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Mom’s mysterious “Leaf Heart” created by the wind, 2007 — my Talisman — DawnSeeker

“The 3 G’s” (Given to me in a Dream) — Greatness. Goodness. Gratitude.

Sometimes we receive inspiration in strange, otherworldly ways. I heard myself saying these words in a dream last week, and I’ve recalled the details here.

Hope you’re thriving and more than just surviving during these frustrating, interesting times!  

DawnSeeker

Recap of my recent VIVID Dream:

I look out to a crowd, maybe 50 or 60 people, standing or sitting in small groups, gathered outside my door.

Who are these people? I wonder. What’s this all about?

I walk out to see what’s going on.

~~~~

It seems they are here because of me!

I am to give some sort of a talk; address . . .

I’m being called on to inspire these people in some way!

~~~~

On The Radio . . .

Trying to get a better grasp on things, I sit on the lawn next to a fair-haired millennial-aged man — he clasps my hand, looks hopefully into my eyes — and tells me that he heard about “the Event” (THIS Event!) on the Radio!

What???

“The radio,” I hear myself tell him. “That makes sense. My Dad was a radio man.”

(And he truly was. Dad’s Big Band music played live on the radio, as well as nightly at Disneyland — see my post, “You can do ANYTHING!” for more about Dad and his music.)

 

My Dad (foreground, saxophone) and my Uncle Lloyd (trombone) at the Carnation Plaza Gardens Bandstand at Disneyland (mid-50s) — The Elliott Brothers Orchestra (AKA: The Disneyland Date-Niters)

~~~~

“Wow,” I say to myself, “I better go get cleaned up!”

It seems I need to change clothes and get presentable for this important occasion . . .

I go inside. I see my daughter, musician EllaHarp, and ask, “Ella, you gotta help me here. Will you please go out and entertain these people while I get ready?”

I dash up to take a shower. From below, I hear Ella’s music, strong — rhythmic, upbeat. “Great,” I say to myself, relieved. “Good job!” Her harp and vocals have me covered.

(EllaHarp — https://ellaharp.com/about/)

~~~~

But . . . What will I talk about?

Now it occurs to me, “What will I say??? They came to hear me speak — but about what?”

And then, in my dream, I hear my inner voice calmly speak: “I will talk about ‘The 3 G’s’ — Greatness. Goodness. Gratitude.”

~~~~

Upon Awakening . . .

As with many dreams, I never gave the talk — my dream ended right there.

But I awoke with a very conscious recall, and found myself fascinated by “The 3 G’s” topic.

I have never heard of “The 3 G’s” before . . .

I repeated the words, so I wouldn’t forget: “Greatness. Goodness. Gratitude.”

~~~~

 

“The 3 G’s”

Inspired by the message received from my dream, here is what I might have said for my motivational presentation.

Here is what “The 3 G’s” mean to me.   DawnSeeker

~~~~

 

Greatness

Since I love word searches, I opened up my trusty, well-used copy of Webster’s New World Dictionary, and found the following excerpts:

Great: Large in size, number, quantity; much higher, above the ordinary or average; existing in a high degree; intense. Eminent; illustrious; superior. Very impressive or imposing; having or showing nobility of mind, purpose, etc.

Eminent: Rising above other things or places; high; lofty. Standing high by comparison with others; renowned; exalted; distinguished. Outstanding; remarkable; noteworthy. (see famous — fame; great reputation; celebrity.

~~~~

I see Greatness as rising above the ordinary, the everyday, and applying one’s highest standard to work, thought, morals, and behavior.

Greatness calls upon each individual to tune-in and utilize our God-given gifts and talents. It’s what sets each one of us apart — our unique individual hopes, wishes, dreams and desires.

My Grandma nailed it in her philosophy about Life:

You Gotta Wanna 

Grandma had a saying
I still can hear her tell:
Talent alone won’t make you great,
But an inner quality will.

She said: You gotta wanna,
What ‘ere you do in life —
And that your burning passion
Overcomes obstacles and strife . . .

To read the rest, see my post: You Gotta Wanna 

Big extended family :))

~~~~

Inventory Time:

What are you best at? What do you gravitate towards?

What are your special interests, loves, desires?

For me:

HORSES!
Writing and keeping a journal
Poetry
Photography
Brainstorming & problem-solving
Entrepreneurship
Animal Communications
Mountains, Beaches, Tropics, Outdoors . . .

These are the ongoing themes of my Life.

~~~~

What Lights Your Fire?

I suggest you take an inventory of the driving forces in your Life, and see how these line up with how you are living today.

Re-align. Resolve. Re-work those priorities into the forefront of your activities — and see how they can guide you into fulfilling your highest dreams.

(Sounds like: “The 3 R’s” to me :))

Get creative! Go for it!

See what you can turnaround, fine-tune, enlighten — and how you can infuse your Life with the magic you’ve always hoped for!

~~~~

Goodness

More from Webster’s:

Goodness: Virtue; excellence; kindness; generosity; benevolence. The best part, essence, or valuable property of a thing.

Virtue: General moral excellence; right action and thinking; goodness of character. Excellence; merit; value; good quality or feature.

Generosity: Nobility of mind; magnanimity; willingness to give or share; being unselfish.

Magnanimous: Noble in mind; high-souled; generous or overlooking injury or insult; rising above pettiness or meanness.

Benevolence: Inclination to do good; kindliness; charitable activity; gift.

~~~~

“My Goodness Project”

Goodness is a topic dear to my heart.

I’ve researched it for many years, and I actively do my best to remain true to Goodness. To honor it. Cultivate it. To raise myself to it’s lofty heights.

I practice what I refer to as “My Goodness Project” where I give out mementos — usually horse shoe nails, often to strangers — and tell a small story of their importance.

I also practice a habit of “Ringing The Bell” when something Good happens.

Here is an excerpt from my post on the topic:

Ring The Bell!

Here’s a little ritual I’ve done for many years:  When something Good happens, I ring a bell!

Cow bells, large and small. Jingle bells. Hand bells. Hanging bells . . .

Enjoy this little poem about the magic released by this small, humble act.

Heaven’s Bells!

When ‘ere a Good thing happens,
I like to ring a bell!
So something Good gets recognition
Just for being swell.

All kinds of chatter follows
Those things that are bad.
But when a Good thing happens,
We must show just how glad

We are Good joined us —
And dropped in for a spell.
Heaven knows there’s far too much
Attention paid to hell

To read the rest, see my post: Ring The Bell!

What’s Your Goodness Project?

I suggest you be on the lookout for your custom-fit “Goodness Project” distilled from what you have gleaned in Life.

Poetry. Music. Art. Spontaneous conversations. Smiles. Reaching out to strangers.

Sharing whatever quirks or artifacts your lifestyle, your persona, stands for — that adds to the greater good. 

~~~~

Circular Rainbow – known as a Glory – made by an airplane when the shadow hit a cloud flying en route Honolulu to Molokai 2014 :))

Gratitude

Gratitude: A feeling of thankful appreciation for favors or benefits received; warm, appreciative response to kindness; thankfulness. (Excerpt, Webster’s New World Dictionary)

~~~~

What better way to move our energy forward in Life, than to embrace and exude gratitude!

Actions, of course, speak louder than words. Gifts, cards, calls, visits, texts, can all exhibit gratitude. 

For really, we have far more to be grateful for than we often remember.

Gratitude Is . . .

In looking through my Journal I discovered this colorful, long-ago Gratitude List.

I smile in reading it now — and hope you will do the same. :))   DawnSeeker

Gratitude Journal

Gratitude is a wavelet glinting aqua kaleidoscopes in an endless sea.
Gratitude is a cottonwood leaf dancing in the morning breeze.
Gratitude is a tall cloud, puffy white and gray, tinged with pink at the end of the day.
Gratitude is a nicker from your favorite horse. And her soft muzzle in your hand.
Gratitude is a healing balm that melts away life’s sorrows.

To read the rest, see my post: Gratitude is . . .

~~~~

What’s on Your Gratitude List?

So what are you grateful for? Grab a journal; start a list.

Write a card to thank someone who has helped you along Life’s journey.

Come up with a ritual to refresh your Gratitude memories, and meditate on all the Good in your Life.

(This is a very productive strategy! Mentally rehearsing and re-living previous successes triggers readiness for achieving fresh new ones. It fine-tunes your intuition and provides an heads-up for when you are in range of a great idea, connection, or experience.)

Brainstorm the ways you can express more Gratitude to fill your reservoirs to overflowing :))

~~~~

Dream On! 

In reading over my journal entries on the preceding topics, it would make sense that “The 3 G’s” would appear in my dream, drawn from the depths of my soul, for my impromptu motivational speech.

Turns out I’ve been doing my best to live “The 3 G’s” for many years now — and they’ve served me well.

(Yet, in writing this, the biting reality hits: I can — and will! — strive to do better in accomplishing my lofty goals. We imperfect humans shall always remain a “work in progress” . . . see my post, Self-Talk.)

Best to you in these endeavors! Please feel free to share your experiences. And may your dreams, as well as mine, continue to come true :))

DawnSeeker

~~~~

Copyright 2020

Photos: Dawn Jenkins

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Dawn’s a Life-long Horse Girl —

Please visit Dawn’s Horse Blog:  Soul Horse Ride :))

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Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Meet Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Frustration April, 2009

Difficult Times — Frustration!

First the lock-downs. Now the riots. Absolute frustration! I had this draft in queue a month into the lock-down. Seems fitting to share it now.

“This too, shall pass”

I discovered some older journal entries from similarly challenging times (2006, 2009), when I wrote out my frustrations in attempt to overcome them. I remember, at the time, how writing about my angst actually helped.

For most of us — until now — things have greatly improved since then (2008 recession) . . . yet with the lock-down, the quarantine, the isolation we all feel, we’re back into Difficult Times. (And in recent days: Riots! Looting! Tearing Down, instead of Building Up :((

So I’m posting these as reminders, for me, for you — somehow, “This too, shall pass.”

Let’s live our best, not our worst. Destruction is easy. Rebuilding, renewing — that’s the difficult part! And that’s the part we all need.

Stay well!    DawnSeeker

Frustration prompts me to pray,
Pray, pray to God
That I be inside His will.

Frustration wraps me in angst
At night in my little bed,
Afraid of the coming light.

Frustration befriends me, insults me.
Beats my self-image
To the point of forgetting why I’m here.

Only to reach out further, with more
Heart-felt angst,
And press deeper into its hateful hands —

Pushing, reeling, reacting. Reaching
Out to my Creator,
For the key that sets me free.

Repetition, repetition, the same numbing lines,
Repeated over and over,
Like a life-line that my fingers cannot feel.

“But faith is the substance of things hoped for,
The evidence of things unseen . . .”
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for

The evidence of things unseen . . .”
In the face of frustration, my substance
Exists in faith — or not?

More and more my life becomes mental,
Even in the face of physical action,
Of horses and weddings and friendships.

I cower inside my mental me,
Criticizing.
Compromising.

I know I’ll die and wonder what exists
On the other side…
So near?

Have I fulfilled my mission?
Wasted my time?
Loved and lived enough?

Does my life fulfill my contract?
Do justice to the genes?
Is Grandma proud?

How do I deal with my life’s frustrations?
Honorably, I hope.
What mental oil will grease my wheels?

Can bills-due really run my life? Commitments?
Must Life be more?
It must!

And I must break my mental prison
And I must be here,
Here and now,

And not tucked inside the balance of my
Just-in-time
Bank account.

But the eyes of those I look into,
Those are the wealth.
And the time we “waste”

And the frustrations we share
Are the exit-hose
For all the frustrations.

So go. Get out of bed. And live.
Share. Take the risks
Of rejection, of failure . . . of success.

Climb the mountain of commitment
One blessed step,
One blessed look,

At a time.

And it worked! So much has improved since then. Off the wheel, out of the rat-race. Shifting perspective and priorities to embrace greater possibilities.

Difficult Times
December, 2006

Difficult times are
when we show
what we’re
made of —
cursing or blessing,
gratitude or angst.

It’s when we get to
dig deep into the
goodness God’s
placed in us.
And overcome
fears with faith.

Palpable faith.
Present. Real.
Listen up —
God wants a chat
with me,
with you,
NOW!

(from my handwritten journal, @4:00 am)

After all, Difficult Times appear in every life, every generation. It’s up to us to find a way to deal with them. To open inner gateways. To seek solutions, within ourselves, and exercise self-discipline. To open our eyes to the beauty that surrounds us :))

DawnSeeker

Copyright © 2020, 2006, 2009 Dawn Jenkins

Photos:  Dawn Jenkins

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Dawn’s a Life-long Horse Girl —

Please visit Dawn’s Horse Blog:  Soul Horse Ride :))

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Pep Talk to Myself: I Trust You!

This is a tough one. Because we aren’t always good at being good to ourselves.

How often do we stop and appreciate all that we have in Life — our homes, cars, pets, possessions — and the family and people who make up our inner circle?

We do our best to reach out and let those close beacon-friends know what they mean to us.

But what about ourselves? Do we take our own selves for granted?

Here is the Pep Talk I found myself earnestly espousing the other day, while pulling prickly weeds — a task I didn’t particularly want to do.

As important as it seems, how often do we thank ourselves for the goodness we strive for? Maybe you, too, could whip up a little Pep Talk honoring the goodness in you :)) Best!

DawnSeeker

Dear Dawn,

Have I mentioned lately, how much I appreciate you, and all that you do?

I watched you pulling weeds out at the horses last week, and I realized — I trust you! I trust you to do the right thing.

(Oh how the stickers hurt my hands, how I didn’t want to finish yanking up the row of sharp-tufted intruders. But I watched your gloved fingers pull up the pests; I watched you grab for every dropped seed head — and squatting, up and down, knees creaking — finish the row, it took a good hour!, until all were in your bucket.)

And I realized, watching you, how reliable you are! And I realized how little I’ve shared my gratitude with you . . . (see my post, Self-Talk).

I’ve watched you my entire life. Like a friend. Like a lover.

When something needs doing (not the little things like a very tidy, organized house — I understand your limitations here), but whatever really needs doing, you rise to, and accomplish.

In thinking about all you have done for me, I realize how you have kept me safe. Alive. You are trustworthy. You are true.

You drive me in the car, you feed me, you tell me when it’s time for sleep.

You raised your kids and scaled the endless, day-to-day mountain of motherhood!

You drove them and fed them and provided for them. You laughed, you cried. You instilled good values in them — and your kids are strong and resilient.

You are strong. You are tough. And I thank you.

I can depend on you!

I trust you :))

Stay well. Stay strong. Stay true!

Dawn

Well, my Pep Talk proved productive!

Since writing this, I have worked on taxes, tidied up a big stack of papers from my desk, and pulled several hours of weeds. Hurray!

As they say, ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar’ :))

So Pep-Talk-on!

DawnSeeker

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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Soul Horse Ride

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Copyright 2020

Photos: Dawn Jenkins; photo of Dawn, T. Turner

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Short Story —

Mask and Chainmaille such as mined on Planet Enos

The mist thickened — Brett Barrett shivered in his cocoon.

Planet Enos thumbed her fog at all the Southern Colonies this time of year, as if in protest to their interrupting her per-settlement simplicity — before the landings. Before the swarm. Before the tunnels, the mines. Before the Zimaplanes and Vendicopes that now rattle her surface and agitate her to the core.

Enos wondered — what could she do to shake these strange trespassers?

Brett wondered — what could he to to keep warm, here on the Great Steppe? Far from the civilized colonies.

~~~

Mom’s mysterious “Leaf Heart” created by the wind, 2007, my Talisman —   DawnSeeker

First Fiction!

My husband and I have been reading aloud to one another every evening since the Coronavirus Lock-Down first occurred. Fairy tales, mystery books, memoirs, humor — and I wondered, what if I try my hand at some fiction? I started with a prompt from a photograph I shot on a walk through our quiet, rural neighborhood, and gave myself 15 minutes to rough out the first two handwritten pages. By next day, I had this short story, scribbled in longhand, in my journal.

Here goes my first attempt at fiction writing — an interesting process! Stay safe out there, everyone, and I hope you can set aside some time to create :))   DawnSeeker

~~~

2601 — It Happened Through The Light

~~~

Brett, born on Claytona, moved here in the second settlement wave, while still in his late teens, seeking fortune as his father and grandfathers had done before him. Enos had more opportunity for the hungry, younger generation, Claytona fairly settled and fully tamed by now, depleted of most of her resources.

Fragile storybooks, prized family treasures, spoke of rabbits and squirrels and talking fairies on “Old Planet Earth”, now barren and burned, they say, after her sun erupted.

Brett had never seen anything on Claytona or Enos, like the lush gardens, forests, animal life, and sea shores from the ancient Earthen lore.

Work. Nowadays, that’s all Brett knew — work and toil and cold. But he wouldn’t return before his contract ran out — that he’d already determined. Disgrace his family, not he! Proud. Stoic. Strong.

~~~

Brett reached for It, instinctively, as he had countless times before.

It’s smooth surface reassuring him, even warming him, reminding him of his mother’s love. Not just that, but her faith in him, to keep It safe. Close. This treasured memento of his mother, who died when he was just a boy.

Would things have all gone differently, Brett wondered again, had she not taken ill? So many did — he was lucky to still have his father, uncle, sister.

Before the Viritoid Pandemic broke out, “A cruel act of war,” some speculated; “It was just a matter of time,” others surmised; families and friends were close. Social. Yet once so many started to succumb, the horrible Restrictions began. Schools shut, Laski games, Frenball, even the Baskenwer Tournaments closed — never to open again.

Brett’s Mum had placed It in his hand, before they sent her off to the “Clean House”. Given to her by Grandma Dee, given to her by old Papa Ben, who carried the talisman safe in his pocket during the Great Emigration from Earth.

Earth! Blessed Earth. Brett held tight his treasure, drifting to sleep, dreaming of forests, rivers and creatures from a world he’d never see. A world, sadly, long gone.

~~~

Dreams are funny things. Snippets evoke images, emotions, storyline — yet seldom remain intact when the slumbering mind awakes.

Brett’s repeated theme: yearning, always yearning to fill that hidden chasm . . . fleeting hopes . . . dashed delusions of something warm, enduring . . . just out of reach, to shore up the empty void.

Her face. Always her deep, assuring face. Open arms, wide embrace. His head, tears flowing, buried in her wisdom. Her strength. Sweet, calm, soothing.

Somehow, It always contains her, calls her, brings her mystical visitations, as though Brett’s night dreams of her are reality, and his cold hard work in the mines, are the illusion.

Isolated, alone (for the paranoid, Post-Viritoid Restrictions, drone on — interrupting customs and interactions practiced by humans for millennia).

Brett snuggles into his cocoon again . . . again . . . night after night . . . month after month, between grueling shifts of barren toil.

Sleep, his one solace. His one escape.

~~~

This night, holding It and drifting off, She came again. But this night, She ushered a warning.

“Sacara! Sacara!” Through tears and grief, She cried, “Sacara! In danger. You must go!”

Memories of Brett’s childhood flooded in — he and Sacara laughing, outside Grandma Dee’s hut, playing in the barren pile of rocks, sand.

Mud pies, tasty desserts. Hide-and-seek among the rock boulders that dotted the landscape there.

Sacara, in danger? Yes, yes! He must help her.

Yes! He must go!

~~~

In that instant, Brett felt his spirit separate, soar from his sleeping bodily form. Now he felt himself falling . . .

Falling . . .

Through a tunnel — long, dark, tube-like.

Bells, like the kind that rang outside Grandma Dee’s hut, the Sacred Bells, fashioned after the one’s spoken of from The Old Earth, started peeling, softly at first, growing louder now.

“Sacara!” Fearful. Distraught. Brett’s very soul wept. “I must get to Sacara!”

Right then, he saw The Light. Faint at first. Almost like a mist. But The Light rose, moved closer, and even spoke, transcending time, space.

“My son,” The Light commanded. “Come and see.”

Brett followed The Light, yet he no longer seemed afraid. Instead, he felt overwhelming calm. Peace. Brett’s light just behind, almost touching The Light Guide, soaring together.

~~~

Suddenly, Brett found himself back on Claytona, just outside his father’s hut, and followed The Light right through the wall, down the quiet hallway, and through the wall of his sister, Sacara’s, room.

There she lay, white. Stricken.

Off to her right, and a little ways up, another, smaller mist-like light shimmered faintly.

“Give It to her,” The Light Guide said. “Put It in her hand.”

What? Did he still have It, Brett wondered. Or was It left, along with his physical body, back on Enos, in his cocoon?

Hark — to Brett’s surprise, It, too, had turned into Light — brightly shining, in the midst of Brett’s dimly-lit-palm. She had sent It — Sacara needed It, and Brett knew what he must do.

Every hero knows his duty. Every sage knows his path.

His mother had passed It on to him, as She knew her son had needed It. And Brett knew, he must pass It on to Sacara now!

Slowly, glowing, Brett moved to the bedside, and put It — warm as his mother’s embrace, light as a feather — into Sacara’s left hand.

Pulsing brighter now, the faint light above Sacara began to illuminate and grow. Like a comet. Like a nebula.

Then, The Miracle happened!

It, the Light of The Guide, the light of Brett, the light above Sacara, now, all seemed to pulse in unison — a strong, centered, purposeful pulse.

Brett was stunned. He felt the same emotions She evoked in him, when She visited, in his dreams, filling the chasm, the void. The only way to describe the experience: Absolute Love.

Now, the three lights, Brett, Sacara, The Guide, joined by It — the FOUR — seemed to intertwine. Bursting. Glowing. Ringing. Ecstasy. Harmony. Elation! Melding into cosmic conversion capable, Brett thought as he later reminisced, of creating the entire Universe.

“Sacara!” Brett cried.

Her body regaining color, the smaller light no longer above, but IN her now — tears of joy! Sacara quietly wept, It glowing in her hand.

~~~

Again, Brett flashed back to his childhood. He and Sacara, Mum and Pop, in the hut, happy. Fed. Warm. The music of the bells, Mum’s lilting voice, a fire crackling in the hearth. Safe. Overjoyed. Home . . .

~~~

Next instant, Brett felt himself zipping through the wall, outside the hut, catapulted now, up through the tunnel, into the dark — bells heralding the way, like the old days, at the Laski games. Like cheering crowds, saluting their heroes’ victory.

Up, up, then suddenly, in a shock, back into his sleeping body, Brett awakened — tears of awe in his eyes.

~~~

At that very time, Planet Enos felt a stir. What? Sensing something beautiful had happened, a glimmer of hope caused her to momentarily shake off her foggy cold, and allow rays of light to penetrate her surface from her far-off, dim galactic star.

Enos wondered . . . perhaps the trespassers could find redemption? Perhaps they would evolve? Perhaps they could rise in concert with her consciousness, and live in harmony with her cycles . . .

~~~

Looking out from his cocoon, Brett felt a strange warmth. A soft light — fog, lifted? Hope restored! But what about his strange, vivid dream?

Brett reached for It, instinctively . . . but It was no longer there.

Relieved. Euphoric. Then It really did happen!, Brett marveled, The visitation, The Light Guide, Sacara. It all happened through The Light!

But who would believe him? Sacara!

source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light

~~~

Brett reached for his journal, and noted the date: Avril 18, 2601. He would share his dream, his miracle, with Sacara when his work here on Enos, was done.

Yes, Brett determined, even stronger now. He would fulfill his contract. Proud. Stoic. Strong. Yes! He would honor his family’s line.

And Brett knew. And he had faith. Sacara would keep It safe.

Mask and Chainmaille such as mined on Planet Enos

~~~

Questions:

• What do you think It was?*
• Why was It important to Brett and his family?
• Who was She (in Brett’s dream)?
• What do you think about The Light Guide?
• What do you think happened in this story?

* Fascinating reading, Talisman, from Wikipedia

~~~

Copyright  2020

Photos: Dawn Jenkins; Light graphic: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light

~~~

Want to open a Gateway to a new chapter?

Ride along with Dawn and her homegrown horse herd–

Take a Virtual Ride!  

Please visit Dawn’s Horse Blog:  Soul Horse Ride :))

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The “Last” Magic Dragon

“We live in an ephemeral world . . . Seasons come, seasons go . . .

Have you ever wondered: What happens to change something near and dear to us, and cause that chapter in our Lives to end?

Is it Destiny, Fate, or simply the way Life unfolds for us humans here on Planet Earth?”

DawnSeeker

~~~~

Remember the song, Puff the Magic Dragon, by Peter, Paul and Mary?

I remember crying as a young girl over those lyrics, so sad that little Jackie Paper would leave his friend Puff all alone . . . and move on to other interests.

Yet as I live on, I realize, we don’t always know in advance, when a particular time, a certain adventure, will be our Last . . .

It might be something we’ve always done. Always loved. Always adored! Yet at some point — one experience, one trip — will turn out to be: The Last.

Puff, The Magic Dragon

“Puff, the Magic Dragon
Lived by the sea
And frolicked in the Autumn mist
In a land called Honalee

Little Jackie Paper
Loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax
And other fancy stuff” *

* “Puff the Magic Dragon” by Leonard Lipton (lyrics) and Peter Yarrow (music) — Peter, Paul and Mary, first recorded, 1963  (Youtube link at end of this post -DawnSeeker)

Like the story of Puff and his friend, when it comes to humans — things, phases, and passions — just don’t go on forever.

They can’t. Rather they change, alter, and morph. Sometimes abruptly, sometimes subtly, as we continue to Live. Learn. Age.

“A dragon lives forever
But not so, little boys
Painted wings and giants’ rings
Make way for other toys

One grey night it happened
Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff, that Mighty Dragon
He ceased his fearless roar”

I’ve been reflecting lately on “Lasts” — how we don’t always see them coming.

Sometimes we may feel them, have a hint or a clue . . . but there is a time when we seem to outgrow even our most beloved passions.

We might let go, kicking and screaming. We might let go with a great sense of relief. We might find ourselves in shock at the notion of being “over it“.

But I’ve learned to make friends with that notion . . . at Last.

~~~~

My Last Aloha :))

For fourteen years, I worked in Hawaii — flying back and forth between California and Oahu/Molokai. (Every six weeks as a Farrier, shoeing and trimming horse’s hooves.)

Making over 120, ten-hour round-trip jet flights!

Creating a business. Creating friendships. Sweating. Working. Laughing. Enduring . . .

I had lived in Hawaii in years past, and for many years, I longed to return.

To the tropics. The trade winds. The Aloha. The people.

The camaraderie. The ocean. The food :))

So I flew. And I worked. And I trotted the beach. And I swam. (And I worked!) And I got rained on . . . Over. And over. And over. Again . . .

And yet, one trip, one Day — eventually, became my Last.

And I flew home with my anvil and my horseshoes, my hammers and my nails. Complete. Now, here in my California Mountain Forest.

Satisfied. My mission there, fulfilled. Working locally now — jet-lag free :))

Home. Content with my horses and my husband, our books, and our cat . . .

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My Last Ocean Swim

Then, having grown up on Trancas Beach, Malibu, being an avid Ocean Swimmer and Bodysurfer, lover of surf and sea . . .

Not a fair-weather type — COLD water, no problem — forcing myself to go in! Numb hands, numb feet, happy Soul :)) Heading out to the breakers when the faint-at-heart were content to stay home.

Santa Barbara. San Diego. Encinitas. Leucadia.

All the beachy places I’ve lived, chasing the water, the waves . . .

Sorrento. Devereux. Swami’s. Avila.

Diving under massive swells. Shooting the lip.

Trancas. Zuma. County Line. Point Zero.

Raising my kids in the water, at the beach. Splashing in the shallows.

Malibu. Lani Kai. Waimea. Molokai.

Yet a couple of years ago, in the waters at Zuma, I realized that my Ocean Days were Complete. Finished. Done.

The Calling-to-my-Soul was simply no longer there . . .

I got out of the water that Day: Satisfied. Happy. Fulfilled.

Now, Puff the Magic Ocean-Dragon, waves to me in the surf line, and I wave, coyly, back. Happy with our “new” arrangement.

Happy to watch the surf safely, warmly, from shore . . .

What’s Up ???

Is it that I’m growing up? Leaving behind the beloved “toys” of my youth?

Fulfilled my Soul Assignment? Satisfied my curiosity?

Graduated from that Life University Course? Gotten all I came to get from it?

Yes! I believe so.

Nowadays, I walk on into my current version of Life, in Jubilee :)) Content with My Life the way it is. Not wanting. Not aching for more.

Celebrating the Now — and still appreciating all that’s gone before — all that I’ve done that brings me, Here, to this Awesome place . . .

For what is Time, after all?

Surely, part of me still works there in Hawaii . . . Still swims in the Ocean. Surfs the waves. Walks the beach.

Still: Hikes. Skis. Roller skates. Rides bikes. Flies airplanes. (Yes, I’m also a pilot.)

Still does all the things I’ve always loved to do — along with Jackie Paper and Puff —

“Together they would travel
On a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a look-out
Perched on Puff’s gigantic tail

Noble kings and princes
Would bow whene’er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags
When Puff roared out his name”

Time Travel

Together, I still Time-Travel — with Mom, Dad, Grandmother, Grandfather — onto a (Malibu) Beach with billowed sail. I still keep a lookout perched on Life’s gigantic tail . . .

Dad — construction site of our Trancas Beach house, Malibu 1950s

The New. The Old. The Future. The Past.

Content. Satisfied. Fulfilled :)) Ready to face my Destiny.

“Oh, Puff, the magic dragon
Lived by the sea
And frolicked in the Autumn mist
In a land called Honalee”

I’ve Lived it. Loved it. Logged it.

Horses. Airplanes. Beaches. Mountains.

Happy. Now. At home. Happy. Now. At peace.

Ready for my next Chapters in Life’s Great Adventure :))

DawnSeeker

Further Reflection: Hoof Work, Hawaii, four years later . . .

I find myself reflective, now, since I wrapped up 14 years of travel to and from Hawaii every six weeks, working, sweating, trimming, and shoeing horse’s hooves.

Since 2002, I traveled between Hawaii (the islands of Oahu, and Molokai) and  Southern California — working with horses! I would be two weeks over there; then four weeks to live my life here at home. Then back to my Life in the tropics. Over. And over. (And under horses, and hooves.) Again . . .

At first it was so wonderful, exotic, returning to my beloved previous home of Hawaii and back to my native California — the very best of both worlds! But over time, I made my choice. In March of 2016, I flew seven boxes of hammers, shoeing tools, horseshoes, nails — and my anvil . . . home.

And I am very happy living here in the mountains of Southern California :)) Most of my friends are in Hawaii, still. But I call them on the phone, and save the exhaustion of driving to the airport, and all that is involved with that kind of long-distance work and travel!

I remember the fear that set in when I realized that the travel was starting to lose its luster. I knew how much I had wanted it; how hard I had worked for it; the sacrifices I had made . . . I took an extra two years, really, to finally call it quits (and I’m very glad I didn’t rush it — everything just organically finished up).

Now that I’m home, and I’ve had some time to reflect on it all, I think we are not supposed to stay the same our entire lives, but rather there really is a time, a season, for certain adventures.

The great news: It’s all mine! I did it! I made 120 round-trips; swam in the aqua ocean hundreds of times; helped countless horses; made friends/acquaintances/connections that uplifted my soul and filled my heart, even now.

I know the smells and the flavors, the flowers and the textures, the sand and the water and the wind . . . I know it so well, I can return there with just a thought! :))

Life is a humbling experience. All our accomplishments are precious beyond measure. No one can ever take them from us. But like graduation from high school, college, they too, have a limit (that we often find ourselves unaware of, until they’re gone!).

The good news: Wherever we are — at travel, or humbly at “home” in the town of our choosing — our rich experiences are all still present, active, and alive. Within us. Living, shining, on! :))

DawnSeeker 2020

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             Dawn’s a Life-long Horse Girl —

Please visit Dawn’s Horse Blog:  Soul Horse Ride :))

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Copyright 2020

Photos: by DawnSeeker (Dawn Jenkins); Dawn working shots, S. Curry

 

. . . I am Hawaii

We all love Hawaii. The imagery of ocean coves and tropical breezes. Sipping Piña Coladas on an outdoor lanai . . .

Some of us are fortunate to live, have lived, or have visited there. Others, can only dream.

People ask me, when they learn I’ve lived there, birthed my baby there, regularly flown back and forth from California, working with horses there:  “Do you miss Hawaii?”

“Do I miss Hawaii? No, I don’t miss Hawaii. I am Hawaii.”    DawnSeeker

all photos Copyright 2019 DawnSeeker

You see, Hawaii isn’t just a place.

Hawaii is a lifestyle. A way of living and interacting. With your surroundings — with the people, the Nature, the land.

We all associate the word “Aloha” with Hawaii. Let’s look further into that word.

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Aloha:

The literal meaning of aloha is “the presence of breath” or “the breath of life.” It comes from “Alo,” meaning presence, front and face, and “ha,” meaning breath. Aloha is a way of living and treating each other with love and respect. Its deep meaning starts by teaching ourselves to love our own beings first and afterwards to spread the love to others.

According to the old kahunas (priests), being able to live the Spirit of Aloha was a way of reaching self-perfection and realization for our own body and soul. Aloha is sending and receiving a positive energy. Aloha is living in harmony. When you live the Spirit of Aloha, you create positive feelings and thoughts, which are never gone. They exist in space, multiply and spread over to others. (source)

Aloha is being a part of all, and all being a part of me. When there is pain — it is my pain. When there is joy — it is also mine. I respect all that is as part of the Creator and part of me. I will not willfully harm anyone or anything. When food is needed I will take only my need and explain why it is being taken. The earth, the sky, the sea are mine to care for, to cherish and to protect. This is Hawaiian — this is Aloha! (source)

Mother and child — Halawa Valley, Molokai

Aloha is the Hawaiian word for love, affection, peace, compassion and mercy, that is commonly used as a simple greeting^[1][2] but has a deeper cultural and spiritual significance to native Hawaiians . . .

Mary Kawena Pukui wrote that the “first expression” of aloha was between a parent and child.^[3] (source: Wikipedia)

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Recently I got uptight about something. A bit anxious. And I decided that I didn’t like where my mind took me.

So I decided to shift my thinking from the thing that was upsetting me, to somewhere peaceful and calm.

I decided to send my consciousness back to Hawaii. To Molokai. To Oahu. My previous home.

I teleport seaward . . .

I feel trade winds. Sunshine. I hear palm fronds clapping.

I wade into my favorite cove. Slide into the water — warm on top, cool beneath. Listen to the sounds of mollusks bubbling under the sea. Fluttering sunlight dances on the lids of my closed eyes.

Time stops. And I float . . .

Emotionally, I’m there :)) There again, on my peaceful island.

All the sights and sounds of Aloha — the breath of Life.

Feeling the slick Hawaiian sand — the type made from countless sea shells, broken into smooth bits by the ocean’s waves. My skin absorbing the penetrating heat of tropical sun.

Waving to rusted-out cars carrying local fisherman, surfers, neighbors — meandering along the one-lane “highway”.

And when sun sets, onlookers gather to view the grand display, pink or gold, hovering over the horizon. Then comes the food — and the laughter of good friends around a table.

A beach walk reveals stars at night GLISTENING SO BRIGHT!  Magnified by the salt-rich atmosphere. And, if lucky, a faint, but real, night moon rainbow.

Aloha. For real.

And I stayed there, in my magical island mode, all day . . . and the next.

And I think I’ll choose to stay there, in Hawaii. To LIVE ALOHA, as the locals say.

To feel the Spirit and the peace of the place, no matter that I now reside here in California.

And I’ll choose to live Hawaii, live the Spirit of Aloha here, and feed the hungry souls here on the Mainland. (So many seem SO EMPTY!)

And I’ll take my spiritual shoes off and display my emotional bare feet . . .

After all, where can you go to a family gathering, a church service, a business meeting — and see everyone’s gnarly unshod feet, and have that be considered completely normal?

Hawaii, of course. Hallelujah!

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So where do you go, when you find yourself getting uptight? Where is your place of peace and calm?

May your spirit swiftly soar to that place, and bring its Spirit back to where you live, to nourish those hungry souls around you :))

May your emotional feet stay bare and exposed.

May you live your life with much Aloha!

And, as we say on Molokai, A hui ho — until we meet again :))

DawnSeeker

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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Soul Horse Ride

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Local Molokai horse, living tied out by the side of the road

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Copyright 2019 Dawn Jenkins All Rights Reserved

Photos: Dawn Jenkins/DawnSeeker; Mother and child photo: DawnSeeker family archive

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— Double Image — Double Vision —

“Sometimes — You’ll Surprise Yourself”

My Mom had a wonderful insight. She shared it with me once, and it’s come back to me many times in the twenty years since she’s passed from this physical realm.

“Honey, you think you know yourself. You think you know how you’ll react in a certain situation.”

“But sometimes — you’ll surprise yourself!” (with how you react)

I thought of Mom recently, when, again, I found my reaction to a certain situation unsettling!

“I’m losing it right now!!! What’s wrong with me?????”

Yet when I find myself “surprising myself”, miffed at my own reactions — I think of Mom, and marvel at her wisdom.

I look up, and say, “Well Mom, you’re right. I certainly am surprising myself right now!”

And somehow, just the act of making that statement, taking that pause, that self-reflection — helps!

Just knowing that she warned me. That she left me with her sage reflections.

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Steps to Stop the Downfall . . .

So here are my Strategies that seem to help curtail the downfall of my emotions:

1.) Rather than judge and self-condemn — adding to my anxiety or fear . . .

2.) Stop! Step outside of my emotional response, and (again) recognize my human foibles. (See my Runaway (Emotional) Emergency Escape Ramp.)

3.) Accept my human faults and frailties — even laugh!!! :)) Crazy-drama me :)) (See my previous post, Crazy-Drama Syndrome.)

4.) Do my best to re-focus, and move on.

5.) Take a deep breath, and let it all go . . .

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Thank you, Mom, for leaving me with your words of wisdom.

Thank you for preparing me for the moments I feel out of control.

May I look to what I’ve learned in dealing with my foibles — lessons honed from a Life filled with HORSES! (See my post, Ride Life! The Reins . . . )

May I strive to be the best version of Dawn I can possibly be.

And, hopefully, Mom, you’ll look out from where you are now — and see me — and smile :))

DawnSeeker

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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Soul Horse Ride

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Copyright 2019

Photos: by DawnSeeker

Vintage Photo: Grandfather’s archive (courtesy of Cousin Andy :))

 

 

On California Condors

Condors Soaring & Prophetic Dreams

Oftentimes things in our Lives stress us, and make us feel out of control.

Big things — or small — they can throw us for an emotional loop.

I was experiencing one of these stressed-out pockets, several years back, when I received my clear, peaceful, answer in the form of two dreams.

As I recall them now, they still ring true.

And they still help me overcome the temptation to live my life in anger or fear, which ruins so many aspects of my much preferred, much appreciated, Peaceful Life.

But what does this have to do with Condors?

I’m pairing this Post with photos I shot of soaring Juvenile California Condors. (Info about Condors at bottom of Post.) 

I know you’ll enjoy :)) :))  DawnSeeker

The Easy Solution and the Pilot Dream

The following two dreams arrived together, side by side, one night.

At the time I was struggling with some pressing issues. I went to bed, asking the Divine for an answer to come in my dreams.

After awaking in the wee hours, I prayed again, and fell back asleep.

Here is what I recall —

From my Journal:

I asked for dreams, and I got them.

These were very vivid, lucid dreams, the prophetic types, not the every-night ordinary.

In recent days I had been praying to be shown God’s EASY SOLUTION to my troubles, rather than struggle on in difficulty, like I had been.

The Easy Solution Dream

There was a waterway channel. I was walking in the water. It lead me inside a large industrial-type multi-level room, also filled with water. I knew I had to get out.

I saw a window and struggled to open it — impossible. A lady tried to help. But no matter what I did, it appeared I was stuck there in the building.

Looking around, I figured I could trudge down and across another deep, watery area, but I knew it would be very difficult. And it probably wouldn’t work.

Then, I saw a little button, off to the side. It contained the answer!

It turned out to be easily pushed. I did, and a door opened to a girl in a room (like an elevator operator) — and somehow, from there, I was able to just walk out.

My Interpretation

God ALWAYS has an Easy Solution to our problems. (A type of button, nearby, that we can push — rather than continue fretting and struggling on our own).

He is a very present help in our times of need.

Rest in Him. Don’t wear myself out trying to solve everything by my own energies.

Look to the Easy Solution God provides.

Putting the Easy Solution to work

And I was able to put this to work, again, just the other day.

On my precious weekend-day-off, I had offered a favor to a family, with a visit to my horses. It meant days of planning and prep work, which I did. Getting horses out and ready. Nailing on shoes. Driving my horse in his cart . . .

All was set and confirmed. At the appointed time, I was booted up and ready to go.

Yet, right then, I found out — they were running late. Our time would be delayed by two hours. Maybe more.

I was upset. It threw off all my plans for the day.

But, I couldn’t change it.

So I decided to look for the Easy Solution :))

The Easy Solution

First, I got out my handwritten journal and wrote a good rant. All about flakes (it seemed to be the theme of the week — people who made appointments with me and just disappeared, with no further mention!)

Then, I laid down on the couch with some uplifting reading material — and drifted off into a beautiful, out-of-this-world, time-traveling, supernatural nap.

It worked!

• It stopped the anger cycle
• I woke up calm, refreshed
• The later time frame actually worked out really well — probably better than earlier would have
• We created a special day with meaningful memories and insights
• And Magic occurred between horses, humans :))

Pretty cool results, really. Pretty easy button to push.

Rather than get mad. Chill out — take a nap!

And enjoy :))

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The Pilot Dream

Then came the airplane. We were on a boardwalk. Lots of people were there. I had joined up with some people I didn’t really know. There were people giving out cups of juice because something that was scheduled didn’t happen.

I walked up and asked them what was going on. There were a couple of military guys, one in pilot headgear. He was in a small booth, like a ticket booth, with his flight helmet on.

I asked if he was a pilot. He said, “Yes.”

Grandfather Conway Ulyate, U.S. Army Air Service, Fort Sill, Oklahoma (@1918) — wearing  similar leather flight helmet to the one in my dream.

Then I asked him if he prayed?

Suddenly, as if in response to my question, I was up on his plane with him. It was like the dragon in the movie, Eregon — a blow-up type vinyl airplane. And we rode astride, on its back, he in front, me behind — like you would on a horse or a motorcycle.

He directed the craft into all kinds of high-tech flying maneuvers. Loop-the-loops. Stalls. Showing off for me. For the crowd. I wondered how it was possible that we even stayed on?

Then, in response to my question of whether he prayed, he put the thing into a DIRECT NOSEDIVE.

I was terrified.

It became apparent that he wasn’t pulling out. We were headed straight down.

I literally clung to the flapping tail, hanging on for dear life. I wondered what the people on the ground would think – we were going to crash and die, right in front of them.

Then I heard a voice inside my head say: “Look what God can do!”

Suddenly I became absolutely calm. Crashing, dying, didn’t matter.

And right when we should have hit, right when we would have perished — in the gentlest of manners, he landed his plane PERFECTLY, flaring at the very last moment, touching down softly on the grassy ground!

We were not hurt!

I was so grateful, and praised and thanked God, repeatedly, for saving us!

My Interpretation

No matter how bad it looks, The Divine is in control — and there are NO WORRIES. (Even though I must constantly remind myself of this!)

For, even in the nosedive, God sorted it — gentled it, and saved it.

With this dream, He lead me to a higher level of understanding. A deep inner knowing. “With God, ALL things do work together for good.”

Prayer is the key. And calm trust.

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How these dreams have helped me

Over the years, these two dreams have profoundly influenced my day-to-day Life.

When frightening things happen, when it seems all chaos is breaking out — I look for the Easy Solution God has for me. And no matter how bad it appears, I know that He is in control.

Calm down. Chill out. Rather than fight and fume — Enjoy the Ride of Life.

Ride the airplane. Ride the dragon.

Trust. Breathe.

And be Grateful :))

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Copyright 2019

Photos:  Dawn Jenkins — Juvenile Condors flying near Bitter Sweet National Wildlife Refuge Hudson Ranch Road, west of Bakersfield, California, Spring 2019

Condors are so rare, I’ve seen them only once before, about fifteen years ago, soaring high overhead — and I’ve lived here in Condor territory for 25 years, and spent countless  hours, out and about, on foot and on horse. I photographed these on 4/22/19, Earth Day, on my way driving home from horse hoof work :))

Condor Habitat — near Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge, and Pine Mountain Club

They were young, happy, on the wing — soaring as if just for fun, in the end of day light, over a great expanse. An amazing bird sighting — especially since fewer than 500 birds exist in the world. What a day!!!

I was most amazed by the long, dangling feet. Maybe the young ones just don’t know how to retract their landing gear yet :))

Juvenile Condor in flight, feet down :))

I watched four birds, soaring over an area of about a quarter mile. Some going up, others dipping down. Very difficult to focus my camera. Stunning. Breath-taking. Inspiring!

One flew right overhead to check me out — making me think that they must have had some positive interaction with humans from the release program at Bitter Creek.

Note dark head, indicating Juvenile Condor, and red marker tag on wing

Enjoy this Traditional folk music from Peru — El Condor Pasa

 

 

Interesting California Condor Facts

Cornell Lab of Ornithology — Condor Life History:

• Condors glide and soar when foraging, so they depend on reliable air movements and terrain that enables extended soaring flight. They are so heavy that they can have trouble taking off, so they often use open, windy areas where they can run downhill or launch themselves from a cliff edge or exposed branch to get airborne.
• California Condors can cover hundreds of miles in one flight as they soar for hours at a time, looking for carrion. Pairs are monogamous. Because their crop (an enlarged part of the esophagus) can hold 3 pounds of food, they may only have to eat every 2–3 days.
• California Condors have been reintroduced to mountains of southern and central California, Arizona, Utah, and Baja California. Nesting habitats range from scrubby chaparral to forested mountain regions up to about 6,000 feet elevation. Foraging areas are in open grasslands and can be far from primary nesting sites, requiring substantial daily commutes.

• All of the more than 400 condors now alive are descended from 27 birds that were brought into captivity in 1987, in a controversial but successful captive breeding program. As of 2013, there were more than 230 individuals in the wild in California, Arizona, and Baja California. According to Partners in Flight, about 95% live in the U.S., and 5% in Mexico. The number has been rising steadily each year, as captive-bred birds are released and wild pairs fledge young from their own nests.
• Condor recovery has been slow because of their slow reproductive rate: they produce only 1 egg every 1–2 years and do not achieve sexual maturity until age 6-8 years.

California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife:

• Condors can soar and glide for hours without beating their wings.
• After rising thousands of feet overhead on air currents, California condors will glide long distances, sometimes at more than 55 miles per hour.

Looks like an airplane with gear down, and winglets (also known as a wingtip device)

Wikipedia:

• California condors have the largest wingspan of any North American bird — from 2.49 to 3 m (8.2 to 9.8 ft). Their weight can range from 7 to 14.1 kg (15 to 31 lbs) [Weight of a toddler]
• Condors are so large that they can be mistaken for a small, distant airplane, which possibly occurs more often than they are mistaken for other species of bird.
• It is one of the world’s longest-living birds, with a lifespan of up to 60 years.
• Individual birds have a huge range and have been known to travel up to 250 km (160 mi) in search of carrion.
• The middle toe of the California condor’s foot is greatly elongated, and the hind one is only slightly developed. The talons of all the toes are straight and blunt, and are thus more adapted to walking than gripping.

Cornell Lab of Ornithology:

• Immatures (juveniles) have dark heads, grayer necks, and mottled grayish instead of clear white patches under the wings.
• Adults are black with striking white patches under the wings. The naked head and neck are yellowish orange.
• Adult coloration is reached at 6-8 years of age.

More Condor

• More info on Condors from Bitter Creek here.
• For Condor population stats:  California Condor Recovery Program
• This post, The Sacred Condor, will give further food for thought about the vast, strange world we live in.
• This blog, by Andrew J. Parks, is from a California Condor field worker, and explains how the color-coded tagging system works, as well as inside the scene photos and cool observations :))

Please comment, and let me know about your Condor or wildlife encounters :))

 ~~ Leaving Condor Habitat now. Thanks for visiting ~~

DawnSeeker

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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog:  Soul Horse Ride

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Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride! Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse. Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

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Will it All Work Out???

One of the BIG questions we have in our journey in Life:  “Will it ALL work out???”

Will I be able to:

• Pay the rent?
• Buy gas?
• EAT?
• Engage in a meaningful career?
• Find a mate?
• Raise the kids?
• _____________________ ?
• (and so on . . . )

The questions change as Life goes on. But the questions still persist.

And it’s up to each one of us to find the answers.

Not so much from the outside, as we are tempted. But rather from the inside — from deep inside our souls.

Symptoms vs. Cause

It’s easy to think, “If only I had more money . . . If only I had a mate . . . If only I could loose weight . . . ”

But these are merely symptoms, not the cause.

These are modern-day Sirens luring us out to sea, beguiling us off our steady course. Making us think that if we just had this one extra element, Life would be Bliss.

Yet, the Purpose of Life seems to be found in learning how to take control of our thoughts — our fears, our needs — and turning those very obstacles into the generators of solutions.

Flipping them into opportunity:  For growth. Wisdom. Depth of character.

Rather than excuses for anxiety, worry, depression, doubt.

Test Run . . .

I remember, years ago, sitting with my brother and his wife. I was losing my rental; they were losing theirs. Neither of us knew where we would move, or what would happen next.

I had two small girls, four horses and a milk goat. They had a household of belongings, as well as a recording studio full of specialized sound equipment. Not easy rentals to find.

As much as I was tempted to freak out, I knew from previous demonstrations, that fear and panic wouldn’t work. Not only wouldn’t it help me find my next rental, it would likely assure my homelessness.

So in that moment, twentysomething years ago, I remember receiving a fresh inspiration. With the three of us, sitting on the floor — I spoke these words:

“Looking back on our Lives, everything has worked out perfectly, bringing us right here, to where we’re at right now. (We’ve made it though other times of uncertainty!)

And right now, we’re fine.

“So, I’m going to trust that the same energy that has brought us this far will continue. I’m going to throw that energy that’s carried me here, out in front of me.

“I’m going to say ‘Thank you!’, rather than worry.

“And I’m going to know that ALL things will work out, just as they have, up until now.

“Let’s each of us make this an experiment, and see how that works!”

Results:

All three of us put that philosophy to the test that day, and beyond. And I’m happy to report:  It’s worked — and still working :))

As I look back on my Life from my current vantage point, things have worked out. For all of us.

Why? Because there’s always a solution :))

Always a way to bring us through Life’s challenges.

It seems to come when:

• I take control of my thoughts.
• Shift from fear to gratitude.
• And listen to, and follow, my intuition.

From when I look up, and align with the Divine.

Crossroads

So if you’re at a crossroads, if you’re struggling — know that your solutions are at hand. (May I remind myself, as well.)

Know that you have the ability shift your attention from worry and doubt — into calm and peace.

Like an athlete, controlling the temptation to fumble.

Like a pilot, knowing her ability to land that plane!

Like a surfer, melding with the ocean, and riding that swift, tumbling wave.

Throwing that same energy out in front of you that’s carried you here, today.

On-Going

And the demonstrations don’t stop.

As long as we’re here on this Earthly plane, we battle the tug-a-war:  Our inner demons vs. our outer needs.

So take your deep breath.

Shine bright in living your skills.

Trust in that energy that guides you.

And know — It really will ALL work out :))

For more evidence of this philosophy see:  My Yoda Story.

Other Related Posts:

Action ~ Inaction

Intuition . . . Speaks

Self-Talk

Gratitude Is . . .

My Miracle Book :))

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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog:  Soul Horse Ride

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Copyright 2019

Photos:  Dawn Jenkins (Malibu, Point Dume — Whale migration and Superbloom)

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Splinter — A Stitch in Time . . . Travel

Lessons in Life abound.

The smallest experiences stitch us back in Time.

I found myself recently returning — from the tiniest splinter, stuck in my finger — back to my Malibu beachfront childhood. Gone, but not lost.

To Mom, Dad, Grandparents, Uncles and Aunties — so many years ago. Preserved in my memories. Preserved in my Soul . . .  DawnSeeker

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The Splinter

I somehow got a slender splinter embedded in the outside edge of my index finger. Right hand. Near the joint.

It must have come from feeding my horses’ their hay (sometimes prickly weeds find their way into the bales).

When it first happened, I  tried to remove it with tweezers, but it seemed to go straight in, and the tweezers just made it worse.

So just leave it alone. Surely it will work its way out.

Wrong.

Over a couple days, a knobby, hard, painful welt appeared. It hurt every time my hand touched anything. Which is, basically, all day long.

Hand in gloves to do my horseshoeing work. OUCH.

Hold the reins to drive my horse and carriage. YIKES!

Something has to be done!

So I put on some wet clay and a Bandaid, as a poultice to draw it out.

Nope.

Still hard. Still hurt.

Darn! I gotta dig it out. I gotta get out the sewing needle . . .

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I go to my sewing kit. Open the folded tan-colored linen needle holder my Aunt Dorothea, now in her 90’s, made for me, decades ago.

Painted on the outer fabric:  Small red hearts, seven in total, surrounded by the words, “A stitch in time saves nine . . .  Dorothea”.

And now the Time Travel begins . . .

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Malibu Childhood

I remember, growing up, it was Dad who had the hand with the needle for splinter removal.

(Perhaps Mom just didn’t have the stomach for it. “We’ll have Dad get it out. He has such a steady hand when it comes to these things . . . “ )

Yes. Dad had a steady hand and a sturdy stomach for whatever needed to get done.

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Disneyland Dad

His steady hands knit together the fabric of our family, until his heart attach one night, when I was 16, leaving us to proceed on in Life without him . . .

My Dad, Bill Ulyate (Disneyland show name: Bill Elliott), top studio musician. His steady hand fingered his saxophones, his clarinets — Fox Orchestra — on the leading Hollywood TV shows and movies of the day.

(Dad played on the original TV show, Batman! South Pacific, The King and I, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and countless more.)

But not only that. After he got done with his day job at Fox, he booked gigs with his own Big Band, The Elliott Brothers Orchestra, with his brother, my Uncle — famous life-long studio trombonist, Lloyd Ulyate.

After the Park opened, Walt Disney searched for a hometown band to play at end of Main Street, at the then Carnation Plaza Gardens, in sight of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle :)) Walt hired The Elliott Brothers Orchestra, also known as the Date Niters, as the signature band at Disneyland!

View from Dad’s Disneyland Bandstand

My Dad (foreground, Saxophone) and my Uncle Lloyd (Trombone ) on the Carnation Plaza Gardens Bandstand at Disneyland.

Dad’s Disneyland Date Niters Patch

So Dad’s steady hands entertained nightly, live at the Magic Kingdom, for more than a decade, until after Walt died.

Dad also fulfilled his love of flying and became a private pilot. His steady hands flew his own small airplane between those two jobs, escaping the torturous L.A. traffic below.

Dad lived at the top. Top of his field. Top of the world!

Dad’s famous line: “Just be the BEST at what you do and you can’t help but make good. There’s always room at the top.”

On one of those special days Dad was home — he worked constantly, and we rarely saw him — he’d pat me on the back and say:  “That a girl, honey, you can do anything!”

How great and wonderful is that!!!

Listen to Dad’ music here – Date Night At Disneyland, The Elliott Brothers Orchestra

(Read more about Dad, Disneyland in my following posts: You Can Do ANYTHING!, and It’s OK to Scream!. Read more about our family’s history of flying here: Family of Flying.)

Dad next to Walt Disney, and Uncle Lloyd, also in white coat.

Childhood Memories of my Bigger-than-Life Dad:

Mom, shushing:  “Dad’s sleeping. Quiet!”

Dad eating breakfast, always late, after sleeping in.

Dad’s awesome way of asking a favor: “Honey,” (Dad called everyone honey) “I sure would like something to eat. What have we got in there? Do you think you could make your old Dad a sandwich?”

(Which always involved mayonnaise. I hate it, to this day. Dad LOVED it!)

Dad with his boat. With his friends.

Laughing!!!

With Grandma and Grandfather and my Uncles, his brothers. All the Aunties and cousins. Big extended family gatherings . . . musical instruments and flashlights and parading down the street Christmas caroling at the holidays.

Dad’s make-believe “Frankenstein” with us kids in the Garden Room at the beach house, a coat hanger turned upside down, making his shoulders square . . . arms outstretched, moaning . . . big stiff footsteps . . . all us kids screeching and hiding and running — afraid of the “monster”, yet coming back into its range . . .

Dad taking me to the Bike shop in Malibu for my my new, shinny Schwinn Bicycle,  silver and white.

. . . the only time he ever spanked me when I “got lost” and wandered off. It hurt more to have let him down, than the actual spank . . . and I never did that again . . .

Dad’s music room, filled with saxophones of all sizes. Boxes of reeds. His banged up red bongo drum. The framed picture on the wall of Dad playing his Sax, with Elvis on drums, at a studio wrap party.

Dad on Sax, Elvis on Drums!!!

Dad taking me with him to pick up his Band coat at Disneyland’s Wardrobe . . . all the costumes, endless rows of Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and every kind of character heads.

The time he enthusiastically introduced me to the original Tinker Bell, Tiny Cline, a circus performer and the first one to “fly” from the Matterhorn during the firework event.

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Yet before Dad died, Disneyland was done. Studio work at Fox had shifted to more solo groups than big orchestras. And Dad, picking me up at Junior Achievement in Culver City one night, said these prophetic words:  “Honey, things are always changing. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.” (See my post: Ch-Ch-Changes!)

Waking to the sounds of Mom sobbing, 3 am, to the phone call from the hospital:  “We lost him.” And the shocking changes that event threw us all into . . .

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Splinter Removal Ritual

Now, back to the problem at hand — my little annoying painful splinter had to be removed!

And I flashed back to how it would go when Dad, and his steady hand, was called to remove my childhood splinters . . .

Location was always important:  We have to be somewhere in the light, where Dad could see:  Near a window. By a lamp.

Dad puts on his reading glasses, takes my hand, and inspects the job.

Mom goes off to find her sewing kit and brings a sharp needle.

For some reason, the needle always has a thread attached.

I remember wondering about this as a kid. We’re taking out a little splinter from a foot, from a finger. Why the thread? We’re not really sewing things, are we????

Then comes the match.

To sanitize the tip of the needle, Dad lights a match, holds the tip into the flame, turning  it a bit, tarnishing it from silver to black.

He then waits a few seconds for the needle to cool.

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I remember it all now as if watching a movie . . .

In the living room at the beach house. On the little table under the lamp.

My arm extended. My hand in Dad’s.

The warmth, the feel of his huge hands. Holding me gently, but firmly, with that calm “I’ve got a job to do” look.

Like a doctor. Like a pilot. Like a bandleader, setting the beat.

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My job:  Acceptance. No resistance.

This has to be done.

The anticipation of pain — This is going to hurt!

But I must not move. Must not squirm.

I can’t let Dad down.

After all, I am the one in trouble, and Dad is helping me out.

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Prick. Prick.

Ouch!!!!

The initial pokes, the needle going across the top to break the skin.

Slowly. Methodically. Skillfully.

Dad’s steady hand.

Mom’s confidence in him.

MY confidence in him.

I try not to watch the operation, turning my head. Closing my eyes.

Doing my best to not pull away.

Yelp!

Twitch!

Sharp twinges of pain now as Dad deftly digs under the offending matter, gently,  carefully coercing it up, out of my flesh.

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“Got it!”

“Got it?”

Phew!

It’s out!

Thank you, Dad!

A quick wash, a Bandaid, and I run back out to play . . .

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Today’s Splinter

So when I extracted my own splinter today, I got to re-live all this.

And since I was home alone, I got to play all the roles:  Mom. Dad. Little-kid-Dawn.

Location:  By the kitchen sink, lots of light, near the window.

Reading glasses, check.

(Times have changed since the 1950s and 60s . No thread on my needle. No match — just soap and water, then rubbing alcohol to sanitize my needle tip :))

Extend my arm.

My job:  Acceptance. No resistance.

This has to be done.

I watch the steady hand of Dad’s daughter, Dawn, with that calm pilot’s “I’ve got a job to do” look.

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Prick. Prick.

Take off the top skin. Not too bad. Doesn’t really hurt.

Dig. Gently. Under.

Not bad — no real stabs of pain . . .

Get it! Go under. Try again . . .

There it is! Tiny, reddish-brown.

Amazing something so small can cause so much trouble!

Yes!!! I got it!

It’s out!

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Dad, construction site of our Trancas Beach house, Malibu 1950s

Inheritance :))

And I realize, once again, my gratitude to Dad.

I may have only had 16 years with him, but Dad still flows through my blood. My being.

Thank you, Dad!

Thank you for the confidence you instilled in me.

Thank you for the example you lived.

Even though I lost you young, I HAVE you. In my attitude. In my thought process. In my very DNA.

You shine through me. Through my daughters — and now my grand-daughters.

You instilled confidence in all of us. The ability to pony up and get a tough job done.

You gave us a work ethic. A sense of humor. A love for Life!

Beyond just the ordinary. Beyond just getting by.

You found your Passion — for music, airplanes, entertainment, the family you loved . . .

You got me my first horse, and made sure I fulfilled mine.

You left us all with so much.

It’s like you’re patting me on the back again, laughing and saying:  “That a girl, honey, you can do anything!”

Yes!

Perhaps I truly can :))

And just think — all of this Life re-lived, on the count of a dumb little splinter!

~ Childhood Dreaming ~

EllaHarp

Here’s the next musical generation in Dad’s lineage — my daughter, EllaHarp, and one of her musical compositions.

Dad, you must be so proud!!!!

Yes — I hear your laughter now :))

“That a girl, honey!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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For insights into the lives of horses, please visit Dawn’s sister blog: Soul Horse Ride

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Copyright 2019