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Self-Talk

“Good girl, Dawn!”

“You’re a very good girl!”

I heard myself say it to — myself — again, today.

I heard myself say it to my horse, last night.

And I realize how far I’ve come . . .

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A few years back I caught myself, saying stuff in my mind, even out loud, to berate and belittle myself, that I would never say to someone else.

It was hurtful. Non-productive.

It was a habit, and it was bad . . .

And I had to stop.

And I had to have a little talk with myself.

And I made up my mind, that if I wouldn’t say it to someone else, it wasn’t exactly helpful to say to me!!!

And I did a little self-accounting. And I put a little Angel on my shoulder.

And I asked my Angel to please point out and make me aware whenever I would be mean to me. To remind me . . .

To STOP!!!

Self-Check

Yes, I can check myself and notice when I’m off track. I can listen to my self-criticism and add the needed correction to my course.

But I’m not allowed to berate myself. Nor anyone else . . . (Oops! Still working on this one, too!!!)

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Just Like Training a Horse :))

It’s like training one of my horses. If they go off behavior, off course, I can give them an immediate check to get their attention back. A pull of a rein, a shake of a rope, a tap or a smack.

But once I’ve got their attention, I have to re-direct them back to what I want.

“That’s a good girl! Come on now, let’s go . . . ”

Same thing with me.

If I go on a tirade, I can give myself a tap, a smack, to stop the tirade . . . and then I must re-direct myself back to the task at hand.

I must STOP. I must ask . . .

“What do I need to be doing right now???”

And I must — do that!!!

“Good girl!”

Just like with my horses, I work poorly with hounding and criticism.

I work best with encouraging words and vocal tones. Cookies and pats and praises. Giggles and sorbet and chocolate.

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WordPress Blogging Community :))

And the supportive WordPress blogging community greatly encourages with soothing, upbeat comments.

(So many of you took the time to reach out to me in my moment of funk last week, and that meant so much to me :)) :)) :)) To be heard. Understood.

. . . Still, many bloggers out there seem to be stuck. Depressed. Down. Struggling . . .

I’m hoping that by sharing my process, my Ups, my Downs, and how I work my Life Strategies — we can all band together, for Goodness sake.

Grow. Learn. Share inspirations.

Offer, and receive, support.

Be there for one another . . .

Find a way to climb up, out of the funk.

Into the fullness Life has to offer each one of us  :))

I’m wishing us all the best!!!

In Self-talk. Self-thoughts.

And in our thoughts and talk, to and about, those around us.

Let’s ride our Lives like we do (or would) our horses.

Put an Angel on our shoulders to remind us when we get off track.

Give ourselves a little smack — and then re-direct — up to what we really want our Lives to be about :))

As my Malibu friend, Pastor Scott O’Neal, always says: “Go give ’em Heaven!!!”

Encourage one another.

Connect. Listen.

Share those soothing comments.

Let our Light shine into the darkness that another might be having right now.

With all that’s been going on lately, we all can use a little Heaven!

(And listen to a little upbeat music:))

Dawn :))

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For more Life Strategies see: Depression Emergency Kit, and Runaway (Emotional) Emergency Escape Ramp

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

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…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

~~~~~

Copyright 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Fascinating!

I’m at a fascinating place to observe right now.

Have I ever experienced this before?

Is is an aberration? Is it normal? Will it shift?

It’s like all the “will” has left my Life.

I’ve done, literally, all I have wanted to do.

I have traveled, worked, ridden . . .

Flown, loved, slept . . .

The only thing that seems to interest me right now, is writing.

Some reading, but mostly writing.

~~~~

What about my horses?

Why not ride???

I just don’t have the urge.

Why not anything else???? Anything physical, like I used to do, my whole Life?

Maybe it’s normal to want a time to come down off of a physical Life like mine. Physical work and labor. Toil, travel and sweat.

(I’m still working, although less in the last two weeks — I blew out my wrist, and am on a forced hiatus.)

But that, alone, isn’t it.

Oh yes, the weather turned bad. Thunderstorms and hail and pounding rain. Washing out roads and such, thwarting our rides-to-be up Mt. Pinos for two consecutive late summer weekends.

But not even that, is really “it“.

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It’s like my “wind-up doll” unwound.

And it’s sitting on a heap on the floor.

But, I just don’t care.

Motivation: Zip. Nada. Nothing!

~~~~

So, can I make peace with this phase/stage of my Life?

Or do I ROAR like a lion, to (try and) shift it???

It’s like I’m sick, without the sickness.

Forced down time . . .

~~~~

So I might as well find a way to enjoy this new phase of mine.

Set my sights on shifting what I can. Accepting what I cannot shift . . .

(See my Yoda Story)

I must thank God for ALL things, the Good and the bad — for things just like this.

Force myself to do the little that I can, and appreciate that.

:)) Dawn-who-must-ever–keep-Seeking

(Strategies to use at times like this: my Depression Emergency Kit, and The Assignment, Guide to Greater Happiness.)

~~~~

Copyright 2017

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Life Lost — Written, and Found

How much of our Lives are lost — forgotten? Fallen through the fractures of our meager minds. Evaporated into the ever-ticking course of Time . . .

How many stories, chapters, do we see, experience — only to remain ghost memories?

Hollow.

Surreal.

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When I was younger, did I really fly airplanes — 300 hours!?!

Did I camp alone with my horse for ten days, when I was just 18? It’s so far away now, like some kind of Past Life.

Did I ride my horses, all by myself, under the stars, on the side of a mountain?

Fly to Hawaii every six weeks to work shoeing horses for the last 14 years???

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And if those memories seem so distant, what am I doing, now, that will seem like a dream to me later on . . .

And, what can I do to enhance that dream, to LIVE my Life, fully, today?

What do I need to change, tweak, alter?

What am I waiting for . . . to really be here . . .

Today, right now, and Live?

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I Write!

In writing, I set out to capture what Time, and Life — shall someday forget.

What shall certainly, one day, be gone.

Word pictures, I call them.

Snapshots. Some in prose. (I have journals full.)

Some in colorful Mind Maps . . .

Us writers — we Live. We write.

We Live some more. Write some more.

Doing our best to capture the never-ending Circle of Life.

Freeze it. Store it.

Love it :)) Learn from it.

And now we reach out, though blogging, in hopes of connecting, sharing with each other.

Like pointing out a shooting star . . .

“It was really bright! Fast! Lit up the whole sky!”

(I’m there, with my back to the quadrant you saw it streak past in, but I didn’t see. So you, on the spot, do your best to describe it to me.)

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Questioning Reality . . .

Yet, where is reality?

What makes something real?

Who is my witness?

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If a tree falls in the woods, and no one hears it, does it still make a sound?

If I experience Life, and I don’t write it, share it, preserve it, did it even happen???

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(I look at my computer, 11:44 right now — the alignment of symmetrical patterns and multiple numbers have always confirmed my truth!)

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Intuition 

Think about the psychic connections we share. I think of you, then the text chimes.

Of course, it’s you! That’s normal. Expected.

That’s how my reality works.

(So much takes place on so many levels that we won’t even acknowledge.)

Like dreaming.

Feeling.

Hunches.

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Questions:

And so I ask you. I ask me:

What in your Life is lost right now? How will you strive to find it?

What do you want to leave behind? How do you want to be remembered?

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What shall you shift in consciousness, before your leave this Green Earth?

How deep, how connected, do you want to go???

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So go for it, girl!

Blast off, boy!

Make the shift . . .

Take the dip . . .

Jump into the uncharted waters.

Shoot for the stars!

Roll onto the runway of Life, and lift off :))

For strategies in dealing with anxiety and depression, see my Depression Emergency Kit.

~~~~

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

~~___(\ ~~___(\ ~~___(\
…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

~~~~

Copyright 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ch-Ch-Changes!

1969 — The year we went to the moon. The year my rusted out ’69 Chevy pick up truck was brand spankin’ new.

The year my Dad — just months, even weeks, before he died — gave me one of his greatest gifts . . .

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I’m 16. It’s dark. Fall; Winter?

I’m waiting outside, under the lights, for Dad to pick me up from the Junior Achievement building in Culver City, CA.

Oh yes, here he comes — I hear the rattling engine of his black diesel Mercedes.

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What makes one simple statement a parent says to a kid stand out? Stay in their memory all of their life . . . out of all the interactions and conversations of my then-sixteen-years???

I don’t know the answer to this, but I’m sure glad — somehow, it did.

Dad’s Disneyland Band Patch

Dad was an Entertainer. Disneyland Bandleader. Fox Orchestra Studio Musician for TV and films. (Read more about Dad, and listen to his music, here: You can do ANYTHING!)

But by the late 1960s, things in Dad’s world had changed.

Walt Disney had died.

The new management of the Park had wanted to clean house, start fresh. Dad’s twelve-year Main Street Band run was up. Gig over.

And in the Film Industry, things were changing, as well.

The big orchestras were phasing out. Songs from folk and rock artists like Simon and Garfunkel, The Byrds, Steppenwolf, and such, were used in musical scores for films like Mrs. Robinson and Easy Rider.

There were fewer work calls for the older studio guys. Dad’s Big Band era had somewhat lapsed.

So Dad had less studio work. And he had time on his hands he’d never had before.

Instead of working insane hours every day, barely time to sleep or see his family — for the first time in his life, Dad was idle.

He still went to the airport. Still flew his plane. But less, way less.

V-Tail Beechcraft Bonanza — same style as Dad’s.

Dad had always played clarinet and saxophone professionally. But in those last few years he began playing flute, figuring it would help if he could be hired to play a third instrument.

I remember his flute scales fluttering in the background of my early high school life . . . homework, phone calls, messing around in my room, to the melody of his methodically  practiced notes.

To help with finances, Mom got a “dumb job,” as Dad called it. (I think he felt badly that she had to work; he missed her, and resented her time away from home.)

She worked at a department store, in customer service and returns.

(Mom, so fair and kind, was well suited to solving customer’s problems:)) Besides, Mom never complained. She seemed to enjoy it.)

But Dad was down. He had never, ever had so much time without constant work, and it didn’t suit his Type A, Bigger-than-Life personality.

~~~~

So Dad picked me up that night from Junior Achievement, and I rode in the car with him the fifteen minutes or so it took to get home.

I don’t know exactly how the conversation went, but I remember the stand-out statement:

“Honey. Things are always changing. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.”

In fact, I didn’t think much about it. Just one of so many conversations in family life.

Until the following February, when Dad died of a heart attack in the night.

What?!!!??

NO!!!!!

Is that what you meant by: “Things are always changing . . . ” !!!!???!!!!

~~~~

I’ve replayed that statement many, many times over the years. I still see Dad’s eyes, hear his voice. Like a mental tape recorder — words frozen in time.

And he’s right.

Things are always changing. Oftentimes when we least expect.

And our job is staying flexible. Ready.

Dad, born in the 1920s, was old school. Matter of fact.

Maybe another way of putting it would be:

“Honey. I want you to know that things are always changing. It’s our job, as humans here on Good ‘ol Planet Earth to adapt. To adjust. To find a way to thrive among Life’s shifting circumstances.

“I want you to know this, so that you will be ready. So that you can embrace change. So that it won’t knock you down. but you can continue on. Adapt and adjust to the new norms . . .”

David Bowie sings in 1971 — Ch-Ch-Changes :))

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Thank you, Dad!!!

You gave me a final gift. Of wisdom. A strategy for dealing with what Life has to offer.

And it’s really helped :))

Just to know, in advance, about the changes that loom ahead. For all of us.

As sure as the hands of Time . . .

Things are always changing, still.

So rather than grumble or complain: Adapt. Adjust. Take the lead, and make changes, too.

And yes — all these years later — I still take this one to heart! ❤

~~~~

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

~~___(\ ~~___(\ ~~___(\
…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

~~~~

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Copyright 2017

 

 

 

 

 

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Intuition . . . Speaks

Intuition.

What is it?

How do we identify it?

Define it?

. . . So illusive. So hard to nail down . . .

It seems to emerge from a fluttering, ethereal, nearby type of 6th sense.

A glimmer.

A feel.

A taste.

A shift.

Alerting me that something is up . . .

A buzz.

A dream.

A sense.

A peripheral glimpse — something from the sidelines . . .

However ephemeral, this intuitive function somehow finds a way into my world from wherever it normally dwells, rumpling its reality up against my own.

Prompting me that something important is near . . .

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Someone to meet.

Somewhere to go.

Listen! Look!

Stop! Wait!

Most of the important events of my Life seem to have found their origins in this other-worldly realm.

Jobs, husband, kids. Moves, upheavals, salvation.

An inner knowing.

A voice.

A flash of light.

A synchronicity.

Time seems to freeze. Colors grow bright. Exterior scenes pale. And it speaks to me, deep in my Soul. Right when I need an answer . . .

A piece of music.

A gust of wind.

A celestial alignment.

A cosmic event.

Preparing me. Alerting me. Open up! Listen!

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An animal.

A bird.

Representing a loved one.

Reassuring me that all is well . . .

The signs are all around me . . . dropping in. Waking me up from a dead sleep — more than once, saving the lives of those I love!

Wake up!

Get up!

Watch!

Act!

So I’ve learned to listen. Trust. Tune in to the elements surrounding me. Guiding me. Reassuring me . . .

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A daydream.

A vision.

A tinge.

A feeling of elation, or dread.

Intuition speaks. But it’s up to me to listen. Take heed.

Open up and allow the messages to guide me.

Fine-tuning my Life by the synchronicity. The timing — virtually dropping in.

And for this magical momentum, I thank Heavens!!!!

 

~~~~

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

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…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

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Copyright 2017

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Beacon (Soul) Friends

I identified them first, years ago.

The few special friends (Souls) that seem to stand out, and light up my way in Life.

Like a lamp. Like a lighthouse.

Illuminating beacons — like the bright sparkling lights alongside the landing strips of Life.

Welcoming. Reassuring.

Reminding me that I haven’t lost my way.

We may not have spoken in months. Years. Nothing lost. Still connected. Welcoming. Loved.

We pick up where we left off. Seamless. They GET me. Cut me slack. Wish me well.

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How many of these Beacon Friends might you have? Who are you set up to meet right now that might become one? What would you need to do, in reciprocation, to allow that special Beacon Bond to mature?

Looking back now, I didn’t always know it when I met them. Oftentimes, they caught me off guard.

Sometimes we drifted way, way apart.

Even, perhaps, they appeared seemingly unwelcome at the time.

But a Beacon Friend will stitch, with serendipity, back into your Life. Often in unexpected ways.

And over time they prove themselves. Solid. True.

And over the decades you come to respect them. Love them. Find encouragement and serendipity in their light :))

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Yet, like a magical, whimsical Sprite, they cannot be forced. Coerced. They choose who they will, and arise of their own accord.

Sometimes, someone we have high hopes for, who we think would become a Beacon, fizzles. Fades away into the distance. Not to be seen or heard from again.

Sometimes, too, they will by surprise re-appear, seemingly on a larger trajectory. (Not all planetary bodies orbit at the same rate. Some are closer. Others farther out . . . )

So when your Beacon Friends re-appear on the stage of your Life, take note. The Stars are trying to tell you something.

Listen. Look. Be ready.

They were put here to bring you a sign.

Don’t miss it!

Remain grateful. Gracious. Open.

Their coming could save you from running aground on some sharp reef. Or crashing into the abyss by missing some important runway.

~~~~

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

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…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

~~~~

Copyright 2017

Portrait of Dawn with Blossoms, courtesy of: Beacon Sister, Robin Bobin :))

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Blossoms in the Garden of Friendship

Friendships. Real friends. Soul connections.

We all need them. Crave them. Like plants crave water and sun.

Yet how do I find them? Connect with them?

What makes them grow? What makes them fizzle?

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Home Away from Home

I’ve worked overseas for the past fourteen years. In Hawaii. Shoeing horses there. Flying to my Island community and working there for two weeks out of every six . . .

Yet when I sent my anvil and all my tools home to California last year, I left one of my most important assets behind: My friends.

My emotional safe havens. (You know who you are :))

With all my travels, I made wonderful. Deep. Friendships. Now 2,500 miles away!

So how do I go about rebuilding here, at home, the bonds of friendship I forged there?

Open Doors — Chance Meetings

We meet people, all the time. But what makes a friendship? What opens a door and makes a chance meeting, a chance encounter, develop farther, deeper — into a friend?

Exchange

Something has to spark. To happen. And really, most people seem to hold their energy so tight, so close, there’s little room for exchange to occur.

It’s just not on their agenda to be open to meeting. Interacting. Growing.

Dance card, Life card — full. No room for another friend.

Curiosity

Who are you? What is your Life like? (And. . . what does your Life have to offer . . . me, and my Life? And mine . . . to yours?)

Do we have anything in common? Do we share a basis for growth?

Are you kind? (Or mean!)

Are you reliable? (Or a flake.)

Can you be counted on . . . (Or would you let me down?)

Courtship

Do you wanna dance? See if we even could be friends?

Or is your Life too full already.

Wanna meet for lunch?

Dinner?

Talk on the phone?

Because the next, most essential, element has to happen if we are to be friends . . .

Time — Interaction

We have to actually, really, carve out some kind of time together. We have to share interaction for friendship to exist.

(This is why most of my friendships have come from my clients — I spend time with them. And their horses. And over time, I get to know them. And they get to know me.)

I watch their cycles. They watch mine.

I watch their reactions in Life.

And we see if we can trust each other.

And we choose, or not, to open up to one another . . .

Energy

What is the energy created between us?

Growth? Inspiration? Harmony?

Or, annoyance? Angst? Criticism?

Or even, NOTHING! Stalled-out energy that leaves us flat . . .

Reciprocation

Is it just me, trying to connect with you? Or do you include me in your thoughts and actions?

Do you call me? Or is it just always and only up to me to call you?

Because if it’s always and only up to me to reach out to you — it won’t work.

Growth

If you do reciprocate. If we do share/create harmonious energy between us, then we have the chance to grow :))

Share insights. Exchange ideas. Perspectives. Enhance each other’s lives.

Create a psychic bond.

Become a support for one another . . .

Together we become like a plant in soil, with sun, air, water, nutrients.

Our blossoms mixing into a colorful bouquet to brighten the day :))

Vulnerability

I think that all of the above paints a description of being vulnerable. Open. Because, as we know from previous friendships, in opening up, we take a risk.

We could invest time. Love. Hope in a person.

But they could turn on us, let us down.

Hurt us. Step on us. Spit us out.

(In which case, that wasn’t a true friend, now was it! Stay far, far away!!!)

Yet it would seem most friendships die because they get crowded out — by the weeds,  (activities), of Life. By other competing elements (work, family, friends). By a lack of room for proper growth.

Or they just don’t receive the needed nutrients.

Not enough water (time spent together). Sunlight (interaction, inspiration).

So they wither and die, or just barely survive . . .

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So what kind of friend (gardener) do I want to be? Will I tend to the beautiful blossoms in my friend-garden?

Will I allow myself to be vulnerable. Open. Will they?

Will our friendship blossom? Grow?

Like the colorful pansies in the ceramic pots on my porch. (So far, I’ve kept them alive! In fact, they thrive :))

Or will I forget them, in neglect.

(No!)

And let them wither and die?

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Friendships. Real friends. Soul connections.

We all need them. Yet we have to feed them —

Provide them with soil, water and sun,

So they may, hopefully, continue to blossom.

And if they fizzle, please don’t snivel —

But give them water, and love, once again :))

~~~~

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

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…/< >\ …/< >\ …/< >\

~~~~

Copyright 2017