a minute, but couldn't retain any type of motivation so I put it aside and didn't go back to it. Not the most excellent track record. But this "new language" is about marketing and survival in a technological world. It's a language that the kids innately know, and when new things crop up they assimilate them at an astounding rate. I may not feel like a dinosaur, but I suppose in some ways that I am.

To be fair, I grew up in a very different environment. I was born in 1969, I was a child in the 70's, a teenager in the 80's. I also grew up in a small town in rural Vermont, so however behind the times were, my part of the world was even more so. I remember being really stoked because we had a color TV with three channels. I remember how awesome it was to have our own, private phone line (vs a party line). I remember telephones with dials, the long, twisted cord that held the receiver to the body of the phone (which was screwed into the wall.) and fighting over it because there was only one in the house. There was no such thing as an answering machine. People were home to answer or they weren't. There was no call waiting, just a busy signal. I remember in the 80's when VCR's first came out. The idea of being able to watch a movie in your own home was mindblowing. You could rent a VCR with your evening movies. They were really expensive so very few households had their own. There was also something called "Beta" that was like a smaller VCR tape, but they didn't last long. I remember playing "Pong" and "Pac-man" on my uber-modern Atari video game. The first portable phones were enormous car-phones that only the very important and the very wealthy had. They were sort of a status symbol, and I only ever saw them on TV. They were big, blocky things with antennas. When I was older and took my first computer course, the discs were actually floppy and what we were learning was MS DOS. I'm telling you, the world was an entirely different place.

It was sort of a trade off I suppose. I miss people actually looking into each others faces when they talk. Now, everybody always walks with their heads down because they are looking at their phones. Manners and people-skills have completely disappeared. THAT feels like a real loss. Nobody really connects anymore, but I've kind of gone off on a tangent I hadn't intended to go on.

Connecting in today's world means being proficient with all the social-media options available. And it's not enough to be proficient with just one. You have to be able to navigate most of them, AND make them talk to each other to reach the maximum number of people. YEAH for how small the world has become as a result of all the new ways there are to connect, but woe to those of us who struggle with the logistics! I think I sort of did it though. I figured out how to post this blog on Twitter and have it automatically post on my fan page on Facebook. I like the fan page idea, because it gives me a place for my shameless self-promotion without bombarding my friends who may not give a rat's furry behind about my book. Cool Beans :-) But I realize that the small bit that I've managed is just that; the tip of the iceberg. There is much left for me to tackle, and I feel like a tyrannosaur trying to do it with my ineffective, tiny arms.

 Don't worry about me though. I'll figure it out :-)

The Kristel Show

Photo: Tom Coggio

in·tro·vert  (ntr-vûrt, ntr-vûrt)tr.v. in·tro·vert·ed, in·tro·vert·ing, in·tro·verts

1. To turn or direct inward.

2. Psychology To concentrate (one's interests) upon oneself

(From  www.thefreedictionary.com )

Yup, that's me. Let's face it, I didn't become a writer because I was a social butterfly who loved being out and about. Out and about in the woods on a beautiful day, especially on a horse? YES. In public, where people are? Not so much. Sure, I've done lots of socializing, but I usually would only go out if I knew the band or I was drunk (or more often, both). I would love the music and hang with folks, but even so I felt like I was still in my own little bubble, jamming to my own wavelength. Check out the photo on the right: I'm the sullen-looking one in the middle, flanked by my very outgoing sister and very outgoing daughter who felt entirely comfortable smiling for the camera (as per the usual). Lets be clear though; I'm not ACTUALLY sullen, or shy, or insecure, or any of those other undesirable qualities that folks tend to equate with my hermit-like behavior. I'm sort of awesome in a twisted and humorous way. I'm just not much of an attention seeker. But that needs to change, and I need to find a way to do it well, my way :-)

Our whole lives, we all called my sister the "Kerrie Show". Whatever was happening, she always had to be at the center of it. My mother is also very outgoing, having no trouble whatsoever giving lectures on humor and health to large groups of people and unerringly creating a joyful and happy atmosphere. I spent much of my time pouring over books of all kinds at the library, or hiding in the barn cleaning my saddle while rocking-out to 80's hair bands on the radio. Then I had my daughter, another outgoing personality in my orbit. How do I compete with that? Historically, there has been no point in trying, and furthermore I have never felt the desire to be the center of attention. My brain is SO busy that I LIKE being observy, I like having the time to process what's going on without all eyes on me. THAT is why I write; because I can do so in relative isolation, in a bubble of quiet (and in my dinosaur pajamas, dammit). But hiding under a rock doesn't sell books. I believe that it really aught to in a fair world, and if it did I'd be a marketing GENIUS, but alas it is not to be.

I have to get out there. And I'm realizing that in order to do that I need not compete with any other "Show". I just need to create "The Kristel Show", a stand-alone unit of entertainment and fun that is unique and present and selling books :-) I need to get comfortable with the idea that promoting my work is part of my job, not some narcissistic need for attention and praise. So I'm going to do it, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I've worked really hard to own and occupy my space. So, welcome to The Kristel Show :-)

By the way, here's me book: "In Stone"

Perception

Photo: Taylor Baranova

I've spent much of my life trying to be realistic. Also, trying to manage my expectations so as not to be disappointed, to find satisfaction in my current situation and to, essentially, 'take it where I can get it' because "life is what it is". I've always believed that magic happens to other people, that I can only fantasize but never realize amazing possibilities. That I simply am not enough because other people are better at anything I could ever hope to achieve. I have always believed that the best I can hope for is the opportunity to work hard enough at doing something I hate, that I can afford at least a taste of the things I have a passion for. Having that psychic baggage has given me a view of reality that isn't realistic at all, but actually PESSIMISTIC. It's not a perspective that provides energy for great things or for change. It is a perspective that has kept me small, kept my thoughts small, kept my expectations small. In short, not helpful in any regard. And I know better.

And what is reality if not perception? What gives us the energy to do great things? Certainly not by believing that great things are beyond our reach. Most definitely not by focusing on managing nothing more than the minutia of our day to day lives. There is a proverb that goes "If you aim for the moon you may reach the top of the highest tree, but if you aim for the top of the tree you may never get off the ground". It sounds about right to me. It also implies that we have some power over the direction we take. That was perhaps the most difficult lesson to learn: I have power. I have been told by so many people in so many ways (some subtle, some not-so-subtle) that I don't have any power, that my opinion isn't worthwhile, that I don't have a right to my beliefs for one reason or another (and how DARE I be offended by that!). Learning where my strength comes from was a real breakthrough, and I had to learn it for myself in my own way and in my own time. The truth is we don't need someone to tell us what we're worth, we don't need pieces of paper to tell us that we're smart, we don't need money to have influence. A truly powerful person, though they may have those thing, doesn't NEED them to own their place in the world. It's a work in progress for me, but I've shed the worst of it.

I believe this idea can be taken a step further. Not only do we create our reality through perception on a philosophical level, but likely in a tangible, physical way as well. Several years ago I was introduced to Dr. Masaru Emoto's research on the effects of emotion on water molecules. It was a unique perspective on how the energy we project into the world acts on the world around us. Super cool :-) It's old news at this point but still sticks in my noggin as a reminder. Again, a work in progress for me.

One of the difficulties in 'changing shape' is that it makes the folks around us uncomfortable. Sometimes those who are the closest have the most difficult time. We don't just see ourselves as singular entities, but by who we are in relation to others, at least on some level. When those others evolve, it can be genuinely difficult to accept and assimilate the changes, sometimes to the point of outright refusal. I've seen this played out occasionally and it's weird, but common enough that it appears to be a legitimate pattern.  I feel lucky to be, and to be surrounded by, flexible, secure people who are amenable to positive changes in other folks. I feel all kinds of observy right now :-)

I guess this post was my long-winded way of saying if there is anything you want to do (well, anything that doesn't cuase harm to yourself or another, hehe), do it. Don't wait for the stars to align, align them. Don't wait until you have more time, make time. And I say this as much to myself as to you. I know sometimes the things we want most don't always pan out, but it doesn't mean failure. It means hammer at it some more in a different way. Don't let it go because you are distracted by the day to day. DO IT. :-)

Publication

Photo: scotlandpubliclibrary.org

So, it looks like I'm getting published. Like for real. It's strange how 'weightless' I feel about the whole situation. In my fantasy world, my scary little book would come out right before Halloween, and it looks like that is exactly what is going to happen. It's strange to think that I actually finished the "marathon".

It didn't go smoothly for me. There are some writers who can sit down, focus and be brilliant in six months. I am not one of them. Perhaps part of it is lack of experience. Who knows. I am not one of those naive individuals that believe in the 'waiting for inspiration' fallacy, either. Writing is work. It is awesome and largely fulfilling work, but work nonetheless. At least for me. I suppose it's different for everyone. I will admit though, that on a good day I struggle for every bit of focus I am ultimately allowed. So what. It takes as long as it takes. And it probably took a lot longer than it should have. I wrote the last line on 11/11/11. Everything else since has been clean up, editing, etc. I finally had to admit that it was never going to be perfect, so waiting until it was was futile.

I don't think my book is beautifully written. I don't think it's supposed to be. It's a narrative about the most terrifying six months of my life. There were beautiful moments, but they were fleeting and buried within the greater horror of the rest of the story. It is what it is. As the writer, I'm completely incapable of being objective. I can only hope that you are entertained and engaged by my story, and that you come away from it feeling some of the abject terror experienced by the characters. Such a noble goal, hehe...

I have had the book and all work related to it in my life for so long that it seemed strange to just hand it over. Now comes the second most terrifying part: Putting it out there for the world to see. Sure, I do that in increments with this blog and have done it on a small scale with little things that I've written. I was really encouraged by how many people read the short story I wrote for you folks last Halloween (and a little frightened by how many more hits the end got than the other parts...so dark and twisty!). Anyway, thank you for that. It helped to give me the courage I needed to say "Here, go put that out into the world for anyone to access". I feel like I just bought a sort of lottery ticket, but one where I risk considerably more than a couple of bucks. But that's what it's about. Sometimes the only way forward is to look fear in the face, tell it off, and move forward anyway. So this is me being brave.  Stay tuned to this spot for the shameless self-promotion to come, and thank you for, well...being you :-)

Cultivating Abundance

Photo: www.organicveggiestarts.com

I read an article a couple of days ago about a Vermont family who farms with Fjord horses. I couldn't help but think "Wow, what a great life that must be". It has been buzzing around my noggin ever since. As always, the question "what if?" kept rolling around my head as it so often does and it's lead me to a strange and seemingly random thought: What if I wanted to do organic farming with horses? On the surface, the idea seems a bit crazy. But the more I think about it, the less crazy it appears. I know that part of this train of thought (and the randomness of my new obsession HAS hit me a bit like a train) is that my daughter and I struggle to eat healthy. The healthier we eat, the more we struggle with bills and we STILL aren't eating the way we would like to. Poor diet has damaged us both, though not yet irreversibly: I have type 2 diabetes and my daughter is pretty severely iron deficient. NOT cool. The problem isn't knowledge or portion control. The problem isn't that we like to eat crap--we don't. The problem for us has been the cost of healthy food. I know that's pretty ridiculous in this country, but food insecurity is a very real problem for many families and getting worse all the time.

And that's not the only problem. I'm feeling more and more scared and paranoid about where our food is actually coming from. Monsanto continues to do what it does, despite the mounting evidence that GMOs can and do cause significant health problems. Unfortunately for the majority of folks in this country (myself included) the farm subsidies that this agricultural giant continues to enjoy mean that they are the only affordable option. Not cool.

I have had little gardens in the past (though I can't here in my fourth-floor apartment!) and have really enjoyed and appreciated being able to go pick myself a fresh salad whenever I felt like it. I have grown everything I like at one time or another (thanks to my grandparents who turned me on to gardening) and there's something very satisfying about the work. It's kind of funny, really. I'm germ-phobic and bugs freak me out, but I have no problem at all with getting my hands garden-dirty and picking bugs off plants. It's like I go into a zone. It's very similar to the kind of zone I went into when I was cleaning stalls: I (and my friend Autumn) called the flashes of brilliance that occurred during stall-cleaning "Muck-piphanies" and well, I kind of miss them. I tried to replicate the same sort of conditions with walking, but there are just way too many people around to really get 'in the zone' and I ended up doing this to myself (oddly enough, I have cleaned stalls with lots of people around too, and it wasn't at all bothersome. Horse people are different: We would either all be in a zone, or engaged in easy, pleasant conversation). Add to that the weird limbo-like disconnect that I've been struggling with; it makes the idea of getting up with outdoor, physical work to do every morning sound especially appealing.

When I moved to town, I thought I would appreciate how easy things were. I thought I would like to have the chance to sleep in, to not have the constant pull of things needing to be done. I thought that the time and space would help my writing, and that the proximity to people would provide me with a sense of security that I felt I lacked in the boonies. Financially, I NEEDED to do this and the financial pressure was significantly relieved for awhile. But this isn't who I am. All I've done since I've lived here is fantasized about having horses again, getting my hands dirty and seeing stars unencumbered by the lights from town. I miss hearing the friggin' crickets and frogs. I will admit that I did feel a bit more secure for awhile, but then my neighbors started selling drugs and shooting at each other and that tiny bit of security that I felt disappeared. My writing didn't flourish (though I did finish a book and start another): I struggle like crazy with focus--a problem I didn't have when I had fresh air and physical work to do. And do you know that I haven't really 'slept in' once? I guess I'm just not wired that way.

Initially, I tried to talk myself out of even thinking about this. It would require major life-changes and quite a learning curve. I know how to work with horses, though not for farming. I know how to grow vegetables, but not what is involved in growing certified organic vegetables on even a small commercial scale. Perhaps the biggest obstacle appears to be start-up costs. I did a quickie internet search with this in mind, and found an obscene number of grants and resources available for organic farm start-ups. It lead me to do a quick market analysis which indicated a HUGE demand that appears to be an upward-moving trend.  What if?

What if I were able to procure a grant and buy a small farm? What if I rented part of it to a farmer committed to humanely raising grass-fed beef? What if this farming-partner was willing to do the things I really hate about farm life (haying and mowing) and all I had to worry about was growing great vegetables? What if I decided to add raspberries and blueberries? Maybe some eggs? What if I could use my horses and land to sustain myself and feed others?

I am very well-aware of my tendency to chase rainbows. I also know that I continue to chase them because doing so has been reinforced by varying degrees of success. I have learned a lot this way, and am ready and willing to learn more. Right now, I'm going to sit with this for a bit and treat it like a research project. Maybe the research will turn into a business plan, and maybe it won't. In the meantime though, it is certainly an interesting idea:-)

A Journey of a Thousand Miles...

I've spent a lot of time paralyzed. I've imagined all sorts of possibilities for myself, both positive and negative. I've allowed myself to be so consumed by immediate need that it swallowed me whole. I've let fear overwhelm me and a thousand little things stand in the way of forward movement. I think all of those things are understandable sometimes, especially in the wake of sadness, deep disappointment and hurt that is hard to process and amidst the loud babble of unmet needs. DooDoo happens. But how long it happens for can be entirely flexible. I don't mean that, all of a sudden, all of those distractions are just going to go away. I have learned that distractions and hardship persist; people will always behave in ways that defy my personal view of fair or reasonable and the one thing that I can control is how I react to it. There is power in that notion. Think about it: The whole world can be crumbling down around you, but if you decide you are having a beautiful day, nothing can touch you.

It's a powerful place to be, above the influence of hurt and fear. All our most base instincts want us to react, to share our pain, to let those around us know we suffer and to blame the randomness of circumstance for that suffering. I've done it. At times, my reaction to those who have hurt me has been to hurt them back. And what an ugly cycle. So much better to reframe, to decide that hurtful people have no place in our lives and to move forward accordingly. When what's detrimental is dislodged, it leaves a space to be filled by someone or something positive. This I know. I also know that Karma serves us all. It doesn't matter how badly somebody has treated you, because it all comes around in the end. Your job is to stay compassionate, keep your own behavior above reproach and move on. You don't have to wait for the pain to stop to move forward, you just have to make the decision.

I have goals. I have set them aside and waited. I've waited for my computer so I would have my materials, I have waited for the chaos around me to subside, I have waited for the proverbial "sign". I have wasted a lot of time and I can't wait anymore. Sometimes moving forward means having to backtrack, so that's what I'll do. It will take longer, but not as long as I've already waited. My life is, and has been, on hold. I'm tired of waiting for the stars to align. Yes, I am afraid of failure. I've put a lot of eggs in one basket. I've worked long and hard without pay with the expectation of an eventual payoff. When is "eventual"?

Some say I've done the most difficult part already, but that's subjective. For me, the writing is the easy part; it's what comes next that presents me with the greatest challenge. But like any journey, it begins with the first step...

Full Moon

I'm no astrologer, but long-time interest in astrology has given me enough insight to know that the full moon symbolizes endings and completion. I'm not sure that that notion has ever been more true than now. The last few weeks have kicked some a** (sometimes via my loved ones) in terms of endings and good-byes, life-altering changes, burned bridges and some not-so-happy surprises. And it isn't the first time.

I have noticed over time that, as much as I resist change fervently, it occurs without warning and without the courtesy of awaiting input from me. That's life. Without change there could be no improvement, no forward movement. Without endings, no magical beginnings could ever occur. It would all be the same, all the time. Comforting, maybe. Stimulating, invigorating, the stuff of being alive? Not so much. I love that my age has provided me with at least some ability to be philosophical.

The pain of loss evaporates over time. I have learned that much. As much as we try to cling to the threads of memory, most of the details dissipate like smoke over time. At first we panic as we cling to them, but it's a natural process. We HAVE to let go or we don't heal. The more we do it, the better we get at it. It's how we eventually can look back and smile when we remember those we've lost. Even when those losses are by choice and not forced by death we can sometimes have those moments of happy memory.

Mourning is easy. It's not something that we think about and must orchestrate. It takes us over and takes us down. All we have to do is succumb to it until it allows us to surface once again for air. That's when the real work begins. The work of rebuilding the life destroyed in the wake of loss. Like any journey, it begins with one step, and then another. Sometimes those first steps are shaky and uncertain, but become more and more deliberate as the road ahead opens up before you. This is the important part. Deciding who you want to be and learning how to be in the world without your loved one.

And you really DO get to decide. With every end, a new beginning. With winter's passing comes the spring. How timely to think of it that way. As painful as things can be, eventually the sun comes out again and it can feel like seeing it for the very first time. It will warm your face and make you smile and remind you how beautiful life is, right now, and how much is out there waiting for you. You can do this. You've done it before and it just made you stronger and smarter. All will be well again, I promise.

For my loved ones who have suffered so much the last few weeks...

Mythunderstanding

I read an article the other day in which a dog trainer stated "I can't imagine any training situation in which I would employ a prong collar". I'm glad she said it that way. There was an addendum to the article that went on to ask "How hard a jerk on the collar is enough to have the desired effect of suppressing behavior without mentally or physically damaging the dog?" as though "jerking on the collar" is part and parcel of prong collar use and suppressing behavior is ever a desired goal. And even more disturbing to me "...if you punish in anger and your violence is reinforced, you are likely to get violent more, and more easily." HOLY CRAP. Do people really believe that this is what a prong collar is all about? And shouldn't a trainer have the education to know better? Having said that, if someone can't imagine a positive and practical use for this tool and has only been exposed to violence (!?) and misuse, then I agree: Don't include a prong collar in your box of training tools. You don't understand it well enough to use it humanely. But please, be self-aware enough to refer out any dog that doesn't fit within the limits of your training abilities.

It seems to be a very common thing these days: Using words like "cruel", "pain" and "never", and describing horrifyingly incorrect applications as "techniques for prong collar use" and then using this misinformation to perpetuate X, Y or Z training philosophy to the exclusion of all else. Look, if you don't like something, that's fine. If you think it's mean, to YOUR understanding, then that's your prerogative too. But if you are a teacher/trainer, then you have an obligation to educate yourself well enough to give factual information to your clients and NOT just perpetuate myths because they are convenient. Even if you have no interest in using a prong collar, you should at least make the effort to learn the truth about them instead of continuing to recycle the same misinformation. I like to tell horror stories as much as the next guy (okay, probably more than the next guy) but I don't try to pass them off as something they aren't.

So you train pets, and maybe do an AKC sport or two. The vast majority of dogs that you work with would never make it as a working dog because they don't have the temperament, and that's as it should be. Everybody's happy and you can go right on hating prong collars. But what do you do when a client has a tenacious, drivey working dog? You know what I mean, the confident kind that's powerful and strong and physically insensitive. How much do you think this dog gets walked, when, even after lots of training, there are still moments when this dog takes it's owner for a drag after a cat or squirrel? How happy do you think this dog is when he's permanently relegated (aka "managed") to doggie prison (the back yard), given to a shelter or killed because he's too much for his owner, all-positive training isn't cutting it and his owner is out of his or her depth? This is the side the issue that I've seen too often. Add to this the blame that gets aimed at the owner because their dog doesn't fit in "the box" and you probably are looking at a dog with a fairly limited life-span. As trainers, you have a responsibility to do better by the dogs in your care and the owners who come to you and pay you for your help. You have more responsibility for those lives than you do to adherence to a limited set of principles. Many of the best trainers I know don't like prong collars, but they can at least imagine a positive application and understand the need to be flexible when dealing with living and unique individuals.

<sup>Let me be clear here: This isn't my favorite tool. I agree that it's easy to abuse. What I object to is the perpetuation of misinformation by people who are in a position to know better and properly educate their students, and the perpeutuation of misinformation by people who don't have a clue simply because they lack the experience. As always I turn to Susan Clothier for common sense. She doesn't like prong collars either but understands (albeit reluctantly) they still have a place: Training With The Prong Collar 

Ms. Clothier doesn't just say "These are mean and you're a cruel S.O.B. if you use them". She has the wisdom and experience to share her opinion honestly but can add a real education based on an accurate understanding, not just incendiary and incorrect propaganda.</sup>

History

"Spooky Tree" photo by Lana Pinto

 I did it, or started it at least. I finally looked into the history of The Infamous Brown House. And it was FUN. I have seen it done on TV, but the reality was far more confusing and less conclusive than anything fictional. For starters, the inevitable Startling Revelation Involving Microfiche was not part of my actual experience. It began with perusing listings to find the picture and subsequently the address of the house. I recognized it right away, a feeling in my gut more than anything. From there it was a search though enormous book after enormous book; each getting older and harder to read than the one before it. I learned that the neighbor's outrageous account of the house's history was not only feasible, but likely. I followed up my trip to the town clerk with a visit to the public library. I searched the few historical tomes available; black and white and sepia windows on a past I could scarcely imagine. Though there were many interesting anecdotes about the area, none were specific enough to be useful. I learned that yes, the original structure was indeed built in the late 1800's, that fires were common and bears were a danger. Nothing supported the specifics of the haunting (though the prevalence of fire was certainly interesting, considering), but nothing negated it either. The ladies at the library were incredibly helpful and interested in the book. They suggested that I contact the historical society, which I've done. Now, I wait. At least this time I wait with interest and eagerness and without fear.

I enjoyed my research. Though my initial pass revealed nothing conclusive, I was taken in by the spirit of these early Vermonters and it made me want to know more. More story ideas perhaps? I do love my monsters but ghost stories, especially those based in historical fact, could be a hell of a good yarn too. In fact, a good ghost story would be my favorite thing to curl up with (in addition to an afghan and a warm beverage) on a wet or cold day. Hmm...It really is up to me, isn't it? But first, I need to get this project done and out there.

 I don't think it's a secret that I like to escape into fictional realms of my own creation (which my current project isn't), but it bears mentioning again just the same. When the world is a rapidly rotating vortex of sad circumstances, financial stress, political ugliness and an unnatural state of being (read: my current horse-less-ness), I like to make myself a cup of strong Irish tea and visit a place where all is possible: my own imagination. Just because my current project remains stuck in the pipeline does not mean I can't do something else too. Sometimes, when all else just seems to be beyond my ability to manage it, just the act of doing something, anything really, can break the spell of stagnation. And it has given me an idea.

Halloween is coming. I love Halloween, I love the spooky atmosphere, the darkening sky, the wind and the blowing leaves. I love that I think I saw somebody staring down at me from the window of the empty apartment next door, and that sometimes I hear things. What if...

Until next time:-)