The Deep End

When I was little, my siblings and I had to take swimming lessons. They were in 2-week chunks for a few summers, and took place at the lake in our town. At 9am, when our classes were held, the beach was in total shade, the water was chilly, the sand was freezing and we had to blow bubbles in the silty water near the shore. So not fun.

Swimming lessons are one of those things you build into your skill set, and then forget the actual instructions. I know there was kicking and bubble blowing and trying to float, but I don't actively think of those things when I am swimming now. One lesson did stick with me though. It popped back into the front of my mind yesterday while a client and I were discussing sadness.

Sadness is one of those things that you are raised not to want to have or experience. We're taught to aim to be happy, to pursue happiness, to share happiness. So when as we grow we experience sadness, we want to gloss over it, cast it aside. We're ashamed to show our sad faces.  But there are times even passionately happy people feel sadness. And that's ok.

So, what does sadness have to do with swimming lessons?

The lesson that stuck with me over all these years was an exercise in keeping calm if you were becoming too tired or overwhelmed in deep water. If you're by yourself, treading water is becoming too hard, and yet you're still somewhat close to the shore, here's what you do.

You let yourself sink. Totally let go. Torpedo yourself into a straight line, point your toes down toward the bottom, raise your hands over your head and sink down to the bottom.

When your toes touch the sandy, seaweedy bottom, let yourself sink just a little further and then push off with your feet. When your head pops out of the water, take a deep breath and repeat. Bob up and down, gradually pushing yourself closer to shore, until you can touch bottom for good. Instead of panicking, you choose the thing that seems the most counter-intuitive and you calmly save yourself.

In a similar way, letting yourself hit bottom once in awhile can be just what you need to gently push through a sad time. When sadness comes around, don't panic and let it keep you down. Gently sink into it and just as gently bob yourself up from the depths toward the sunshine and fresh air. Eventually, like someone once said, there's nowhere to go but up.

Limitations

                                                                                 

"If you are going to doubt anything,

doubt your limits." -Don Ward

                                                                       

    Very early this morning, while I was taking my becoming-a-daily-habit walk, I was deeply immersed in my business plan, believe it or not. Sanding off the rough edges of my goals. Letting the pegs settle into the holes. Rubik's Cube-ing my future. (Wait 'til you see what's coming up...!)

Anyway, it was just becoming light and I was moving through a neighborhood at a lively pace. No music, no company, no real distractions, just thoughts and breathing. Suddenly, I heard a crazy animal chattering noise, unlike any I've heard. I turned my head in time to see a large raccoon! Heading down a driveway, chasing after me, cussing up a storm in Raccoonish! Yikes!

While it would have been within my biological rights to scream 'like a girl', I just exclaimed to myself and the trees, "Oh!" And then, I ran! 

The End.

What? The End? 

Yes. That's all. I ran! Nicely too! I guess the videos on running form from OptimalRun.com sunk in a bit...I'd been thinking it was just the cool tunes and the dude with the blocks that were inspiring!

Certainly, I took off running because of the freakish wild animal chasing me away from her kids or the dumpster or whatever raccoon drama she may have been struggling with.  She didn't give chase for too long. I could have stopped. But I didn't! As Forrest Gump said, "I was running!"

Granted, it was not for long. It's been a long time and a lot of cookies since I was walking 4 or more miles at a blistering pace, each and every day, no matter the weather. I'm not silly enough to push myself too hard. Yet. But, I ran. And suddenly all the limitations I had been letting settle in seemed like phantom voices, vanishing...POOF!...into the early morning air.

There is nothing that I can't do, if I push aside my perceived limitations and just go for it. This gaining-on-half-a-century body is somewhat underused, but it's quite serviceable and will do quite nicely, thank you, with a little love, and with some clear thoughts. I have been known to become a little stubborn, even donkey-like, when told I can't do something, or that an idea I have won't work. So what the heck am I doing, allowing my limitations, mere thoughts, vapor!, to dictate what I can manage? Hello! Wake-up call!!

I thank that grouchy raccoon for starting this morning's ripple. I had been heading toward picking up my pace a little bit more each day, but had been holding back a bit. Resting on my limitations. Now I see that I just needed a kick in the pants to remind me that I am capable of not only conquering my physical goals, but my mental ones too. I have a feeling the ripples from this animal encounter will be far-reaching and magnificent. 

It's funny, but I've always joked that I don't run unless I'm being chased! Tomorrow, I think I'll try it again, raccoon or not. See you on the path!

Judgement

"My choice is what I choose to do

And if I'm causin' no harm, it shouldn't bother you.

Your choice is who you choose to be

And if you're causin' no harm, then you're alright with me."

-Ben Harper

     This morning I woke from a vivid dream. One of those epiphany-type dreams in which the 'light bulb' truly appears. It's been a long time coming, but the words to express how I feel about judgement may have finally found their way to my fingertips.

In my dream, someone I know, someone real, was working in a coffee bar in another state. (They would NEVER work in a coffee bar, but after all, it was a dream). We had not seen each other in years. I was only slightly reserved in approaching them, as our last parting had been less than tender. I dropped my nerves and ran up to them, arms outstretched for a hug. They blocked the hug, looked at me with disdain, said they had to go, and literally took off running. I was stunned. Worse, as they ran, they called over their shoulder, "I'll be back," but although I waited, they never returned.  PS, I don't even like coffee.

In the dream, I was furious, hurt, embarrassed.  Judged. Ouch.  Especially given the fact that, in real life, this person had been in a vulnerable, explosive, easily-judged situation many years ago, with complete, utter, no-questions-asked, non-judgmental support from me. Who, of all people, did they think they were?!

I should mention that I enjoy casually dissecting my dreams, usually finding reasonable explanations for the strange things that occur in them. Sometimes they are fueled by carbs close to bedtime...I call them Ice Cream Dreams. Other times, it's just the busy work of my brain, clearing out space for the new stuff I try to jam into it. But sometimes, an issue that I have been Rubik's Cube-ing for a long while becomes miraculously clear during my dreams. As with this morning, I wake up almost wanting to shout with joy, the clarity is such a gift!

No, I certainly don't think waking from this dream will find me being less judged by this person. They are on their page, and I am on mine, as it should be. Instead, I feel like my feelings of being judged in general, by anyone, have somehow been processed. In using this individual to depict the issue, my brain manufactured this dream and made it crystal clear why judgement, especially from this one person, hurts and nags at me so much. Because I was once an absolute pillar of non-judgement for them, it's all the more painful that this is the choice they've made in looking at my life. As I used to say when I was little, "It's not fair!" 

In massage school, I took a course called Personal Potential with Beth Bilyak. Eye-opening class; peaceful, lit-from-within, ninja-dynamo of an instructor. One of the subjects was discerning Judgment from Assessment.

As evolving humans, we need Assessment. It's that instinct that tells you whether or not a person or situation is a danger to you. It's not as critical to humans as it used to be...we are not, after all, being pursued by Saber- Toothed Tigers during the course of our days...but still a valuable survival tool. 

Judgment is different. It contains some components of assessment; you look at a person, learn a little about them. The shift happens when you begin to judge, to compare, to keep a person in a certain category for any number of criteria. Judgment can separate, alienate, foster hate. Judgement can truly hurt.

It couldn't be more plain, more clear, more simple than this: We are all human beings. Made up of the same stuff, from the inside out. The choices we make, if they aren't harming anyone, shouldn't matter in the least. I even remind myself from time to time that it's their choice to judge, and even though I don't like it, it's judgmental of me to say so! Exactly who are we to judge...anyone? 

I urge you to begin a ripple. A ripple of Non-Judgment. Start small; it's surprisingly difficult at first! Look at someone near you, and simply see them. Do not be critical of their hairstyle, their clothing, their lunch choice, their car. Just notice them, and recognize them for who they are; a member of your race, the human race.

"Once in a golden hour,

I cast to earth a seed,

And up there grew a flower,

That others called a weed."

-Alfred Tennyson

Compassion

What comes to mind when you think of the word compassion? I checked the dictionary and, according to Webster, compassion means deep sympathy. 
With all the stuff we see in the world today, it's easy to remember a time when you felt compassion. Natural disasters, illnesses and deaths, crimes against humanity...we feel for those affected. Our sympathy is aroused and we feel like we want to help, somehow, some way. We often act on that desire to help, to give back. We travel to affected areas and offer up our time or services. We volunteer to help those that can not help themselves for whatever reason. Perhaps in our jobs we work tirelessly to improve laws or boundaries or protection. Maybe we work to help people simply feel better. 
We have seen what our fellow man is experiencing and, to a lesser degree, we feel it ourselves. We are compassionate.
Recently, compassion was the topic of a Weight Watchers meeting I attended. We were asked if we thought we were compassionate people. Most of our hands went up. In my work, I have to be in touch with my compassionate side in order to help my clients feel their best, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I listen to their concerns with my full concentration and spend our sessions showing them how much I care and how much I want to help.
Next at the meeting we were asked if we were just as compassionate with ourselves. I can tell you, hardly any hands went up this time. We looked around the room at one another, uncomfortable, pondering. What's this about? We all feel that we have compassion, but when it comes to our own self, no? 
Wow.
The leader gave an example. Your friend falls off the diet wagon and eats an entire bag of Oreos. She calls you and tells you about it. You do...what? Judge, berate and criticize our friend for her mistake? Of course not! We gave our answers...don't let this little bump in the road stop you from achieving your goals, we all make mistakes, be a little more careful with your calories for the next few days, maybe take an extra walk this week. Compassion, in other words.
Then the leader asked how we treat ourselves when we fall off the wagon. I can tell you that compassion was not the word! We all agreed that when we make the same missteps as our peers, while we might comfort and support them compassionately, we beat the heck out of ourselves! Now, does that seem fair? Not so much.
Our leader really got me thinking. I spare barely an ounce of compassion for myself, saving and spending almost all of it on others. Not fair to me, certainly, but not fair to others in my life either! Think of how much more help I could be to others if I worked harder to treat myself equally as well, with just as much compassion. Give myself the pat on the back, the words of encouragement, the benefit of the doubt. Just think of it! 
If you are in the business of compassion, if you are a person who feels for those around you, then start with YOU. Start with YOU! Love yourself as you love others, and you'll love others better for it. Save some compassion for your own sweet self, and watch the ripple of compassion multiply. It has to start somewhere! Why not with you?

The Reminder

From time to time, when we go through droughts of creativity, periods of sadness, or times of dissatisfaction, we often throw a bit of a pity party. We tend to look for someone or something to blame. We search with increasing frustration for the answer, the happiness, the next successful project. We lose equilibrium and sleep, gain stress and wrinkles.
We're going about it all wrong.
When these little bumps in your path arise, hit the pause button.  Take these little blips as reminders. I find that when a project isn't coming out like I have imagined it, I have a choice. I can force it, or I can take the reminder. When I look at a full day of clients on my schedule, and suddenly have cancellations or no-shows, I can get upset, or I can take the reminder. When I am out in the world, wondering why people can't think like I do, I can give out angry finger gestures or I can take the reminder.
What is the reminder?
The reminder tells you to be patient. To set your struggles aside for just a little bit and look around you. What can you see? You might see other projects you've successfully completed. You might see evidence of past peaceful, happy times.  You might, for just a small time, look at the world in new ways. You might realize that you have been going non-stop for far too long, and that your time for stopping to smell the roses is long overdue. You just might recognize the need to take some good old-fashioned care of yourself.
Don't freak out when the painting isn't just right! Don't stress when the words just won't form brilliant paragraphs! Don't go off the deep end when your day isn't as booked as your checkbook needs it to be!
Take the reminder...and rest.
Take a walk. Take a nap. Watch a movie. Catch some rays. Read a book slightly below your normal reading level. Play with some kids or puppies. Chat with a friend. Kiss someone you love. When you take some time to be open to the little things, which, as we all know, are the big things, your being slows down and opens up. Your  senses take in things in completely different ways. Your guard is down, your enthusiasm is up. And guess what happens then? The answers sneak up behind you and lovingly make themselves known. Your projects turn out more gloriously than previously imagined. The next full work day you have will be one of your best and most rewarding. Your ideas will astound you and all those they reach. You will amaze.
Love yourself. Be as compassionate with yourself as you are with everyone you meet. Take the reminder when it comes, and witness the ripple.

Spring CleaRing

Spring is here! Some of us may be feeling it more than others, but the notion that the season has changed is sometimes enough to change your whole outlook.  If you haven't yet felt the weather effects, tap into the things you can do to nurture that Spring feeling within.
* Respectfully bid farewell to Old Man Winter. Thank him for the extra water he's left behind, for hosting the winter holidays, and providing us with beautiful snowy scenes. Do this as you joyfully bury your sweaters, jackets, mittens, scarves and boots deeeep in your closet. A slightly devious smile is welcomed during this process.
* Start your Spring Cleaning. I have somewhat of a problem with 'forced cleaning' but I will tell you that Spring Cleaning feels phenomenal. When it's done, that is. Put your hair up, choose a long, jazzy playlist, open the windows and go to it. Mentally make plans on how you'll take a shower, light some candles, pour some wine and check out your new clean place from your favorite comfy chair that evening.
* Check out March Madness. Even if basketball isn't your thing, the hype and excitement of this one-and-done college tournament never fails to produce some great human interest stories. No special snacks or attire required, although a sports bar does heighten the experience somewhat.
* Get out in the Sun. A healthy dose of Vitamin D, delivered the old-fashioned way, never fails to provide a pick-me-up. If it's still chilly, bring a blanket. Breathe deeply and clear out those winter cobwebs.
* Start something new. Spring brings to me a feeling that something fresh is just around the corner. I always seem to want to do something different. I have asked a friend to help me refresh my high school Spanish, and I have several new Zombie dolls dancing across the new greening landscape of Spring.
* Meditate. If you get a little freaked out by the notion, rest easy. Meditation doesn't have to be so serious! Just taking a few moments to reflect on what you are grateful for, while drawing in deep, cleansing breaths, will tweak your soul, guaranteed. Why not do it in the sunshine?!
* Share some Love and Kindness.  Not many things feel better than sharing your gifts with others. Call a friend, gift someone a little Spring bouquet, do a small unexpected favor for someone you love. Give random hugs. Smile at any person who looks your way. Spread the ripple of joy, people!
Spring has Sprung!

Awareness

                                                             Hugging Trees- Avon, CT

Who knows when it is in the growing-up process that we become aware of exactly what it is we're aiming at. We've been children and then teens, being cared for, instructed, guided and told what to do. When does that shift occur? The time when we suddenly draw our line in the sand...the line that says 'from here on out, I am aware of my choices and I want to do or be (fill in the blank)'.
Certainly there is no defining time when awareness shows up. It's not calendar-based; sixteen=driver's license, eighteen=vote, twenty-one=legally bar-hop. There isn't a specific age when parents or mentors or teachers can tell an individual, "Get ready...it's almost Awareness Time".
That's the enigma, right there. If you aren't aware, then you can't see that it's time to hone your awareness skills!
So I propose this...awareness instruction should begin early, early, early! Parents...teachers...leaders of any sort...help begin the cultivation of awareness in young people. Ask the questions! Nurture the curiosity! Feed the creativity! Fatten the observation skills! Help children see. Really see!
Of course, then it becomes obvious that we have a 'chicken or the egg' kind of thing happening, right? I mean, if you haven't grown up with awareness, how on Earth are you going to cultivate it in others? The answer is...Start Small. One tiny awareness exercise at a time. Here are two to try;
---Next time you are going to eat something, turn off the tv, put down the magazine, find some solitude. Sit at your table with your food. Take the first bite and...make it last. Think about what this food is doing for your body. What does it feel like in your mouth? Temperature, texture, aroma, flavor, spice, noise; really describe your mouthful to yourself.
---On your next ride to work, look around. You take the same route each and every day, but I bet many of you get to work on autopilot, not even remembering a thing about the journey. Try opening your eyes. The sky in early morning or evening, a hawk over a field, a van packed with construction workers, a woman in the SUV parade applying her make-up while on the phone and slurping Starbucks, the patterns made by the cars streaming by you, new billboards, kids with giant backpacks walking to school; illustrate and color your ride...open your eyes to the itty-bitty occurrences that make up everyday miracles.
As I get older, I become more grateful each day for the awareness I have, and for the drive to grow it. I'm observant, sure, but awareness is more. It's not only seeing, but feeling, intuit-ing, wondering. I wonder at stuff, about stuff. About what people think, feel, what makes them tick. This wondering has rippled through my life in many ways...in love and friendship, in work and creativity, and with everyone I meet. When you approach life with such a desire to truly see everything, to move in an aware way, the things that follow will stun you with their brilliance. What appears will absolutely blow your mind.
Perhaps the ultimate understatement lies in the trite phrase 'Life is Short'. It so is! Time flies by faster and faster. Don't you want to see some stuff along the way? I know I do.

The Student was Ready

When my husband Rick talks about the beginning of his career, he often presents a wonderful quote. It's a Buddhist proverb that says, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
When I started massage school in Connecticut several years ago, I knew I was in the right place. I had visited the very same school many years prior to that and fell in love with it, but the circumstances of that part of my life didn't allow for me to enroll. I know now that I wasn't ready at that earlier point. And when I was finally able to begin my courses in massage therapy, I just knew that it was the perfect new path for me to take.
Since I was working full time and going to school part time, 3 evenings a week, my time at school was broken up into 5 'semesters'. With each passing week my passion for my future career grew. I loved my classmates, my classes and the work. In the third semester, we had a class called Energetic Foundations. I was very excited for this class, and more than a little curious. When I told my 'science and math' son about it, he scoffed, saying, "There's no scientific basis for that." I had no idea if there was but I couldn't wait to start it.
The time came for the first class. At our school, we sat on pillows on the floor in a circle. As we entered the room, there was a serene centerpiece in the middle of the circle. We settled in and met our instructor, Richard Harris. There were the opening greetings, remarks, sharing, and rules and regs. Then we got into the subject.
You know how in movies when a person achieves a goal or makes a profound discovery and the soundtrack may play a Hallelujah chorus? That's exactly what happened. As soon as Richard began showing us about energetic work, I knew that 'the teacher had appeared'. From that very first class, I knew the major focus of my massage work would be with energy work of some kind. It comes out of me naturally and now here was this guy telling me how to direct it for the good of my clients! It was then and remains to this day my favorite class.
Fast forward awhile. I have been working as a massage therapist for 2 years now and my love for and interest in energy work has only grown. And this past weekend, I had the privilege of teaching my very first energy workshop! I wondered if I'd be able to teach this class in a way that would help them understand. Could I get across to them and help them learn what is built into me already? Turns out I could. And I did. It was a gratifying and energizing day.
Looking back at past experiences, it's easy to see how this ripple grew. I used to love playing teacher and I loved school.  (Well, grammar school anyway.) I raised my children, which is teaching every day. Having a spirited and involved group of classmates to go through school with was vital. Being married to a brilliant teacher lays terrific groundwork for the type of exchange necessary between students and instructors.  Even the experience I gained while teaching 2-year-olds for a year came in handy! And landing in a classroom with an instructor who knew his stuff, was passionate about his subject, and gifted in getting his message across to students, was an especially valuable gift.

Thanks to the special teachers throughout my public school years, the many unofficial mentors I've learned from, my bright and curious kids, my beloved CCMT classmates, my remarkable husband, a pack of toddlers, and Richard Harris. Being blessed with all these experiences and guides assures me that this energetic ripple of students and teachers will never end.

News of Life and Death

Life and death...perhaps the original ripple. A life begins, miraculous in itself. The ripples begin, circling out and out and out. Eventually, the ripples begin to return, in and in, smaller, tighter closer. The miracle of life, in this incarnation anyway, ceases.

Life. Especially new life!  Oh so amazing! All those cells dividing to head to a stunning sum; a breathing, wriggling, snuggly irresistible creature arrives. New life has such a pull for me...as time goes on and as my own children have passed into adulthood, babies are just such a confirmation of hope and faith. Plus they just smell so yummy!
Death though, now that's another animal entirely. In our culture, we fear death and all it entails...loss, sadness, uncertainty, pain of all kinds. No less miraculous, just much tougher to grasp.
Yesterday, I had the privilege to receive news of both new life and death. Yes, you heard me, privilege. In this world of news-at-your-fingertips, we forget that news is shared. Someone thinks 'this is valuable information...I'll share it with you.' Well I certainly got my share yesterday.
Yesterday morning before I started work, I took a few minutes to check out Facebook. I came across News Gift Number One. Friends of ours recently welcomed their new daughter into the world, and they'd put a slide show of her home birth into an album which appeared on Facebook yesterday morning. Let me tell you, there are few words to describe it. Mom labored and gave birth at home, as naturally as could be. And though Mom had shared her experience with me already, while I held their 2-week-old sweet pea in my arms, the black and white photos of their family in these tender hours really told the story. 'Beautiful', like 'awesome' and 'amazing', have become such trite and overused words, but it was truly a thing of simple and emotional beauty. I was privileged to be able to witness it and celebrate the joy of a new life.
Later on that day, I received News Gift Number Two. This time though, I received news of the end of life. A young life. Ouch. Much more difficult to see this as a privilege.
Early this summer, in the midst of a very hectic day of massage, I looked over the client information form of my next client. The things I immediately noticed...Her unusual name. Her age. 14. And a glaring statement at the bottom of the page. Bone Marrow Transplant. As someone once said, "Hold up, wait a minute!" Took myself a few seconds and approached the only 14-year-old in the lobby. Reached my hand out and took hers. Introductions were exchanged and so began one of the most impactful hours of my life.
We headed back to my massage room. I explained what this type of massage is all about, since it was to be her first professional massage. Then I asked about the bone marrow stuff. She was matter-of-fact and clear. Diagnosed with cancer at 4. Bone marrow transplant coming up in a few weeks. Yow.
We had our session. Her body relaxed very well for a person unused to that kind of touch. Through my hands, I sent every positive message of gratitude that I had within me. She loved her massage, and as with any client, I loved helping her to feel better in some way.  At the end of our session, I gave her a gift certificate that I'd received...I told her to feel free to come back before her procedure and that I'd be happy to help her relax before the big event. She and her Mom were very grateful. I was blown away by the entire thing.
The date of her transplant approached and she and her Mom appeared on our schedule. Shortly before the transplant, their names vanished. The front desk staff told me that they'd had to cancel, Dr's orders. I felt a little shiver of something...fear, premonition, who knows. All I know is that girl had stuck with me. I thought of her very often and wished for her. The summer passed by.
2 days ago, as I checked my schedule, I saw her Mom's name. A little hope and more than a little dread surged through me. I mentioned to Rick that she was coming in and that I hoped to hear some news. I brought along one of my crazy zombie dolls as a gift...they are right up this girl's alley! The appointment time drew near.
Right on time, Mom came through the door. And I knew. I've only met her once and I just knew what she'd tell me. We headed back to my room.
I asked her "What's happening with you?" She said, "Well, you remember my daughter that you worked on?" I said, "Of course! She made a very big impact on me." And she said "Well, she passed, on the 11th." And you all know what I did. Gave her a big hug and started to cry. No time for professional boundaries in this case. She shared with me some details of the end of her daughter's life. What a painful, gorgeous, poignant gift  to receive. We went on to agree that if the session was too tough for either of us, we'd let the other know. Instead, it was a beautiful give and take, between client and therapist, between Moms of children of any age, between women, between human beings. Astounding to me, every day, every session, the power of touch and human connection.
At the end of our session, she told me that it was perfect...just what she needed. And somehow, just like meeting her daughter that day this summer, it was just what I needed too.
I asked her if she'd like the doll that I made, and she took it with gratitude. She said what I had thought might be true, "Oh, she would have loved this!" We hugged and we parted ways. I have a feeling we'll meet again.
The gifts of this day were enormous for me. Reminders to live, really live life. Feel it all, suck it up and share it with anyone you meet. Be thankful for the intersections of your life with others. Some of these moments are just too stunning to let them fly by unnoticed.

Welcome, Ainsley.
Farewell, Sixx.
Thank you both so very much for the ripples you've begun.

Creativity

Earlier this summer, a new creative ripple began for me. It has turned out to be wide-spread and far-reaching. Although some of you have seen the fruits of my new creative bursts,  I'd like to share with you exactly how this particular ripple began.
Friends of ours were expecting a baby, due in early September. For many years now, I have made baby quilts for the new little ones of friends and relatives. I love the entire process, from choosing the fabric to determining the pattern, to cutting up the fabric only to sew it back together again. In mid-summer, I went to the fabric store to wander around and get some inspiration. After a few hours of perusing, I decided on fabric and had a very loose idea of a pattern. I headed to the checkout line. In this particular store, waiting in line can take for-ev-er. They have strategically placed tons of small add-on items in the line, along with their magazine rack. As the line crawled by the rack, a crafter magazine caught my eye. It was called Stuffed and it had 3 crazy looking pink dolls on the cover. I picked it up and the rest, as they say, is history. Or ripple, if you prefer.
I did not buy the magazine that night. I'm not a huge consumer of stuff. Rick is the magazine person of our household. But I just could not get this magazine out of my head! The few dolls and creatures I saw had lit my imagination on fire! The next day, I went to another store that carried it and I bought it. And I bet I have looked at it a hundred times or more by now.
I did make the baby quilt, along with a very sweet dolly to match. That week, I not only completed those two projects, but three other 'zombie' type dolls. They are like nothing I have ever made!
Creativity is such a random thing! I have been creating since I was young; everything from drawing and writing to sewing and painting. Sometimes the ideas are so fast- and free-flowing that my hands can't seem to keep up with my imagination. And sometimes the well is dry, or so it appears, and the creative side of me settles on the back burner for awhile. Through periods in my life of great stress, sadness or challenge, the creative side of me almost dies, and though it sometimes seems like it will never return, it always does, just when I least expect it! And no matter how long it's been dormant, I welcome that side of me back with open arms, because it just feels so darn good to make something from start to finish.
The dolls I've made are piling up now on a shelf in our room. I have gifted some and bartered some. One was made from two fabric scraps I found on my walk one morning! I never know what will inspire the next creature...I just pull out the scrap bag, choose a fabric and get started. There are no such things as mistakes...when something doesn't go as I had planned, I roll with it and see what happens. The idea I finish with is almost never the idea I begin with, and that is the best thing about the whole process! The more dolls I make, the more that pop into my imagination!
If you are thinking of doing something creative, but don't know what you'll do or how to start, take my advice; just start! If you like the idea of painting, get some brushes and paint and see what comes out. If it's not at all what you like, try again. If it's a little what you like, keep going. If it's a lot what you like, share it, gift it or frame it! Remember, it's not what other artists in the world have done that you are basing your creativity on, it's what's in your heart and your hands. Creativity just plain feels good! So what are you waiting for?
The dolls I make now have their own Facebook page called Fiddleheads and Chaos. And I'm in the process of stocking the shelves of my new Etsy shop by the same name. I will offer my dolls as one-of-a-kind creations, but I'm also open to custom orders. I look forward to the ripples this new venture will bring my way. And I also look forward to seeing what you create! Let the creativity ripple begin!

Give and Take

When I was little, we had a swing set in our back yard.  On one end of it was a thing we called the Push-me-Pull-me.  I have no idea what its real name was but that's what we called the glider type ride that needed two kids, working in rhythm, to make it go. You would push out your feet on the peg and the other kid would pull on their handle, then switch on the back swing. You had to push to get the pull, each of you, so you'd both enjoy the ride. The name could have been Give-me-Take-me.  That ride was one of the first concrete demonstrations of give and take that I can remember.

When we humans are born, we take.  Take take take! We are helpless and completely dependent on our parents for every need we have. At this point, the parents do alllllll the giving and we do allllll the taking. As we grow, our parents begin to teach us how to be Givers.  Especially if you are raised with siblings, sharing is one of the first giving lessons you're taught. We learn to share our toys or our snacks. The balance between taking and giving slowly begins to shift.

Because we are human, and human nature is what it is, the shift doesn't smoothly change from taking to giving in one gentle curve.  It looks more like an EKG read-out. As we go through school, we quickly learn who to share with by seeing how generous they are in return. Somewhere in grammar school, a Taker named Janice Hollar met a Giver named Pam, who gave over her allowance money and never saw it again. Ouch! Hard lesson! And certainly the teen years are defined by taking. It's the time when we are trying on all kinds of hats to see what we're actually made of. Because of that self-absorbed process, we are rarely thinking much about giving.

As we begin to have long term relationships outside of family, we become very giving. What feels better than giving a gift to a new love? Perhaps receiving one! And before you know it, one of these relationships becomes permanent. When we become parents, we see exactly how completely giving our parents were when we were babies. It's just plain true that you never fully understand this until you actually have a child of your own. We continue the ripple by teaching our children how to give.

While I think that there do exist Givers and Takers of all ages in this world, there is an ebb and flow involved. For instance, when you're sick, your partner or maybe your coworkers must give some more. And you must take. Or when life has shifted in a large and unexpected way and you just can't do it on your own...you need help! If you've given in the past, there are Givers around you who are more than willing to give to you. Of course, the converse is true. You sometimes must give much more than your share when someone else must take for awhile. 

As we grown older and the cycle winds around on itself again, we must naturally become Takers again. If we are lucky enough to have a giving partner to share our life with, we can play the give and take game for as long as we both are able. Give as much as you can, while you can! Your efforts will bring many rewards down the road.

I consider myself, at this stage of my life, a Giver. There have been times when I needed to be a Taker. It was very hard but necessary and I did it. I am doing my best to be a Giver now, since there are so many people who need to take, even just a little. With every massage session, I give as much of myself as I can, always remembering somewhere in my mind the enormous generosity I received when I needed to be a Taker. It's my pleasure to give. And when the ripple comes back and I might need to take again, I just need to remember that the Giver really wants to help me, if I have to be a Taker for just a little while.

Perspective

It happens to all of us, from the crankiest pessimist to the sunniest optimist. There comes a time when all of us get down in the dumps.  Feel sorry for ourselves. Want to stay under the covers and cry even. There's nothing wrong with that in my opinion. It's healthy to feel those waves of emotion. Difficult but normal. Ick.
Sometimes though, just when it feels like you are the only one on this good Earth that has a problem or even just the blues, you get a reminder that you are soooo not. If you notice and grab onto that reminder, you can ride a rejuvenating ripple back up to the sunny side of the street.
I had been feeling just a little blah, which for me, feels like a lot blah.  Not my norm. I can't drag that around though. At the very least, the world doesn't need another speck of negativity. Not to mention my clients, and especially my husband! I was working on it and to some degree feeling a little better. Took a nap, rested my body, mind and soul. Then tonight I had a massage outcall.
An outcall is very rare for me. Throughout my work days I give my all to my co-workers and clients. I like to spend my off time at home, ideally with Rick. But a friend asked me if I'd work with her friend at a re-hab hospital. He'd had a poor result from surgery and needed massage.  Would I call him? Of course, I did, and met with him tonight. The re-hab hospital turned out to be a nursing home. Here's this vital non-senior citizen in with a mainly elderly population. He is in a great deal of discomfort and has a high level of frustration. He needs a walker to move around. However, he and his wife greet me with enthusiasm and gratitude. Leading me to, what else but...
What the heck do I have to complain about?
I mean, for real...I have the use of my two good legs. I work in a spa; if I need massage, I just say so, any time. I have all the things I could ever want, and most importantly, the love of my life by my side. When I entered this man's room, it was like that smack in the face we all sometimes need to remind us of exactly how lucky we are.
But that's not all.
While I am working with my client and his wife, there comes a knock at the door.  A staff member pushes a wheelchair into the room, in which an elderly man is sitting. Although he was very old, he was sharply dressed. Although he spoke quietly and with some effort, he was still 'with it'. The man I came to work with introduced the elderly man and asked him to share his story. Turns out that the elderly man has been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer.
WOW.
Not only that, his wife, experiencing dementia symptoms for a few years, had recently been told that she could no longer be on her own, and was going to be placed in a facility for her growing needs. When my client asked the elderly gentleman how long he and his bride had been married, he told us 59 years. His eyes lit up and he told us how they had met, courted and married. Before he left to return to his own room, my client asked his wife, a preacher, to pray for the man. We all joined hands as she spoke. When she had finished her prayer, the elderly man, tears streaming down his face, shook each of our hands, sincerely thanked us, and slowly wheeled himself out.
That smack in the face I mentioned earlier now was a full-on kick in the pants. When I set out to do my friend a favor and help out a person in pain, I had no idea what the session would bring. I knew that I'd be able to help with some pain and stiffness, but I was surprised, not for the first time either, at how I was helped too.
I know it's easier said than done to get out of a funk. I am most always a positive and cheerful person, but sometimes you just have to lay low and heal. It's not always that you have a series of reminders like I had tonight. While sad and touching, these events serve to help you re-frame your stuff and move forward in a better way. I choose to use these experiences to help me relate to others I meet, in the world, in the spa, on-line. My lessons learned are rippled forward, in the hopes that I can remember just how much I have to be grateful for and how much sunshine and love I have to give.

Minimal Footwear, Maximum Ripple

Here they are, those odd five-toed shoes that seem to be everywhere these days. This particular pair belongs to my rebel husband Rick, that Vibram-wearing biomechanical bank of knowledge. I wear them only when I do massage, but Rick wears them all the time. However, he didn't begin to wear them because 'everybody is doing it'.  To be fair, Rick doesn't do anything for that reason! So, let's trace the Vibram Five Fingers ripple.
Well before we left CT in 2009, Rick had seen an article for these shoes.  He looked them up on-line and liked what he saw, style-wise but especially foot-function-wise. There were very few places carrying Vibrams at that time, and there was only one style. In a continuing education class at CCMT, Rick had a student named Bob, who eventually became a colleague and friend. On a trip to Boston, Bob found and purchased a pair of Vibrams. When Bob showed them to Rick, Rick was even more sure that these shoes were perfect for him, and for proper foot function in almost anyone.
In our very early days in Texas, when EVERYTHING was up in the air, Rick was Googling and looked up Texas locations for Vibrams. Luke's Locker, a specialty running store, came up.
As we became settled and Rick was hired to teach at Parker University School of Massage Therapy, he needed something else to do while on semester breaks.  He had been thinking about Luke's Locker, not only for getting a pair of Five Fingers, but maybe as a place to work.  He applied on-line for a part-time retail shoe position. In a few days, Rick received a call from Patton Gleason, the store manager. Patton left a message, wanting to schedule an interview.
I remember Rick telling me about his first impression of Patton. He described Patton as genuine and down-to-earth. Their talk covered many subjects, one of them a book called Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. Patton suggested Rick read it. Rick and I both have read it, and it truly is a life-changing book, whether you run or not.
After a few more meetings, Rick began working at Luke's. His gifts with people were in evidence each day that he worked there. He helped his customers with everything from shoe fitting and gait analysis to actual massage work to improve their running success. He became known as the Vibram specialist, and would look to recommend a minimal-support shoe to his customers, knowing what he does about how the human foot is made. His special relationship with Patton grew. As Rick had said to me after his first meeting with Patton, they met for a reason. Patton would, in all seriousness and with complete respect, greet Rick with Namaste', his palms together over his heart and bowing low. I think it's no stretch to say that Rick and Patton have each been an important piece of the other's growth and success.
Late last year, Patton left Luke's Locker. Before he left, he told Rick that he felt like they'd known each other in another life, and that they were kindred spirits. Rick felt the same way and was moved by Patton's words. I predicted that they were not yet done working with one another. Quite recently, Rick left Luke's as well.
Rick is now teaching and working with clients. His blog at engagingmuscles.com is full of art and knowledge, spreading the truth about human function. As his editor and biggest fan, I admit a spousal bias, but I learn something every time I read his posts. As for Patton, he has opened an on-line running shoe store that has literally taken off running! You can check out his minimal shoes, educational information, and plain old entertainment at naturalrunningstore.com. Pretty good music too.
So from a goofy-looking shoe, we ripple forward through years and miles and experiences to a friendship based on thinking outside the box, exploring the entrepreneur within, customer service, honesty, integrity and passion. That's a remarkably rewarding ripple.
Grab your Five Fingers (or go barefoot!) and go feel the Earth beneath your feet.  While you do, reflect on those you love, and the ripples that brought them into your life. Your ten little piggies, and your grateful heart, will love you for it.

An Adventure of Their Own, Part II

...continued...

The situation at our friend's house grew more and more difficult.  Their daughter Stacy and her boys virtually ran for their lives.  Restraining orders were put into place, divorce proceedings began, counseling sessions all around.  Very slowly, healing began.  Whenever Rick and I would contact Jane and Steve to update them on our news, we'd hold our breath as we heard the latest developments with their family. We were scared for them.  And there was nothing we could do but be supportive from afar.  The one thing we heard over and over from Jane was that Rick and I had helped her and Steve as much as they'd helped us.  We'd been the recipients of a ripple, starting with their generosity, that we bounced right back to them, when they most needed it and least expected it.
Seems like our presence in their home for a few weeks that winter had put them on the right track.  They told us that the friendship we shared with them encouraged them.  Jane said that we somehow gave them some calm and some peace when we were their guests. I don't know that we did that on purpose, but the relationship that Rick and I share often rubs off on people that way.  I do know that we had many long conversations over dinner and wine (or Steve's beer). We all shared parts of our histories, our hopes, plans and dreams. To use that trite phrase, we bonded.  And somehow, that invincible feeling of hope that Rick and I were feeling rubbed off onto Jane and Steve.  So when the going got tough, and then progressively tougher, they stayed strong, for themselves and for their family.
As things continued to see-saw up and down with Stacy and her boys, a healing rhythm was building in Jane and Steve's home.  Stacy reclaimed herself.  The boys struggled with confusion regarding their father but had deep love and support from their Mom and their grandparents. Rick and I got updates that became gradually more positive and encouraging, along with photos of the boys, now growing into young men. As one by one the hurdles in the way of the family's happiness were knocked down, a plan for a vacation was formulated.  There would be a trip to Arizona, to visit Jane and Steve's son and daughter-in-law.  There would also be a visit to the Grand Canyon.
By all accounts, the trip was a great success.  The boys loved it, the family was all together for the first time in a very long while. Coincidentally, on the return flight to Connecticut, there would be a layover at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport.  Rick and I drove to meet them for a little while between their flights.
It was so great to see them all together!  They were tired but happy.  We could see and feel the happiness and peace on all their faces.  And the thing that made it so incredible...they had decided that by the same time the following year, the whole bunch of them would move to Arizona, for good.  It was time for their adventure; time for our friends to realize their dreams like Rick and I had.  It was their time to head west.
Over this last year, more roadblocks popped up in the way of their dreams, but each and every time, they met the challenges head-on and kept focused on the future. Finally, in mid-June, when the boys had finished the school year, they were off! Their POD was picked up, their cars too, and the 5 of them flew out of Connecticut, toward their new home, their new life. Just like Rick and I had, they had chosen a 'do-over'. The ripple that began when Jane and Steve welcomed us into their home, into their lives, had echoed back over them.  The sense of infinite possibility that Rick and I felt, still feel, now bathed our good friends. Their adventure has begun.

19? Already?

Nineteen years ago this morning, I had my second child.  When her Dad and I woke early that morning to get to my planned c-section, we had no idea what the sex of our child would be.  However, we met in the kitchen at 4:30 a.m. both wearing pink shirts.  Should've known right then!
Natalie arrived doing what she does to this day; she amazed and amused us from minute one.  We were expecting this giant baby, since her brother was so big and since I was so big.  But no; itty-bitty, petite red-headed Natalie Kate arrived.  Her tiny bottom fit in her Dad's palm and there she sat for a bit while I underwent the necessary repairs. I had been a little worried that I wouldn't be as capable with a daughter as with a son; something which has to a good degree proven to be true; but I was immediately and thoroughly proud and pleased to have a daughter.
I fully admit that I was Cocky Mom. I thought, "I've got this, I've got a ton of experience." Not so much.  The Ripple of Natalie, perhaps the Ripple of All Ripples, had begun.
It's well-known that having children changes your life.  You have this amazing responsibility that you willingly take on when you decide to become a parent.  You think of all the things you will and should do for the good of this new life, from car seats and diapers to preschool and Brownies to make-up and dating to driving and voting. You're creating and molding a future citizen of The United States, for Pete's sake! And somewhere, lost in the busy-ness of raising your child, it's easy to forget that THEY will change YOU.
As pre-parents, we all say, "I would never do that!" or "I will never make my child do what my Mom made me do!" And we usually have some measure of success.  But ultimately, we are on our own.  Baby 'experts' can tell us what may happen in 8 out of 10 kids, but truly, we are making our own rules and doing what we can to get by.
As new parents, we start off slow, just trying to keep our heads above water til the feeding/diapering/sleeping stuff is all ironed out.  Then we encourage our children to grow up quick, and just like us. Here's where we all learn a big ol' lesson in "Not So Fast, Cocky Parent".
Natalie Kate, the Ripple, changed me in big ways.  What I thought was important was so not.  I considered it important that her clothes matched.  She considered choosing her wardrobe and getting dressed on her own much more important. She pushed me to the point of yelling so many times that I ripped something in my vocal cords!  You know how I'm not a 'yeller'? You can thank the Ripple of Natalie Kate. Natalie gave me new eyes in which to see the world.  Perhaps better said is that she opened my eyes to see things in new ways. Not everything needed to go my way, the 'parent's' way.  I learned how to try things that other people liked or suggested. I learned that I wasn't supposed to be nurturing a mini-Pam, but a fully individual Natalie Kate.
Natalie's gift to me, the ripple she began by showing up on planet Earth, was to see that it's ok to relinquish control sometimes. In parenting like my amazing Mom did, I thought I had all the answers.  But those were my Mom's answers, the ones that grew 7 children into fine adults. I had to find my own answers, and I'm still learning them from Natalie Kate. In some ways you could say that she began the Ripple.  I like myself pretty well, and she has been testing me and teaching me and improving me for 19 years now.  I love her dearly and hope to never stop learning.
I wish for my daughter the same things that I wrote in her baby book 19 years ago...peace, love, health, happiness, acceptance, success. I have nothing but pride, gratitude and love for my amazing, amusing, beautiful and brilliant Ginger Girl.
Happy Birthday, Ripple Starter! I can't wait to see what other ripples you send into the world. I love you!
Love, Mom

An Adventure of Their Own, Part I

In my upcoming, as-yet-untitled memoir of our journey west, I share many stories of people who helped us along the way.  Rick and I have been blessed to know some friends who fully believed in us, who backed us up, and who wanted to have a part in our success.  Many people we knew scratched their heads when they heard of our planned move to Texas, but this other group of people were truly in our corner and were even willing to personally sacrifice in order to give us a solid send-off. Without the positive ripples put into motion by these cheerleaders, our journey would've been virtually impossible.  In this post, I'll be introducing you to Jane and Steve.
Jane was a student in Rick's Kinesiology class.  As quite often happens when Rick gets Kines students in front of him, a whole new thought-process was born in Jane.  She wanted to learn more, to know more.  When Jane had graduated from massage school, she and Rick began to meet for coffee and discuss massage, kinesiology and personal training. When Rick taught weekend workshops, Jane attended as many as she could, eventually becoming Rick's assistant. Their mutual respect and friendship grew.
Jane's husband Steve is a bright even-tempered man.  Peaceful and somewhat reserved, he would quietly listen to a conversation and then drop a brilliant bombshell observation into it.  He was enjoying his retirement; exploring the internet, new music and brewing homemade beer. The kind of guy you just want to hug.
Not many people knew of our plans to move to Texas, but Jane was one of them.  She had made it clear on many occasions that we would be welcome to stay with her and Steve during our transition process.  We had 2 long house/dog-sitting gigs booked, but would need small stretches of hospitality during those few months.  Jane and Steve were one of those hospitable couples.
When the time came for us to move in at their house, we were welcomed with open arms.  I'd spoken with Jane briefly on several occasions, but had only met Steve once. They immediately made Rick and me feel right at home.  They showed us to the guest room where we unloaded all our stuff.  Jane had even cleared fridge and cabinet space for our food. It was like a big kid sleep over!  What a warm and cozy place to have landed.  We were very comfortable and grateful. As it turns out, Jane and Steve would come to be grateful to us as well.
The four of us settled into a routine...deciding who would provide/prepare dinner, sharing household chores, giving each other massage, and enjoying each other's company.  The transition period Rick and I were in was emotional for sure, but as we shared each development with Jane and Steve, their excitement grew along with ours. They began to share with us their dreams for the future as well.  Steve was positive that he wanted to spend his retirement in Arizona.  I guess we weren't the only ones with Western visions.
Jane and Steve hosted us through 2 stays at their home. But as things were coming down to the wire with us, there were some changes in store for them as well.  Their grown daughter was in a bad marriage.  She and her twin sons would be moving in with Jane and Steve. Their very safety was at stake.  For two people in or around their 60's, this was tough, but they'd of course have it no other way.  As we headed off to our future in Texas, Jane and Steve's future plans suddenly looked much different.

Stay Tuned for An Adventure of Their Own, Part II, coming soon!

Paying it Forward

I wasn't intending to post again so soon, but a beautiful thing happened when I went to the grocery store today that surely represents how the ripple goes.
I have been in the house for several days with a pretty serious toothache. Kinda heavily medicated, thus no driving. It's been manageable though, since my brain seems to be in creative overload mode!  Let's just say I've accomplished a lot; results of which y'all will get to see in the coming months.
At any rate, Rick needed a few things and asked if I'd like to go along for the ride. Bella and I said "Yes please!" and we headed off.  We needed to stop at Kroger of all places. Not the happiest destination on a pain-free day! Rick stayed in the car with Bella and I went in to return something.
While I was waiting at the customer service desk to make my exchange, I overheard the manager talking with a customer.  She was telling him that she would try and run through his purchase manually since the computer wasn't doing it properly. She went around the back of the courtesy desk.
The man was younger than me, very tall, with beautiful sleeves of tattoo work on each arm. He looked exhausted.  He was pushing one of those shopping carts that look like a race car.  Inside were two obviously unhappy little boys.  Grumpy, sad or sick I do not know but certainly not any more thrilled to be in Kroger than I was. As he waited and the manager worked on his purchase, it became clear that it was his food stamp card that would not go through.  Apparently the system the card is tied to was down.  The man had only two small bags of groceries.  The manager said, "I am so sorry but it won't go through. Do you want me to hold them and you can come back?"  He said he'd come back and headed out the door. I felt so badly for him.
Just then, a woman in line behind me spoke up.  She said to the manager, "Here, let me take care of that for him." Oh, my heart!
The man overheard and said that he appreciated it but no thank you and that he'd come back later on. He went out the door.  The woman insisted to the manager that she wanted to do it.  "We've all been there, haven't we?" she said.  The manager ran out the door with the bags and came back shortly.  The manager said to the woman, "That was very nice of you." I turned to the woman and said the same. When the manager went around behind the desk, the woman asked her how much it was. The manager answered, "$4.05."  
Four dollars and five cents was all it took for that woman to spread a vibrant lacy network of ripples all around her. She helped that man's day get a lot easier. Helped those sad little boys get home sooner. Made every person who overheard the chain of events feel a lot better about the world. Showed me the reason I ended up at Kroger today.
She paid it forward.
We have all been there, right? I know that I have been on the receiving end of such generosity. I remember a similar experience when I was little and at the store with my Mom and all my brothers and sisters.  I have never been a wealthy chick, but if I have a few dollars and someone needs them, I think back to the times I've received help like that, little or big, and I give what I can.  Paying it forward is one of the easiest ways to send forth ripples of care and love into the world of another.

Freedom

Independence Day has just passed us by. America is 235 years old, which is a little bit scary since I remember vividly the matching patriotic bikinis my 4 sisters and I wore in 1976, when the country was just 200!  I don't know about you, but as I grow up, I think of it more in it's intended terms, rather than hot dogs, fireworks and mattress sales.
The word freedom is important on a daily, small-scale basis. I am free to decide today whether I want to sew or write or vacuum.  I can take a walk or take a ride or take a nap. No one is telling me that I can't. I remember when my son Tim got his driver's license.  I asked him what it felt like.  His one word reply? "Freedom".
Since Rick and I moved to Texas, the concept of freedom, as an American citizen, has resonated with me in much more powerful ways. I imagine it's that 'pack up your wagon and head west, young lady' idea.  I know that I've felt the power of my ability to choose, not only where I'd like to live, but what I'd like to do and what I'd like to talk about. It is extremely easy to take these rights for granted, isn't it? For some reason though, I have been more mindful and grateful for these privileges since we came to Texas.
Maybe because I have a friend from India.  She has been here for 10 years on a work visa working as an architect.  She retains and has taught me much of her birth culture.  She is a gifted and brilliant woman of many talents...she's an artist, a writer, a photographer, a Reiki healer, a lover of yoga, massage and all things spiritual and holistic.  She is worldly and well-spoken.  She speaks often of what will happen in the coming months, when her work visa, which restricts her to earning money only from her profession (architecture) and not her art, expires. She will need to leave a country that she has grown in, grown to love.  She will need to leave behind her sister, now an American citizen, not to mention many friends, peers and colleagues.  She has experienced many of the freedoms America stands for, but has also learned of the limitations placed upon her because she is from another country.  I know that I will miss her! I also know that when I think of my freedom, I somehow keep coming back to her. Continued blessings, my friend, wherever the wind takes you.
Freedom also makes me think of bravery. Sometimes you're born into a situation, or you blindly follow the leaders before you, and for some people, that's enough.  In America, when it's not enough, and if you're brave enough, you have the freedom to choose.  You can stand up and say, "This is not right for me and it's time to choose something better, something healthier, something smarter."  When you look at the ripples that afforded you this thought process, you can trace them back to the men and women who founded and fought for this country. There were those who just thought, "Of course the King of England is in charge of us and we'll never waver in our loyalty!" But then, a growing number of people decided they were not willing to be sheep, not at all willing to be 'herded' or reigned over.  They had the bravery to fight for their, and consequently our, freedom. Simply looking at the way wars were fought then, lines of men with muskets and bayonets walking directly toward one another, toward almost certain suicide, shows the guts it took to form America. 
I consider myself lucky to have been born an American.  Our country may not be perfect; let's face it, what really is? But I know that the actions of our forefathers, the ripples they began, resulted in the freedoms, both small and large, we so value and cherish today.

The Elephant and the Protester

Once upon a time, there was an elephant named Joe.  He belonged to the traveling circus. He loved the life of a performer.  He danced and tossed a big ball back and forth.  He even stood up on a large drum, on only one foot! He loved to show off for the people of all ages that came to see the circus.
Joe had grown up in a hot, faraway land.  He didn't remember much of his life there except for his mother, who was the kindest and gentlest elephant.  She took great care of him and loved him, until the day when the big men with guns came and knocked her down.  She never got up again.
Some other, nicer men came and took him on a boat to America, where they brought him to join the circus. His trainer gave him food, changed his hay and taught him all kinds of new tricks as he grew up to be a big strong elephant. He had a gorgeous wardrobe.  Everyone patted him on his giant head and gave him treats. He was proud of his job.  He loved his circus life very much.
One day, when the circus came to a new city, Joe saw from the window of his trailer that there were people standing on the sidewalk, people who were carrying signs and yelling very loudly.  They didn't look happy like most people visiting the circus, they looked angry! Later when he asked his trainer what the people were mad about, his trainer said the people were called 'protesters' and they were angry because they thought the animals should be free, not part of the circus. Joe was shocked.
He could not believe what he had heard!  He loved the circus!  He had everything he needed there! Not only did he have food, water and shelter, he was quite fulfilled in his work as a circus elephant! Why would people say that he and the other animals should be taken out of the circus?  What would they do?  Where would they live?  Joe went to sleep that evening scared and worried.
The next day, Joe was in the lot outside the circus tent.  He had practiced that morning, and now was enjoying his hay.  Suddenly he heard yelling. He saw the protesters again!  They were right near his training ring.  He walked over to them and asked them why they were so angry.
The group of people was shocked that an elephant had spoken to them! One person finally recovered enough to tell Joe what they were angry about. She told him that it was unfair that he was locked and chained up in the circus...that he was no more than a prisoner, a slave. He wasn't treated well and he was forced to perform tricks for audiences all over the country.  He had terrible food, not enough water and mean trainers. She told him that they were all there today, fighting for Joe's rights. Expecting Joe to gratefully bow on one knee with happiness, the protester was stunned when Joe spoke again.
Joe asked her where she had gotten all this information. She told him that it was common knowledge that circus animals were treated inhumanely. She showed him a pamphlet with a horrible photo of a sad, old elephant with sores on his toes and rips in his ears. She told him not to worry though, that they were here to fight for him.
Calmly and clearly, Joe told the protester that, in this case, she was wrong. There may be other elephants in other circuses that are suffering, but not here, not him. He told her what every animal in this circus knew, that he loved his job and his life here.  He patiently explained how well he was treated, and what joy it gave him to see such happiness on the faces of circus visitors. He said that he was never chained, never whipped or mistreated, and he had apples and carrots any old time he wanted. As the protester's anger faded, as she listened to Joe and his side of the story, he added one more thing...the moral of this story.

"We don't see the world as it is, we see it as we are."

Joe went on. "Just because you can't imagine being in a certain place or circumstance, doesn't mean it's not a fantastic situation for someone else. I had a great childhood until my mother died.  I was afraid but it turned out just as it should.  I was brought to the circus and I have loved it from the very beginning.  It's my home.  It's my livelihood.  It's my passion.  I can't imagine being anywhere else.  Not to mention, who's going to hire a middle-aged elephant with limited job skills? Your concern is admirable, but please stop being angry for me.    I'm very happy here! Come see the performance tonight and see for yourself!"
The protester listened to him carefully. She smiled. She offered her hand for him to shake and he offered his long bristly trunk. They shook 'hands' in understanding.  The protester spoke briefly to her group and they headed away from the circus tent.  Joe, knowing he had taught, and learned, a valuable lesson today, went back to his afternoon snack in peace.  The protesters never came back again and everyone lived happily ever after.
The Ripple?  Ah, yes, The Ripple.  All it takes for a ripple of misunderstanding to begin is one party trumpeting their message without checking out the facts first.  In other words, the protester and her posse proceeded with poor particulars, purporting to protect the pachyderms. In fact, their ignorance of what was really true in Joe's world started a ripple of anger and confusion that filtered down to a ripple of fear for Joe and his friends. On the other hand, what a beautiful ripple was created when The Elephant helped The Protester see his world, his way, through her eyes!  So much more lovely than the first.
Try to see what you see from the eyes of another.  The ripples you start, and stop, will amaze you.

Guest Blogger!

Dear Millie,

It has been over a week since I saw you for the last time.  When my lady took me out to pee, I was so happy to see you!  I'm sorry that I got so excited...you know I have that tendency to jump all over you, tangle up our leashes and squish you a little bit. But you are so tiny!  I can't help it that I've been growing so much.  And also my people are pretty calm.  I mean there's the occasional apartment tennis game or when my people clap their hands and I run the combine through the living room, but other than that, it gets kinda boring and I get excited to see another of my own species.  You know what I mean right?
How do you like living in San Antonio?  Too bad you have the Spurs and we have the Mavericks.  Do you still use the little crate I gave you or do you have a lot of room to run around in the country now?  I don't think I have ever been to San Antonio but I know for a fact that I love to run around.  I hope you meet some other cool dogs at your new home. Maybe a big strapping Mastiff! Or, maybe not.
Did you see that new leash I was wearing? My man got it for me. Honestly Millie, tell me what you think!  When he brought it home, my lady laughed!  Did you think it was silly?  I am growing up after all.  Should I have a leash that has a string of faux hot dogs on it?  With all the "Weiner" jokes on the internet from that dumb politics man, I don't know if I should be making such a statement, you know?  My man thinks it's funny, I know it.  He told my lady it distracts me from chewing on my leash, which, as you know, is virtually impossible. I guess it's not too bad though.  The Fake Franks give me something to nibble on while my man gets his shoes on. That can take awhile!  He won't let me chew those for sure.  He talks about 'vibrams' and 'barefeet' all the time, whatever that means.  But with the landmines other people's dogs leave behind at our apartment, he needs some kind of shoes, right?  Not that you or I ever left any messes around! LOL!
My lady came home the other day with shopping bags.  She NEVER goes shopping!  My man brings me things most of the time.  So I didn't get my hopes up but suddenly there was a familiar squeak!  She bought me a soft squeaker toy!  It was (yes, was...I have already very effectively destroyed it!) a small brown animal that looked like a cross between a dog and a porcupine.  VERY tasty and such a gratifying noise! White fluffy stuffing everywhere!! LOVED it!  Not only that though, she finally bought me REAL bowls for my food and water.  I mean, what? I've been here for like 8 months!  Don't you think it was about time for that?  Using the green people bowls they use for their weird food was a little humiliating.  Be thankful you never had to see that.  But the new bowls are gorgeous!  Light blue and brown, ceramic, big enough for my jowly snout! When my lady put them down on the floor I went right over to check them out. What a surprise I got when I saw that there was a biscuit at the bottom of the water bowl!  Ooooh, it looked so good, but Millie, I tell you, I almost drowned trying to get to that bone!  My man and lady laughed and laughed until I realized the joke was on me...the bone is part of the bowl!  Embarrassing!  I did get some satisfaction from the fact that I made an enormous puddle on the kitchen floor that my lady had to mop up.  With MY yellow towel.  Oh, well I guess it's the thought that counts.
Well, I'd better get going. I have a lot going on today...I see that I have some fuzz still left on one of my tennis balls, gotta get to that.  Then I have an important date with the cool tile floor in the kitchen. It's been over over 100 degrees for days here; I can only imagine how hot it is in San Antonio!  And after I spend awhile looking out the window at the parking lot, I think I'm going to get a Kong filled with almond butter and cookies.  No, Millie, of course not the people kind, she only makes those for people!  I have my own.
I miss you already!  Try hard not to make a mess in the living room like that last time I saw you!  Oh, boy was your lady mad!

Chow!  Haha!

Love, Bella Merriam

PS  Here is a recent picture of me destroying a squeaky chicken. With the dumb faces they put on these toys, who wouldn't want to chew them off?! BTW,  those green bones my people get me are really keeping my teeth white aren't they?

PPS.  One thing you can be grateful for...since you moved you don't have to deal with that Basset Hound in the next building...she is not very friendly! And with how looooong it takes her to go around a corner, you think she'd be a little more humble!