Lessons From The Creek

The Best of All Possible Worlds

2012-01-07T19:20:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year, Everyone!

Relax. No resolution suggestions will be shared here. I am a Resolution Free Zone. I just don’t make them. And I've come to accept that I cannot convert everyone to my way of thinking. Make your New Year resolutions. And have fun.

And if you still have some inspiration left over from the new leaf we all turned when January 1 came around the bend, here are some ideas that are not really resolutions at all. Take only one, or one a day, or one a week, or one a month, or create your own. It’s your choice. The question is:

What can I do or who can I become, this year, that will help make this the best of all possible worlds?

101 Suggestions:

Be happy
Love openly
Plant something
Meditate
Talk about the things you love
Pass on conversations about the things you dislike
Pamper someone you know
Pamper a stranger
Turn off the TV
Turn off the computer
Reuse more and dispose of fewer things
Use freecycle
Give away some books
Give away some clothes
Give away some food
Give away some time and energy
Play in nature
Support something you know is right
Stop supporting something you know is wrong
Help change something bigger than you
Think before you buy
Share an insight
Share this list
Make more of the things you use and eat
Take a nap
Take your time
Take a trip
Take the train
Support another’s dream
Add a splash of color
Laugh
Help an acre, or a few thousand acres, of earth be free and wild again
Help a person, or a few thousand people, be independent again
Help a needy animal, or a few thousand animals, be safe
Give of yourself
Gift to yourself
Downsize your home
Become curious
Stop tolerating junk mail
Learn something
Then become good
Then become a master
Then teach it
Then break the rules
Speak up
Write about something important to you
Thank everyone
Become patient with someone
Become patient with yourself
Smile at friends
Smile at yourself
Smile at strangers
Follow your heart
Give your heart
Make something for someone
Create some wacky solutions to your dilemmas
Allow others to do as they please
Ask for a better reason than “Everybody’s doing it.”
Clear your clutter
Use the things you love
Fix that which needs fixing
Create some freedom in your day, week, year
Create some freedom for someone else
Understand that which you fear
Be silent
Become conscious
Bake something for someone
Aspire to the TED Prize
Climb to the top of something
Climb to the bottom of something
Take naps
Move naturally
Live and work in a walkable community
De-convenience your home
Meditate
Share a meal
Create your own Blue Zone
Focus on what's important for YOU each day and let your legacy take care of itself
Learn a language
Send a stranger some silent love
Visit someone you know and admire whom you've never met in person
Write a letter or appreciation to your favorite author
Write a letter or appreciation to a politician who has supported something important to you
Write a letter of appreciation to yourself
Write a letter of appreciation to someone who has supported you
Write a letter of appreciation to a stranger
Grow something
Raise something
Notice the amount of disposable plastic you buy
Throw a party
Know what's in the food you eat
Be aware of your food miles
Kiss the ones you love
Kiss the cat
Kiss the dog
Kiss a fish
Kiss a stranger
Take a risk
Take a break
Call your Dad and by all means...
101. Call your Mom!

"I don't like that man. I must get to know him better." ~Abraham Lincoln

"If we cannot now end our differences, at least we can make the world safe for diversity." ~John F. Kennedy

"The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." ~Albert Einstein

The List Coaching
If you find value in this list and would like to experience some group coaching around this list and additional items we come up with as a group, zip me an email or give me a call at 231-879-4178.

I would be happy to provide 9 sessions (55 minutes each) of group coaching via teleconference for only $150 per person. Calls will be recorded should you miss one.

We will explore in depth many of the items on this list, create some of our own, and support every person in the group to create their personalized list and focus for 2012. If 2012 is the year you want to help make this the best of all possible worlds, consider joining us.

I need a minimum of 5 participants and a maximum of 15. Days and times will be determined once we have our group.

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-29T11:19:00.001-04:00

When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween.
~Author Unknown

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~George Carlin

Backward, turn backward,
O Time, in your flight
make me a child again
just for to-night!
~Elizabeth Akers Allen

May Jack-o-lanterns burning bright
Of soft and golden hue
Pierce through the future’s veil and show
What fate now holds for you.
~Author Unknown

Eat, Drink and be Scary.

Love, Deb

Keeping The Campfires Burning

2011-10-20T16:11:00.000-04:00

At the top of my love list of all things Fall are warm campfires, an illuminating centerpiece for all my backyard gatherings. At the end of a cold and damp day, whether cutting firewood or playing with my hunting and fishing friends, I gravitate to the fire with the enthusiasm of old dog in need of comforting warmth. No amount of clothing, no matter how adequate and appropriate for this season, can compete with the radiating heat of my campfire. On crisp evenings, I hold my feet in front of the flames, the warmth spreading up to my glowing face. Once my jaw is adequately lubricated by an appropriate amount of both drink and campfire heat, I find my words coming effortlessly, maybe too much so. So, I rotate and turn my back to the fire, enjoying the inhale of brisk air and the immediate silence that comes with facing the darkness and a brilliantly star-lit sky.

For me, campfires are:

Peace: As I start to warm from the outside in, I feel a sense of peace. I slow down. I breathe deeply. My campfire is a place to just be.

Great Conversations: When I have the pleasure of sharing a warm campfire with friends, and sometimes even strangers, the conversations always seem a little more provocative, open, entertaining and free.

Stories: Oh, yes, the conversations are wonderful. And the stories we tell around a campfire are even better. Even the weakest storyteller among us is able to weave a tale worthy of attention while the heat glows on his or her face and only the little ring of fire keeps the dark and the cold at bay.

Reflection: As the firelight and heat reflect off everything in the presence of a campfire, one warms to the opportunity to go inward and reflect about those things most important to us as well as the little things that seemed trivial minutia during the day.

Food: Campfires mean the concoctions never end. Eating begins as soon as the fire is started and can last well into the night. Everything has its own cooking time and while some dishes need a quick hot flame, others do better buried deep in hot coals. This time of year it's spice cider, baked potatoes, wild game, mulled wine, warm garlic bread, a big pot of chili or stew or chowder, spoon bread, bread pudding... no hurry, we have more than 14 hours of darkness this time of year and it's increasing every minute.

Morning Coffee: If I've banked my campfire just right, I've got good hot coals with which to enjoy my morning coffee.

Come on over any time. I'd love to share a fire and hear about what keeps you warm. Bring your flashlight.

"To poke a wood fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world" ~Charles Dudley Warner

"The most tangible of all visible mysteries - Fire." ~Leigh Hunt

"One can enjoy a wood fire worthily only when he warms this thoughts by it as well as his hands and feet." ~Odell Shepard

"Fire is the most tolerable third party." ~Henry David Thoreau

A Fish Tale

2011-08-14T16:12:00.000-04:00

A remote Northern Ontario lake
Alone in the boat
Alone on the lake
I cast
Drat!
My lure hits a beaver!
Splash! Slap!
My line screams out
And out
And out
Do I cut the line?
I hang on
Little line left on my reel
But, wait!
I'm reeling in
I breathe
I reel in
My line screams out
I reel in
I am hopeful...
...to help that beaver
...to recover my lure
...to keep the boat upright
Will I be lucky?
Will this be a disaster?
My line screams out
I reel in
Dare I play this out or cut line?
Do I want that beaver near the boat?
He won't be passive
I ponder inconsiderate acts of fishermen
I'm tired
I reel in
A stiff drink and the warm camp, more than an hour away
I reel in
Big and heavy, under the boat
The water swirls
Can I recover my lure?
Can I rescue that beaver?
Can I save myself?
Wait!
A fish head at the end of my line?
Wait!
A fish tail on the other side of the boat?
Yes!
Drat! No net
Drat! No camera
I release the Northern monster
Drifting back down
Out of sight now
70 feet of water shrouds the giant
An hour back to camp
A warm campfire
A stiff drink
A clear night sky
The wolves are howling
And I feel alive!

"Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after" ~Henry David Thoreau

"I love fishing. You put your line in the water and you don't know what's on the other end. Your imagination is under there." ~Robert Altman

Over The Top

2011-03-27T15:38:00.001-04:00

With March, we have more light. The sun increasingly rises above the tree tops around my home. Critters are sticking their noses out of burrows, dens, holes, brush piles and woodpiles and taking good long sniffs of the air.

Winter is hanging on this year with another 12 inches of snow just last weekend. Yet gone are the dreary days as we celebrate the light that now holds some tints of color and a warmth around midday that makes promises of more to come.

My furry and feathered friends and I are happy. How about you?

There is still a couple of feet of snow around my home. I’m not complaining. We need the moisture.

But since December I have lived by the path. The path, that is, to the compost pile and the woodpile, the bird feeder, the fire pit, and my well-worn path along the creek. The paths have become beautiful as the March wind carves striking lines and shapes in the snow. The banks, and the paths, and the piles have flowing and crisp edges.

The pin oaks are finally giving up the leaves they have held on to all winter. I beg them to drop their leaves in the fall, making cleanup needed only once each year. But they ignore me. My paths are full of leaves. The wind blows them down the paths and they huddle together in the dips and curves as though they were little brown creatures scurrying to get out of my way.

And now comes the fleeting warm ups when the temperatures rise just a little above freezing for short spurts during the day. It’s perfect Maple Syrup weather when moisture locks up tight on cold nights and then flows freely for even just a few hours during midday.

For months now, the way of the path was my limited walking world. But I have become flighty with the new freedom the contrasting warm and cold temperatures have given me on my morning walks. As the snow warms up each day and then freezes hard each night, a crust is created that can support me. If I rise and get out early enough, I’m free to go anywhere I please. Just this month, I've hiked over bushes that would grab at my clothing and snarl me up any other time of year. I've walked on water over the creek. I've run down slopes that, in the summer, have so much dead fall I’d surly break a limb on my way down. And I've walked over the marshes and swamps, knowing there are all kinds of critters underneath my steps waiting for Spring.

What a contrast to my path routine. I’m free, unconfined, and able to move quickly. March is warm sun on my face and cold wind at my back, serious enough to freeze my toes and frivolous enough to encourage me to take myself over the top.

"Spring is when you feel like whistling, even with a shoe full of slush." ~Doug Larson

Give It A Rest

2011-01-24T16:49:00.000-05:00

Once again, January has locked the northland in a deep freeze.

With the cold temperatures, little moves. The creek has numerous ice bridges over it and the little bit of running water moves toward the river like liquid gelatin. In an otherwise silent world, the river itself is full of ice flows, creating an unearthly groaning sound as they bounce off the frozen bank. The chickadees, jays and nuthatches stay busy at my bird feeder, a little more frantic for the food that will sustain them in these cold temperatures. They have become friendlier, grateful I imagine for the unending source of seed I am able to provide. They speak little, too busy eating for warmth than having conversation over a meal. The deer move in each evening for a snack on what’s left of the corn I’ve thrown down for the jays. The squirrels have moved inside their tree-top nests, the partridge and rabbits are buried deep in their snow caves. There is little evidence of night activity beyond a few mice prints on each night’s new snowfall. Life moves minimally. Everything has fallen silent.

And even though we have so little light during these days of January, I too feel the urge to close my eyes and enjoy the peaceful darkness of a nap. While I excel at napping any time of the year, my body seems to be designed for this midwinter type of siesta. In January I take napping to new levels, finding accessories like a down duvet, body pillows, hot water baths or bottles, and intoxicating scents sprayed on these adornments. I am a pro. What Mother Nature doles out at other times of the year, warm sunlight, breezes carrying heady smells, a hot sandy beach or the lapping of waves on the shoreline, I have learned to manufacture in my frozen north.

I’ve been good at napping all my life. Falling asleep during required nap time was embarrassing when I was in kindergarten and Brownies. I had no problem closing my eyes and drifting off. But then I’d wake with all my mates staring and giggling at the spittle running down my chin, my damp mat-crushed hair, and one wrinkled and red cheek that had previously been plastered to my sleeping surface, usually a rug. They, of course, had not slept at all and had entertained themselves by watching me. I probably got unmentionable and gross things stuck in my nose, ears and mouth as I blissfully slept on. I’m thankful I’ll never know.

However lately, napping has new respect. Maybe I’m noticing more nap appreciation in others because I’m hanging out with an older, nap-loving crowd. Or perhaps folks of all ages are turning on to the power of a nap. Either way, I no longer get laughed at. I get envied. Those who do not have the time or a place in their day to nap, marvel at my ability to sack out for an hour or so each day. So, with another level of approval, I’ve improved my napping proficiency.

For those of you who want to learn napping, the single most important thing to understand is that napping embraces the often-forgotten talent of doing only one thing at a time and doing that one thing well. When you turn the prestige of being able to multitask on his head and elevate the old way of doing things, single-tasking, the lowly nap not only seems more respectable and even doable, it becomes art. Oh, granted, there are multiple benefits from napping; a sharper mind, better motor coordination, happiness, lower blood pressure, to name a few. But you are not the “doer” of these. You are, by simply taking a break and becoming a master of The Nap, “being,” the recipient of these, nothing more.

And as a reminder, all good things arrive when you’re sleeping; Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and even Spring. Try it.

"Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap." ~Barbara Jordan

Let's Do Better

2010-11-22T11:30:00.000-05:00

I've been away for awhile. I lost my precious pup, Jersey, in October and after 15+ years with her by my side, I felt paralyzed. I've finally managed to write about her on my squidoo lens, Remembering Jersey Girl. Any proceeds from that lens goes directly to the Humane Society.

We are at the tail end of Fall and here in Northern Michigan everything is slowing down. I still manage to sit on the front porch with my morning cup of coffee, watching the stars twinkle out as dawn approaches. But it's quite a bundling I have to do to make that happen. Over my flannel pajamas goes a down vest and then a fleece jacket. A hat on my head, mittens on my hands and wool socks on my feet complete my ensemble. It's not pretty but it works. One cup of hot coffee and I'm ready to come back in. But it's a morning ritual I'm reluctant to give up. Perhaps the chair will stay on the porch all winter this year. We'll see. Come on over. We'll share a cup. On the mornings that the stars are out, it's really quite spectacular.

Now that we are a few weeks away from the mid-term elections here in the U.S. I can't help but scream...Let's Do Better! Every year the election process gets uglier as candidates run less on their political views and more on attempts to scare us. The fearful banter that was floating around earlier this month has not dissipated and I'm talking to more and more people who are worried about their future.

Let's do better...

Let's create some space. Let's make room. Let's create some reserves in our lives. Let's do better at living with less instead of suffering in order to live with what we think we need. If it feels overwhelming to count the number of things we own, we've got too much. The less we want, the less stressed we become.

Let's all be super, super productive for a short period of time and then go play, rather than "putting in our time." Let's create a community of people who are having fun, enjoying life and happy.

Let's refuse to be scared. Let's turn off the TV, turn off the radio, turn off the internet and drastically reduce our time with these distractions. If you don't like what you hear or see in the media, do something about it. Otherwise, listening and watching with no action diminishes us. As someone who makes her living using the internet, I have come to appreciate it immensely. But I've also learned that too much time in front of the TV or on the internet drastically reduces my creativity. While we're at it, let's go paperless.

Let's test our assumptions about everything. Chances are that a lot of what we assume is not true.

Let's choose to do the things that give us pleasure without suffering.

Let's focus on what is important. Once we decide for ourselves what is important and not what the unimportant and negative people in media tell us, we can use our own filter. And that's empowering.

Let's let go of perfectionism. Everything we do is perfect in the moment. We don't have to micromanage our lives or those who want to help.

Let's stop being busy. Let's breathe. Let's create a life that is full of joy and cheer.

Let's make the upcoming holidays truly thankful occasions without the pressure to do it all, buy it all, and make it all while hosting numerous events in order to include everyone.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving everyone!

Love and Hugs
d

Disconnected

2010-07-24T18:00:00.003-04:00

Summer in Northern Michigan is busy. Busier than I like. There are too many people, too many events, the lines are too long, the traffic is too thick and the noises are too loud. In Summer, I crave becoming disconnected.

Being connected is so easy. All we need to do is just call someone up on our cell phone, even while we, ourselves, are on the move. Or, just stop by the neighbors for a visit. Or, just pop into the local grocery and chat with everyone we know or don't know in front or behind us in the checkout line. Perhaps we go to an event where we are surrounded by people we don't know, and still we have the connection of sharing whatever it is we are all there to experience. Daily, most of us just get online and share our life activities with everyone we know on facebook or one of the other social networks to which we belong.

So I go north to fish. And yes, I go north to disconnect. My travels take me far enough that a phone call is impossible without getting in boat and/or a vehicle and traveling at least an hour. I usually have a cabin to myself and make choices about who I will or will not talk with on any particular day; that is, if there is anyone else in camp to talk with. The laptop stays home, unplugged and unused for as much as two weeks at a time. My Jeep, also unused, rests at the furthest point it can go before I must find other transportation. At some camps, I can drive as far as the cabin door, but often the boat launch or the train station is the final resting point for the driving part of my journey north. My cell phone, too, has no need to travel north. Phone, cell and computer access are all "technically" possible if I'm willing to travel at least an hour, but my unwillingness means it's just not going to happen.

I sit on a bench in front of the cabin or on the cabin steps and enjoy "twittering" of a different sort as the Whiskey Jacks are all too happy to see me and share my breakfast, lunch or dinner. At 5:00 a.m., a cow moose wanders on the beach, past camp and I feel no urge to wake others to see the sight. I fall deeply into a novel I picked up at my local library in a rush out of town, no thought to its contents or who the author might be. In the moments of my reading, I am consumed. Now, a few weeks later, I can't tell you the name of the author or the title of the book. I eat breakfast with the rain clattering on the metal roof of the cabin, absorbed in a simple meal, thinking it's the best I've ever had, with no desire to share, to pass the recipe on, or even to make note of what I did so differently when I prepared this simple, familiar fare.

Brainwashed, we often think that everything we do or say is dependent on others listening and reacting. Only when we dare to disconnect, are we able to enjoy the value of our own company. It's oh so very worth it.

In The Stillness

2010-06-06T17:18:00.006-04:00

May has ended and we are entering June. I'm noticing stillness all around me. This is not the stillness of Winter when much becomes dormant, quiet and in hibernation. This is the stillness of Summer when there is a more lazy and centered movement. It's the stillness of contentment.

The woods around my home are greening. The frenetic activity of the critters has slowed. Birds are sitting on their nest now. There is plenty of food on the floor of the woods and in the trees. Breaks are easily taken during the middle of the day when the shadows of the trees around the creek provide a peaceful resting place to absorb the cooler, darker, moister air. There is a new stillness.

The nights are still noisy. The peepers come out around dusk. But their talk is more like neighbors chatting on the front porch than the calls of those looking for a mate. The owl still makes a vocal appearance each night before the morning sun rises. It's a low, slow hoot now. The whippoorwills get vocal every dusk and dawn, but they seem to be talking of the celebration of Summer instead of the need for attraction. And the phoebes have ceased their incessant calling and tapping on my windows.

Even the thunderstorms roll through with low, lazy, long rumbles, taking their time to pass over and soak my world.

The creek has become slow and vague, veiled by the undergrowth and hosting dragon and damselflies on the sand bars that are starting to appear as the water slows after the Spring rush. It simply trickles now over rocks and downed trees, smelling of sun-soaked cedar and warming summer grasses. It has become another creature entirely, as it meanders through the tall grasses and ferns.

Even the mosquitoes seem less interested in biting, giving me fair warning before they pick a spot on my exposed skin.

Sit back, breathe deeply, rest. It's June and such an opportunity to enjoy stillness. Stillness is not necessarily where activity ends. It can be where creation begins. When you become still, you let go of not movement but, instead, control. Stillness can be very dynamic. But it is unconflicted movement in harmony with the actions you take. It is your truth come home to rest, simply letting go of the thoughts that bubble to your surface, allowing them but not controlling such thoughts.

"Within you there is stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself." ~Hermann Hesse

In My Wildest Dreams

2010-04-03T13:28:00.002-04:00

The hard shell of winter is cracking and the luscious gooey center called Spring is oozing out. My nighttime noggin is doing the same with dreams so rich, colorful and vivid that I feel like I've entered a children's book where all the characters are past acquaintances, human and critter, who have come to tell me a story full of metaphors only I can interpret and appreciate.

This happens to me every Spring. It's crazy. My dreams become so wild that anyone reviewing them would insist these events just don't happen in the day-to-day world. And yet, the vividness, the colors and the intricacy of every moment of the dream only serves to prove the dream must be every bit as real as the world I walk in wakefulness.

I wonder how Spring brings this on. I suppose it has something to do with the beginning of new life. Perhaps it's the slow tilt of the Earth's axis back to the Southern Hemisphere and a more luxurious weather pattern that allows for free time and play and less emphasis on survival.

Maybe vivid and extravagant dreaming requires a sense of the stirring of life, seen and unseen, that is all around me.

Perhaps dreams as extravagant as my Spring dreams are prompted by the constant flow of the season.

Whatever the source, I love my Springtime dreams. As bizarre and outrageous as they are, there's a sense of being more connected with everything, including you.

"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night." ~Bill Watterson

Spring!

2010-04-03T13:00:00.002-04:00

It's April. Spring is on the rise, literally, from the ground up. Early morning on the porch with coffee; peepers, pussy willows, phoebes, crocus, sand hill cranes, ... ahhhhh.
Good thing I made a whole pot!

My Jersey celebrated her 15th birthday on April 1. A Noble Dog.

http://www.squidoo.com/WalkingTheDog

River Running

2010-03-03T12:36:00.002-05:00

As usual, along about the end of February, I find myself musing about things to come. I become a little less present as I plunge my thoughts and emotions into the upcoming fishing season. As the snow begins to melt and trickle from seemingly flat surfaces towards the lowlands of increasingly bulging creeks and rivers, I notice the new swiftness and I can't help but feel the urge to do a little river running.

It's the nature of rivers to drop in elevation over distance. That is, of course, how they flow. Some relaxing and beautifully meditative rivers drop consistently with few or no surprises. I love to travel these wonderful rivers because they give me the opportunity to play with friends or trail a fishing line or lean back in my canoe and contemplate something important or nothing at all. This is the nature of most of the rivers I travel in Michigan.

Many of the rivers I travel further north, into the Canadian Shield, are not gradual. These rivers pool and drop and pool and drop, keeping me ever alert. The deep pools of swirling water are where I often find the fish. I love these rivers for their energy. They lift me up and move me forward at sometimes breakneck speeds. The canoe goes forward, up and down, right and left and side to side all at the same time. My paddle becomes a rudder and a brace, slowing and turning me as the conditions demand. My arms hurt. My back is rigid and my butt and legs are an extension of my craft, using body language to direct me. And then it's over too quickly and I'm bobbing on riffles, heading towards calm water where I once again must use my paddle to move forward. Sometimes these rivers even force me to stop and get out of my canoe, wary about a drop I might not be able to navigate.

I don't prefer one type of river over the other. They are both special. It's the variety that is important to me. Moving forward at a steady pace, as in the case of my Michigan rivers, is delightfully energizing in the way a nap rejuvenates me. Moving forward in a chaotic way, shaking things up and amplifying the adrenaline, as in the case of my Canadian rivers, energizes me in the same way a good brawl gets the juices flowing.

It's March and it's time to rumble! See you on the river or on the bank. Your choice. But I'm not waiting.

"All rivers, even the most dazzling, those that catch the sun in their course, all rivers go down to the ocean and drown. And life awaits man as the sea awaits the river." ~Simone Schwarz-Bart

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and the river runs through it." ~Norman Maclean

Moon Shadows

2010-01-30T11:56:00.001-05:00

It's cold, very cold, bone chilling cold.

Early this morning, the light from my porch light rose straight up on the ice crystals in the air.

Last night's almost full moon created brilliant moon shadows on the pristine snow. The two dogs and I fell into step and there were 6 of us whenever we were not in the shadow of a tree or bush.

Tonight's full moon is the Wolf Moon. Named for clarity of the wolf howl on a cold night, traveling on the brittle air much like the light from my porch.

I'm torn between immersing myself in the bright silence and the temptation to let out my own howl.

January Thaw

2010-01-27T13:37:00.009-05:00

This month we had our annual January thaw, so common in the North that it does not need to be explained to anyone who has lived here for at least a year or two. During the thaw, our temperatures, while not exactly fall-like, are much more temperate. Sometimes even, the snow and ice, as the words January thaw imply, melt for an hour or so during midday. Even a string of two or more days, with temperatures only 5 or 10 degrees higher than our usual January fare, is significant cause for celebration. Add some sun, and those of us in the North Country are literally jolly, buoyed by the freedoms that come with the thaw; walking upright instead of bent over in order to watch where we place our feet and protect our face from the blowing snow, driving at the speed limit without worry about an upcoming patch of ice, and moving around the house into areas too cold to visit for more than a minute or two during most of the winter months.

I took a little survey while running errands during this month's thaw. I found no one who could explain to me why the thaw happens, even though we are enveloped in it every January like clockwork. And, there seems to be no guidelines as to how high the temperatures must rise and how long for the January thaw to be official. But frankly, when you're finally walking upright at more than a snail's pace, who cares?

Generally, I learned from those surveyed that a January thaw means temperatures are high enough to create dripping off the roof for at least an hour each day. That the phenomenon lasts at least 3 days but longer is better. And it's a grand year when the thaw is accompanied by the sun. And if we really dare to dream big, the thaw and the sun are best if arrival coordinates with at least one weekend. It does in no way mean we lose all our snow. Some years even, it's agreed, the January thaw is not technically a "thaw" but nearer to high freezing temps.

As I write today, the snow is becoming heavy with moisture, falling off the trees and the banks of the creek, creating new noises for my big black lab to bark and growl at as it splashes into the creek. Lake ice is melting to an inch or two of water on the surface of 12 or more inches of ice. That water will immediately freeze tonight into fine skating rink quality ice. There's a racket in the woods around my home as those who semi-hibernate come out of holes and burrows and dens and piles of snow to see what's up. I welcome the touch of the thaw for the subtle change in my sights, sounds and smells, for the sun on my face, for one less layer of clothing on our walks, and for the smiles and the change of conversation I get during my travels. I welcome it for the breather it gives me before we enter February and very cold temperatures. And I welcome the thaw for its prediction of the certainty of March. I welcome it for its spirit.

My friend David tells me the English word for spirit comes from the Latin spiritus, meaning "breath." He suggest that during this January thaw, the earth around me is engaging in a spiritual pursuit, breathing in and breathing out, expanding and contracting. And that's the gift, isn't it; to pay attention to just the simple things like the planet breathing.

"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each." ~Henry David Thoreau.

Janus

2010-01-26T15:37:00.003-05:00

In Roman mythology, Janus was the god of gates and doors, endings and beginnings. The month of January, the beginning of the New Year, is named for Janus. He is most often depicted as having two faces or heads, facing in opposite directions.

So in this new year, my friends, I hope you are facing your endings with satisfaction and your beginnings with joy!

Adventure and Retreat Leader Teleclass Series Begins Feb 2

2010-01-13T17:20:00.002-05:00

On Tuesday, February 2 Patt Osborne and I begin another Adventure and Retreat teleclass series for coaches and other wellness and helping professionals who want to take it outside!

Whether you want to take your clients to the wilds on a physical adventure or you'd rather sit around a fireplace in the comfort of a nice retreat facility, this teleclass will get you started!

By the end of this series, you will be in a great position to offer retreats and adventures as part of your business.
This 9-session series runs through the end of the year.
All sessions are recorded so if you should miss a call, you have a week to listen in.
Includes two one-on-one coaching sessions.
Details can be found at http://www.portagecoach.com/ARCTraining.html

Get Lost

2009-12-29T14:23:00.003-05:00

My theme for 2009 was Free Fall. And it certainly proved to be true. I've learned more about letting go this year than I could have ever imagined. It was a tangled year, full of twists and turns and steep drops. This year, I've been able to let go more than ever of the things that once gripped me.

My life became cluttered with the sorting of medical paperwork for more than one family member. I've learned more than I care to about the medical mess this country has gotten itself into. And I've learned a little about home insurance in an eleven-month journey to finally enjoying my new front porch, provided by last winter's snows too heavy for the old porch to support. 2009 has been full of the challenges of navigating rules, providing documentation, and finding people who are willing to do what they commit to.

I'm looking forward to the end of my 2009 "Free Fall" as the paperwork flutters behind me. This final letting go will be monumental for me. I can no longer see the importance of things I've been taught must be held with great reverence. An early January bonfire ought to clean up the last of the mess. And that is the Free Fall blessing of 2009.

Now, I'm looking at my 2010 theme and feeling like it's time to "Get Lost!"

I'm ready to be a pioneer, an adventurer, stumbling in to new areas to survey broadly and examine minutely. I want to investigate new waters, explore new wilderness, discover what others may have long ago left behind and, when necessary, make my own crude maps as a way to encourage myself to go deeper.

I will not be a seeker, searcher or one on a quest. I'm not interested in any theme that might carry deep meaning or be a cause in any way. There will be no exploration plan or search for knowledge.

Beating about, kicking around, casting about, putting out feelers, and finding myself up a creek are more my style. All I'm looking for are a few effortless escapades and the simplicity in being lost.

"Explorers have to be ready to die lost." ~Russell Hoban

Winter Solstice Sun

2009-12-27T21:23:00.004-05:00

With the Winter Solstice on December 21st, we in the North Country are immersed in more dark than light. I feel exhilarated when a sunny day comes my way and I don’t have to take all the responsibility for being the bright spot around my home. At the sun’s highest point during each day this time of year, it does not quite rise above my treetops. What I am left with though, is the beauty of sun spilling through the trees, making shining jewels of the snow that filters down through the branches.

I’m looking forward to seeing 2009 blown away on the white winds of change and curious about what 2010 has to offer.

Winter Colors

2009-12-26T15:03:00.004-05:00

For the rest of this winter, I’ve chosen to be colorful. Today I wear my big red shirt over my yellow sweater. When the dogs and I walk, I’ll throw my old and worn yellow and purple scarf around my neck and pop my matching hat on top. I’m bundled up for whatever winter decides to throw my way, with deep pockets, high collars, goose down and long sleeves. I’m a warm display in an increasingly chilly environment and I’m sticking out like a tropical bird in all this winter white.

Memories

2009-10-01T07:39:00.008-04:00

There's a hard frost this morning. As the wind blows through the leaves, I can actually hear them clinking against each other. Soon, when the sun comes up and warms them, many will loose their grip and fall to the ground in a rain of gold and orange and red and brown.

Memories

Cold morning. The steam is rising off the creek, creating ghost-like wisps through the cedars.

I wonder about the seemingly substantial, the things in our lives that feel so solid. And then, just like the steam on the creek, the images of something once very real are gone in an instant with something as minor as the shift of the sun one degree. And I am left wondering if I imagined it. I suppose it does not matter if I imagined something as fleeting as the steam rising off the creek or my entire past. The memories are still rich and they sustain me.

At the time, each experience is wonderful, or painful or peaceful or even magical in that one moment when it is present. And then, in the blink of an eye, it becomes a memory, something in the past to hold on to.

Our memories are ultimately all we are, I suppose. Something so simple, so sweet, so painful, or so inviting is really nothing more than a fleeting moment. But in that moment it also becomes a memory we will hold on to forever.

Sometimes I imagine myself being able to craft my future. If I just do this…If I just say that…If I am able to save a certain amount for later…If I invest in this…If I take time each day to plan...

And yet, when I choose to be still, to put all the plans and plots and good intentions on the back burner to simmer, I’m present enough to really experience the things that will create lasting memories. I don’t have to work for them. I don’t have to create rituals to make them happen. They are just there for me. And as my bank of memories grows, my present becomes more luscious. The past and the present become woven. The future? Well, I’ll just wait for it to become the present and I’ll see what memories unfold from that.

"Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart." ~Thomas Fuller

"Memory is not so brilliant as hope, but it is more beautiful and a thousand times more true." ~George Denison Prentice

Adventure and Retreat Teleclass Series Begins Oct 6

2009-09-30T06:56:00.005-04:00

On Tuesday, October 6 Patt Osborne and I begin another Adventure and Retreat teleclass series for coaches and wellness professionals who want to take it outside!

Whether you want to take your clients to the wilds on a physical adventure or you'd rather sit around a fireplace in the comfort of a nice retreat facility, this teleclass will get you started!

By the end of this series, you will be in a great position to offer retreats and adventures as part of your business.
This 9-session series runs through the end of the year.
All sessions are recorded so if you should miss a call, you have a week to listen in.
Includes two one-on-one coaching sessions.
Details can be found at http://www.portagecoach.com/ARCTraining.html

In The Eddy

2009-09-04T13:57:00.010-04:00

With August, we finally got summer. It was brief. Now, with the onset of September, I'm seeing more of the golden flowers that mark the end of summer. Around my home, there's a burst of Black-eyed Susan and Goldenrod. And today is the day of the Corn Moon, the full moon in September that in older times marked the time to harvest the corn.

As I fall deeper and deeper into the acknowledgment that summer is waning, I seek with eagerness the solace of a September that will embrace me with a sense of home; that is, that deep and unconditional welcome that rarely comes from any other source but going home. Home does not have to be literal in the sense that it is the house, the dwelling, the town in which one lives or grew up. Home can be, and more often is for me, falling into the embrace of nature, especially during this time of year. There seems to be nothing more motherly, more welcoming, more at home, than nature's autumn embrace in the North Country. I'm antsy to see what has occurred locked away in the woods around my home when the summer's heat and biting insects kept me from exploring more deeply.

In The Eddy

I'm in the eddy. I've taken a break. I've swung out of the current, pointed myself upstream behind a boulder or a fallen log, and allowed myself to breathe. I've become quiet so I can hear the world turning and get my directions.

For those of you who don't paddle, an eddy is the downstream side of an obstruction in the river. It's a place in the river, because of that obstruction like a log or a boulder, where the water is moving more slowly and in a different direction, in a circular flow as the water backfills into the pocket created behind the obstruction. Eddies are most useful to paddlers as a place to rest, read the river, and make decisions about the next move up or down the river. Paddling from eddy to eddy, slipping into an eddy for a break, gives you the opportunity to assess your next move. Often, when running rapids, I enter and exit a series of eddies as a way to pause and pick my path. The key is in the timing.

With autumn nipping at my heals, the timing is just right. I'm in an eddy of my life as well as a more seasonal eddy. September and I have swung out of the current, taking a break, assessing our next moves. Breathing.

Come on in, the water is just fine.

Cut It Out!

2009-07-25T17:36:00.006-04:00

This July, in fact this summer, has presented us with weather I associate with Northern Michigan and Ontario at its best. Daytime temps have been mostly in the upper 60's to upper 70. Evenings and nights bring perfect sleeping temperatures of mid-40's to mid-50's. I've been able to be active instead of sluggish during the day and sleep well each night. BIG, BIG Thanks!
While family obligations keep me closer to home than I would like, I've been able to escape twice this summer on fishing adventures. And to add to the great summer temperatures, this has been a notable fishing year. The catches have been more plentiful and bigger than I've seen in several years.
Cut It Out!

Even though my life is really very simple, I've been thinking again about simplifying, oh, just a little bit more. Yes, AGAIN! I have no debt. I coach through the 3rd Wednesday of each month and then I play through the 4th and occasional 5th week of each month. I live in the woods, where I'm up early enjoying a cup of coffee in the backyard while listening to the creek and the neighbors, all four-legged except the birds. My exercise routine is on my living room floor and the trails through the woods around my home, not at a gym. I eat simply, enjoying what I harvest as much as possible. If you were to invade my freezer right now, you'd find wild huckleberries, moose, wild raspberries, walleye, northern pike, morel mushrooms, chives, rhubarb, jumbo perch, caribou, lake trout, and venison. When I head out on holiday, I leave phone and computer behind. In fact, I leave electricity behind. In fact, I often leave the car behind, in exchange for boat or canoe.

In my 20’s everything I owned was harvested from the earth or the lakes and streams, uncovered at the Goodwill store, a yard sale, or my Mother's basement. In my 30’s or 40’s, I had the money and the urge to collect my own, brand new stuff. In my early 50’s all that stuff, especially the “brand new” stuff, started to wear out and I had no desire to replace it. Now, as I move in to the last half of my 50’s, it intrigues me that just a short time ago I saw every item and activity I'm about to oust as a necessity.

I've learned that the art of simplifying has two steps.

First, we must pitch those things that no longer serve us. It may be an item in our home, it may be an activity we do for shallow reasons, or it could even be a person in our life who at the worst drains us and at the best takes up our time. I will not tell you this is always easy. I will tell you that you already know what needs to go. Admit it.

Next, we must take what's left, those things that we love and enrich our life, and make them less complex. This is the fun part for me. I enjoy taking something important and meaningful to me, analyze it in order to understand the elements that really energize me, and then cut out all the fluff.

“Your Lifestyle should enhance your life, rather than spending your life enhancing your lifestyle.” ~Coach Thomas Leonard

Plows and Chocolate

2009-05-16T21:48:00.013-04:00

It's May in the North Country and the plows are out. Well, plows that help us prepare to sow seeds for a new crop, that is. Not snow plows, a sight which fortunately is behind us. I think.
And “plowing” is indeed the way those of us in the north tend to take on Spring. We've been idle for so long that we start plowing as a way to satisfy our perception that we are behind and need to get caught up. We plow though yard chores long overdue as we'd forgotten how much we had not finished around the yard before that first snow fell. We plow through stacks of paperwork on our desks that somehow felt okay and almost comforting during the winter months. We plow though things in our closets long forgotten and send them off to Goodwill or the neighbor's yard sale. We plow through our vehicles and are amazed at what we've allowed to accumulate; dirt and road salt, piles of fast food wrappers, and gloves, scarves and other winter necessities hidden under the seats. And we plow through the garage, trying to find the source of that odor we could not smell during the cold winter months. And just where, oh where, did I last leave that rake. I know it's in the garden somewhere.

I call all this Spring Frenzy. If you find yourself in the middle of your own little frenzy, which had gone unnoticed until you started reading this newsletter, take heart. It's curable. Go read THIS and then find a pickup truck, not a plow. It will be okay, I promise.

"It's life isn't it? You plow ahead and make a hit. And you plow on and someone passes you. Then someone passes them. Time levels." ~Katharine Hepburn

Lately my friend Kelly and I have been talking about how ego interferes in our lives. And one big ego problem we all seem to have acquired, sometime around beginning grade school, is the notion of deserving or earning. That is, that we get the good things in life because we have earned or deserve them in some way.

So I asked Kelly to go ask her daughter, Emma, a preschooler, how she gets the things she most desires. As Kelly predicted, Emma is convinced that all she desires will come to
her if she jus t asks, nicely of course.

Kelly and Emma have what they call “Chocolate Moments.” Chocolate moments are for nothing. There is no reason for a chocolate moment. There are no rules. Chocolate moments are just because.

Kelly says Chocolate Moments happen something like this. Chocolate is kept in its usual spot in the house. It is always there and it is always available. Kelly will give Emma “the look” which signals a chocolate moment is about to happen as they raid the chocolate stash. Emma, knows chocolate moments happen just because. Not because she was good, not because she ate all her dinner (in fact chocolate moments can occur before dinner), not because she cleaned her room, not because she was polite, not because she was sick and needed comforting, and not because she said “please.” Chocolate moments just happen.

Insert whatever works for you...”___________ Moments.” Whatever your chosen moment, drop everything and take advantage. Often! Like Emma, you deserve your own moments not because you were good or you in some way earned them. You deserve them just because...well...you just do.

"Life is like a box of chocolates - you never know what you're going to get." ~Forrest Gump

May Michigan Morels--Keeping 'em for Winter

2009-05-16T21:48:00.009-04:00

It’s morel season here in Northern Michigan. I’ll be picking for another week. Then I’m headed north to one of my favorite fishing spots, where if I’m lucky, the morels will just be emerging.

As I prepare another batch of morels today, I thought I might share my method for eating morels in the middle of the winter. I used to dry them. Then, on a cold winter day, I would re-hydrate my morels enough for scrambled eggs or throw them dried, right into a soup or a sauce for pasta. A pesto sauce with morels is heaven! But always, in the middle of winter, I missed the delight of eating fresh morels.

Here’s what I do now to get as close as I can to eating fresh morels all year. After I’ve picked a fresh batch in May, I always, rinse the morels in cold water and cut them in half lengthwise, in order to rinse out any dirt or bugs inside the morel. Next I lay them on a paper towel to let all the excess water drain. As the drying continues, I change the paper towel often. I continue this process until the morels are still fresh, but beginning to lose their moisture.

Of course, I keep a few for my next meal. As far as I’m concerned, one should be eating morels every day during the season. But a few I want to preserve for the long winter months. These, I dump in a paper bag with white flour and just a little salt. I shake the bag lightly to cover the morels and then I remove them and shake any loose flour from each morel. You want the morel totally covered with flour, lightly, but not caked. If your morels are heavily caked with flour, you didn’t remove enough moisture first.

Next, I set each morel on a baking sheet and place them in the freezer. I take care to make sure they are not clumped together but spread out. The morels need to be individually frozen. I usually let them freeze overnight, enough to make sure they are well frozen.

When I remove my morels from the freezer, I quickly put them in a freezer bag and get them back in the freezer. Lately, I’ve been using freezer bags that have a suction cap which allows me to remove excess air. I can't remove too much air. Morels are delicate and I can crush them if I'm over zealous.

Here’s why this method works so well for me and what you need to do when you cook your morels. Freezing floured morels individually on the baking sheet allows me to easily break them apart and cook as many or as little as I like. I simply remove the amount of morels I want to cook and immediately return the others to the freezer. But before I take them out of the freezer, I get my pan hot with melted butter. Then, I place each morel, cut side down, in the frying pan. I don't mess with them! They are thawing as they cook. Once one side is thoroughly cooked, I turn them over, individually again, and cook the other side. When my morels are thoroughly cooked, I then stir them in the pan the way I normally do when cooking fresh morels.

Follow this method, and you’ll be amazed at how fresh your morels taste and feel. And I'm all ears. Share your morel cooking techniques right here please.

Snow Fleas

2009-03-25T18:29:00.003-04:00

I'm still enjoying the snow fleas. I expect I've got at least a couple more weeks before all the snow melts and I can no longer see those little critters. I've learned that they are always there. They are just more noticeable on the snow white background. More info at my squidoo lens, snowfleas

Perspective

2009-03-25T15:46:00.008-04:00

50 degree temperatures feel oh so much different in March than they did in September.

It's the same temperature, just a different month, a different angle, and therefore a different perspective.
That's just my experience here in the north. Do those of you who live in more temperate climates tire of hearing those of us in the north go on and on about our weather? We can't help it. It's such a big part of our lives.

Right now, with the sun shining like I have not seen it shine in over four months, I'm more alive. The affect feels razor sharp after dreary dark and overcast snowy days for months. Oh, we have had some sun on occasion. It's just that now, with spring, our sunshine comes with colors. Don't ask me to explain in any kind of a scientific way. I'm sure there is one. But it's not until late February or early March that I see those colors in each day's light. Sunshine in December and January can, on occasion, be bright, but it's never colorful.
But now, oh my! There's still plenty of snow but just look at the colors in the light!
Perspective is greatly affected by the angle in which we view our world. With each new angle, there is a new perspective. During the equinoxes, both spring and fall, when this globe we ride is in balance, I'm usually thrown off kilter because I must move from a perspective I've made routine for several months into one that I always know is coming but still surprises me.
There's nothing to do really but hang on for the ride. I'll soon be into a new six-month routine. And then, just when I think I've got it down, fall will sneak up behind me I'll be seeing things differently all over again.

“In order to keep a true perspective of one's importance, everyone should have a dog that will worship him and a cat that will ignore him.”

“Bunny slippers remind me of who I am. You can't get a swelled head if you wear bunny slippers. You can't lose your sense of perspective and start acting like a star or a rich lady if you keep on wearing bunny slippers. Besides, bunny slippers give me confidence because they're so jaunty. They make a statement; they say, 'Nothing the world does to me can ever get me so far down that I can't be silly and frivolous.' If I died and found myself in Hell, I could endure the place if I had bunny slippers.” ~Dean Koontz

Speaking of bunnies, ...

Tidbits

2009-02-07T08:56:00.007-05:00

The gifts of February in Northern Michigan come in tiny, tiny packages: a momentary sight of a deer before she heads back down to the creek where the snow is less deep and the temperatures are just a little warmer; a few snow fleas, just a few, to remind me that there is, indeed, life within all this stillness; a few more seconds of light each day; a glimpse of the sun over the tree tops at the southern end of my property before it dips again below the tree line; a few minutes more each week when the sky is cloudless. The world around my home is locked up, frozen. So each tiny change feels monumental.
Once spring and summer arrive, my senses will be overloaded. I’ll take in more and therefore probably notice less. So now, I relish noticing the little things. In February, it feels luxurious to take in the tidbits, the morsels, doled out in my frozen world. I enjoy being reminded that the small things in life are as important as the bigger events.
So here are just a few tidbits from my February appreciation list:
• Fluffy warm socks, size BIG.
• A movie at a friend's house, in PJ's of course. Thanks Corey!
• The wonder of coming upon another’s snowshoe tracks deep in ‘my’ woods.
• Skipping around the house to my favorite songs.
• Wood fires.
• A good Manhattan, up!
• Sighting a downy, hairy, red-headed, red-bellied and pileated woodpecker in one day.
• The smell of sunflower seeds and cracked corn as I scoop the critter food into my bucket.
• My pair of old dogs.
• Northern Pike and Walleye from the freezer.
• Venison from the freezer.
• Moose from the freezer.
• Morel mushrooms from the freezer.
• Huckleberries from the freezer.
• Novels so rich they take the whole month to read.
• Ordering my annual supply of fishing lures from Lucky Strike Bait Works.
• Organizing the tackle box.
• Down in all forms (mittens, vests, coats and douvets).
• And…Lots of berry pies!

Happy Valentine's Day, All! Here's to letting the tidbits fill you up!

“When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it's not, mmmmmmmm, boy.” ~ Jack Handy

A New Year's Theme

2008-12-30T15:27:00.005-05:00

A New Year's Theme in an affordable Group Coaching setting
Welcome in 2009 with a New Year's Theme! Resolutions I'm not so big on. Themes I can embrace. And this year, I’d like to offer some affordable group coaching to those of you who also want to bag the resolutions and embrace your theme. This group will meet once each month for the entire 12 months of 2009. With your new 2009 theme in hand and heart, in monthly group coaching sessions we'll help each other play out our themes it big ways.

Maybe your theme is the title of this December blog article, “Freefall.” You want to let go of inhibitions, restrictions and ego in 2009. Maybe your theme is more like November's Thanksgiving article on “Thanks” and you want to be more appreciative of all you have and will become in 2009. Maybe your theme is “Living Light” to reflect your desire to be more open to what comes and let go of what is holding you down, while a fellow caller has chosen a theme like “I Can Do That” in order to move from sidelines into action.

In the spirit of openness, fun and light, I've kept requirements to a minimum…

Join us when you can
Leave us when you feel complete
I’d like a minimum of 4 players to start
Pay with PayPal, check or credit card, due on the 1st of each month that you intend to join us

Details at my Portage website.

"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." ~Will Rogers

Freefall

2008-12-29T13:39:00.008-05:00

Happy Holidays, My Friends!

Our winter white stuff has been falling, falling, and falling. My yard probably has about 4 feet of snow and there seems no end to it. I've already shoveled the roof once. Today I go for round two. If these blog entries cease, come find me. Bring shovels!

Relax. This article is not about the stock market, housing prices, the auto industry or any one of the other related 2008 news stories. I'm not standing on any stump or soapbox. In fact, I'm much higher. I'm on the roof.

This winter thus far has brought one very big, delightful surprise, better than any Christmas present I could have imagined. In the middle of more snow than we've seen in many, many winters I've also taken delivery of a childhood dream. I've got a new game called “Jumping off the Roof,” and I'm going to do it as many time as I possibly can while we've still got snow. My ladder is propped permanently against the front of the house. At a moments notice, I can make a quick climb, spread my arms wide, and let go, just like those thousands of times I imagined leaping from the roof as a child.

The freefalls I'm indulging in this month are way beyond the ego and its censors. They are beyond the structures we create to contain things. They are intuitive, imaginative, whimsical, with just the right touch of childishness. My body and imaginations have taken flight.

Now I’d be fibbing if I told you I have a clue about what I will do with this December 2008 experience, if anything. I can barely make it into a sensible blog article. But oh, my freefall antics have broken through some internal barriers, inhibitions, and worst-case scenarios that have been building for awhile, allowing the child in me to bubble to the surface.

I bet this childhood dream of taking flight from the roof is pretty common. It seems to have sort of a Peter Pan or Mary Poppins flavor to it. If as a child you had similar longings of jumping off the roof and flying, come on over. I've got soft landings, at least until the snow melts. Dreams can come true.

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." ~Lewis Carroll

A Thanksgiving Thanks

2008-11-28T12:10:00.015-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving All!

We've got snow; lots of snow. I actually planned to write this little earlier but I've been enjoying time with stranded friends instead. Here in the north, we experience November as the bridge between fall and winter, the space between chatter and silence, that place where activity comes to a halt and takes a deep sigh.

This week, just when my friends from the North decided to stop in for a quick overnight on their way to warmer southern climates, winter decided to take a direct hit. My sweet friend, Madelenine, left the following behind when Mother Nature stopped to catch her breath and let them make their escape. I'll see you in the Spring on your way north again, Madeleine, Richard, Nicole and Reg. Bon Voyage!

“In wilderness is the preservation of the world.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

Stranded by Madeleine Beaupré

Well, we made it as far as Fife Lake, Michigan.

The first leg of our trip before the Alberta clipper hit.

Mother Nature had mischievously planned quite a shenanigan
We did arrive safely at Deb’s—But then that wasn't it.

We got snowed into her ample back yard.
Doing nothing but talking and cheering and feasting.
Becoming more ample ourselves—
She's a great hostess so it wasn't hard!

Then curled up comfortably in Deb's cushy chair,
Drinking in the laughter, the ribbing, the conversation,
I was inspired to jot down some unpolished thoughts,
Plucked from mid-air:

Thank You—A Free-Verse Outpouring

Wow—If I ever get stranded, what better place?
Surrounded by the familiar faces of family
grouped around Deb's home fires.
Igniting informal debates, chuckles then post-dinner
wine and rapid witty repartee.

Thank You, Fate,
for the coincidences you orchestrate.

Look out any window. What do you see,
through the delicate veil
of a windless, densely falling snow?

A babbling brook, a Winter-scape
straight out of a school text book.
A magical scene,
complete with overhanging snow-laden boughs
so muted and breath-taking, it leaves me in awe.

Thank You, Mother Earth,
for providing this oasis of gentleness.
Is this your way of saying I Love You, to us?
Well then,
Thank You once more!
We love you too!

Unbelievably, as if to confirm my thoughts,
she sends a lone, fragile fawn
down to drink from the stream!
How amazing is that?
It moves closer to the window—
we can see it clearly.
It raises its beautiful head,
and gazes right at us with those
soft doe-eyes, unafraid
before wandering away slowly,
taking a sip here, chewing on a twig there.

Again, Thank You!
For the gift of this simple pleasure of this sighting.

The new season is suddenly upon us.
The snow falls steadily overnight, gently
piling itself onto all surfaces in high, rounded mounds,
bestowing onto familiar objects an
otherworldly appearance.
But—another world it is!
A world of calm, and quietude,
and looking inward.
And forcibly slowing down all the
madness and the rush,
so that one may pause and say…

Thank You
for all this.
And everything else we neglect
to stop for a moment and appreciate.

"The only real voyage consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes; in seeing the universe through the eyes of another, one hundred others—in seeing the hundred universes that each of them sees.” ~Marcel Proust

The Sands of Time

2008-10-26T13:34:00.005-04:00

We're getting hard frosts now. In the morning, the ground and my garden are icy white. When the sun finally makes it up above the tree tops, leaves fall in torrents as the heat hits those ice-cold branches and the trees lose their grip on the summer canopy.
"Time is like a handful of sand - the tighter you grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers"

These days, there is not much space outside of the time I spend with my mother. So I have found when I do not hand over my writing to others, what I am compelled to write about becomes an extension of my conversations and reflections with Mom. The two of us are spending a lot of time looking back. That's where she's most comfortable. The farther back we go, the better her memory. Ask her about an event or person in her childhood and you'll get minute details. Ask her what she had for lunch the minute she finished the last morsel, and you'll get a shrug.

Mom grew up on the Atlantic Ocean just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Her summers were spent with family on Cape Cod. Her only move was to Michigan and the shores of a much smaller body of water but still huge in its own right, Lake Michigan. This is where Mom has spent the last 68 years of her life and where I grew up.

The other day we talked about spending so much of one's life on or near a beach. There are many wonderful and interesting things about beach life. Watching wildlife, digging clams, and flying kites have been some of our favorites. But in our conversation, Mom seemed to want to focus on sand. We agreed that our beach days will always be a part of us and will forever be most defined by sand. Oh, such a tiny thing for such a long life!

We've concluded that our hair, toes, belly buttons and many other unmentionable crevices will always contain at least a few grains of sand. A total cleaning is not possible. We'll both die with sand in some crack. Likewise, we'll forever have sand in our bed.

We are still astounded at how possessions can get lost for a long, long time as the sand shifts and inches forward and backward with the wind and the waves. And that often, with that same shifting, the treasures are unearthed and things long lost return. I remember that vividly with a stuffed toy cat that disappeared for a good three months, only to return with no more damage than need of a good washing.

We agreed that sleeping on the sand makes the best nap. Long after the day has cooled, that patch of sand is still quite warm having absorbed the sun all day. Warm sand, properly piled and molded, will allow for rest so deep you'll drool in your sleep and wake with sand plastered to the side of your face.

We sighed as we remembered the experience of standing at the water's edge and wiggling our feet in the sand. Better than any foot massage we've ever had, our feet emerged baby fresh and buffed.

I serve up this reflection about sand as an opportunity for you to remember the environment that forever defines you. What simple geography has played a big role in defining who you are today? Prairie grasses, a cool and quite pine forest, rocks, an orchard, a pasture? Search for that place in your own life journey. Your eternity is as simple as a grain of sand. I’d love to hear your reflections as you discover your own sands of time.

“To see a world in a grain of sand
And Heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of you hand
And eternity in an hour.”
Auguries of Innocence ~William Blake

“They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.”
~Edward Lear

Lawnless

2008-09-14T11:48:00.005-04:00

Oh, sacred September, one of my all time favorite months. Just the right balance of warmth and crispness, don't you think?

I'm messin' about in the garden these days. I've decided to pull up all the iris and day lilies. They need to be separated and replanted, with leftovers going to a couple of good friends. It may be the wrong time of year for digging up garden flowers for all I know. My gardening knowledge is very tiny, indeed. I know a lot about sitting, resting, musing and enjoying my garden...or a lake...or a tree...or even a rock for that matter. Its just one of the many ways I notice all the abundance that is around me. So if you see my digging and replanting this time of year as a gardening mistake, keep it to yourself please. I'm on a roll.

It was only a year ago, last October, when I wrote about The Speed of Life. The article was inspired by a sign that read: "Life is too short to wear matching socks." From there, I created my own "Life is Too Short" list. And top on my list was "Life is too short to mow the lawn." My friend, Madeleine, has taken this sentiment to a judicial, logical, and immaculate RANT. Mad takes it to the extreme. She not only says life is too short to mow the lawn, she argues that life is too short to have a lawn at all! I so enjoy getting Mad's occasional rants in my email inbox. This one I just had to share with you all. It's a great time of year, as we put our gardens and yards to rest, to reflect on just how much time and energy we have and where we care to spend it.

The more time I find for my favorite leisures, the more grounded I become. I'm amazed and impressed with my ability and desire to do little and, consequently, more.

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." ~Annie Dillard

DOWN WITH LAWNS! by Madeleine Beaupré

What is it with this North-American obsession, anyway? Even a pure, dope-free virgin lawn requires SO much TLC from its owners, one has to wonder what exactly is it giving in return? One of my personal pet peeves is The Moocher. What has that got to do with lawns, you ask? Well, lawns are obviously big time moochers! Taking, taking, taking - always taking! And what does one get in return? Well, it does look pretty, does it not? Pretty, alright. Pretty useless, is what I say! Unless your kids are rolling in it from dawn to dusk. And, in that case, it had better be chemical-free, or your offspring will soon be of the glow-in-the-dark variety.

Now is the time to plan next year's yard landscaping modifications! And if you ask me, less is best when it comes to lawns! Please don't quote the line: "But its respiration cycle provides us with precious oxygen!" Because trees, shrubs, other plants and countless other ground covers can do that just as well, if not better! And, if you're like many of us, in need of some fresh air and therapeutic time while you tend to the yard, why not plant something you can actually use? Like...veggies! Yes, apparently this trend is truly catching on! Edible landscaping - now THAT is putting your money where your mouth is! Many vegetable plants are quite attractive, and you can literally reap what you sow!

Did you know that in North America, combined yearly lawn maintenance costs have soared to the equivalent of the total federal budgets of some third-world countries!!! To beef up my admittedly biased, arguably argumentative arguments, I took to the Net. While perusing various websites of a turfy nature, both pro and con, I came across acres of green information. Some was familiar (i.e., my hero, David Suzuki), but tons of soddy stuff I didn't even fathom, and much was just plain shocking, such as the following tidbit. I could not re-locate the original BNet article pertaining to one of my side notes, but here, in a nutshell, is the following projection: by the year 2010 (within the next year-and-a-half), in the U.S. alone, lawn maintenance costs will exceed $9 Billion. That's million with a "B", ladies and gentlemen.

It gives us a glimmer of hope to see legislation finally being enacted in many areas, amending laws to ban the use of wasteful water usage and of gardening chemicals for the sake of yard cosmetics. Finally. Was it maybe partly due to the fact that dogs, cats and little kids can't read those tiny flags they stick in lawns as warnings, after they spray them with known carcinogens?

However, our town, and too many others, still maintain and enforce by-laws which dictate the maximum height of your grass, AND require you to prevent it from drying out, under threat of stiff fines! Allowances are not often made for water shortages, except for the odd/even watering rule. If you're stuck on grass, reduce the size of the sodded area in your yard, replacing some of it with attractive alternative landscaping. At the very least, switch to healthier, more earth-friendly weeding and bug control methods. Many chemical-free products and techniques are now widely promoted, thanks to the efforts of devoted environmental activists, as well as more health conscious folks.

The photo is that of a neighbour's yard, which I have wistfully admired since its creation. It is an eye-pleasing blend of different features which I find quite striking. Note the strategic compromise of the aesthetic and the environmental:

Native prairie grasses, left long and willowy, can be admired swaying in the breeze. Rock gardens are a favourite of mine, for obvious reasons. And, if you must have lawn, then counterbalance that flat, unnatural view with low-maintenance plants indigenous to your climate zone. Shrubs are nice. And, of course, trees. As many as possible. Did you know that the USDA reports that one well-positioned shade tree can equal the cooling effects of five air conditioners?

I just cannot wrap my head around the strange concept that a manicured lawn enhances the appearance of your property more than other, more nature-inspired landscaping. But there it was, staring at me from my monitor: the definitive proof of this obsessive cultural phenomenon. An ad. It read something like this: "Have your lawn maintenance costs risen too high? If you are fed up with all that mowing and watering, call us for a free consultation! Our solution will provide your property with an enhanced appearance as well as cutting your costs significantly. Call today to inquire about our high quality synthetic grass! " Egad! Is it just me, or what?

Around here, in my little corner of the World, my husband is the self-appointed, long-suffering, sole custodian of THE LAWN. I have more useful things to do, like meditating in my muskoka chair. Or walking in the woods. Or rock hunting in the vacant lot next door. Or laundry.

Some of us (I) could never be bothered to cut, clip, trim, aerate, mulch, weed and feed and otherwise coddle and fret over our expansive acre of mixed woods and greens, with a good portion of clover, interspersed with the occasional sodded spot. However, in quasi-keeping with our neighbourhood's well-meaning but wasteful elevated horticultural standards, my misguided lawn devotee refuses to quit! I beg him: Let it go! If you truly love it, set it free! Move on with your life! But no: he feels socially obligated to (somewhat) regularly fire up the dreaded smelly pollution-spewing riding mower, haul out the gigantic evil-sounding shoulder holstered 100 pound whipper-slasher, and the squeaky wheeled push-and-spin feeder, as well as the long-handled telescopic saw pruner.

Even if he is already swamped in a backwash of a quazillion accumulated more pressing chores. ALL is postponed because...THE LAWN beckons! THE LAWN is hungry/thirsty! THE LAWN requires a haircut to remain fashionable! THE LAWN is upset with all those pesky little daisies and dandelions sprouting here, there and everywhere! I wonder when, exactly, did the court convene to decree that the bright and cheerful dandelion is a weed? At least you can make wine or salad with dandelions! I dare you to try serving your lawn cuttings for lunch tomorrow...

Not having obtained the desired stellar results so far in my endeavour to endear all home-owners in my acquaintance to my cause, (a few continue to imitate the ostrich when it comes to environmental issues), I have decided to quit re-hashing Al Gore et al., and change my tack. Instead, I will try to more subtly expose the gist of one of my main points: the time factor. All that time - and energy – which could be more happily spent on more pleasant activities.

To quote Andy Rooney: "Life is like a roll of toilet paper: the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes."

Allow me to illustrate by means of a simple exercise borrowed from a grey-haired, white-mustachioed gnome-like being, who wisely explains the conscious use one should make of one's life span with the following analogy (also shnagged from Andy Rooney, in all probability): Unroll a measuring tape to 75 or 80 inches, representing an average life expectancy. Re-wind the portion you have already "lived", in my case, shorten it by 55 inches/years. Examine closely the remaining short bit, and ask yourself: How can I most enjoy this last fraction of time left for me to live life on this planet? If you choose to spend an inordinate amount of that time tending to the demands of useless but (questionably) aesthetically-pleasing blades of grass, then so be it. But others may re-consider...

Many long maligned so-called weeds are attractive, perfectly harmless and sometimes quite useful members of the plant world, just as deserving of a special place in our home environment as grass! Personally, I have observed that grass can be a very persistent nuisance, insisting on insinuating itself even where it is squarely uninvited. If you let it, it will take over nature wherever it can, unaccepting of the possibility that a homeowner may choose wild-flowers, or ivy or dogwood, or - nothing - in its stead. Grass can indeed become the weed! In fact, I often see grass as the unwelcome invader: in our rock gardens, graveled landscaping, flower beds, vegetable patches, driveway cracks and sandy beaches. Did you know that grass can thrive, unsolicited, in a full three-foot depth of beach sand? Yes, it can. I have seen it with my own eyes. As a matter of fact, right now, as we speak, I'm sitting here watching it grow.

Madeleine,
a.k.a. MadMad
a.k.a. MadAgainstTheWorld(AndHappilyEnjoyingEveryMinuteOfItAsMuchAsHumanlyPossible)

"A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule." ~Michael Pollan

Disorderly Conduct

2008-08-18T13:37:00.003-04:00

I made it. I finally got north for two full weeks of fishing. After months of being a caretaker, taking time away from Mom was difficult. It seems I fell into a bit of a trap, being drawn to create order in the midst of the seeming chaos of my mother's illness. So I cleaned, sorted, mowed, planted, folded, dusted, rearranged, tossed, and organized. The list is long. But even in the middle of my orderly behavior, I recognized my actions were not really about creating order. They were more about trying to be in control.

Just like the ease with which summer gives way to fall, when I take a minute to breathe and observe, I can see that order is already inherent in any chaos. There is nothing for me to do. If I'm willing to relinquish control, I can always see the present order within the mess before me. That order is, at its heart, natural and expansive. The control I was seeking is contrived and limiting.

So, thanks to a complicated (dare I say “chaotic”) system that involved train conductors, a shortwave radio, a fly-in fishing camp to our south, and a bush plane pilot, I was finally able to get away and muck about in chaos, knowing the order was there when I needed it. Some days I caught too many fish, some days I didn't fish at all. Some days I slept in and stayed up late, other days I was up before the sun and in bed before the stars. Some days I ate every hour, on the hour. Other days I ate only one meal. Some days I had milk and cookies for a bedtime snack, other days it was good bourbon and a cigarette. I can't say I felt more in control after all my disorderly conduct. But I can say that I have a better, more trusting, relationship with chaos. And that gives me peace.

“Chaos in the world brings uneasiness, but it also allows the opportunity for creativity and growth.” ~Tom Barrett

“Chaos is a friend of mine.” ~Bob Dylan

“Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.” ~Henry Miller

“Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds.” ~George Santayana

How I Threw Out My Shoulder Wednesday Morning

2008-06-16T09:55:00.005-04:00

I am submitting this contribution to Deb for her perusal: to accept, reject, or modify, as she sees fit. It matters not what she decides: my venting will have been done, and I will thankfully move on, all those pent-up emotions having been expressed.
Because, you see, this piece pertains to a highly sensitive, but seasonal (it changes in winter) hate-object: the minuscule but intensely phobia-inducing...

MOSQUITO!

So, Iasked Deb: "How do the good people of Michigan cope, when those pesky critters are driving them stark raving bananas?" Quick as a whip, just like that,she quipped: "Well, we just drop everything and run into the house! Duh!"To which I replied: "But, Deb - I AM in the house!" Do you now understand the sheer intensity and depth of my torment? Our home is in the mid-north. That's what the news anchor calls it. Northern Ontario, that is. It is also the home of the dreaded mosquito. As well as the lowly blackfly...but that is another story.
I was not sure how to start. I thought a catchy opening line might be:
"There are blood-spatters on my bedroom ceiling and walls - but don't bother calling the CSI, as they are my own."
OR
"Dead bodies lie helter-skelter on my bedroom floor. I willfully leave them there, in plain view, as fair warning to future intruders: Beware - a madwoman lives here."
OR
"My notches are innumerable - but they're on a swatter, not a pistol."

Instead, I decide to go with my original How I Threw Out My Shoulder Wednesday Morning.

Now, it's not like I have no ammo here: an arsenal of anti-bug implements, supplies, and equipment have been put to the Test. Every conceivable lotion, potion, lamp, candle, spray, garden stake, zapper, stick, and trap has failed the Test. Every electric, electronic, butane-fuelled, battery-operated, as well as hand-held weapon has failed the Test. Every conceivable attire such as netted hats, jackets, pants, jumpsuits, gloves as well as domed food covers has failed the Test. A four-poster bed frame was purchased for the sole purpose of holding up a home-made mesh enclosure, fashioned from a whole bolt of fine wedding tulle. Failed. They used GPS and found their way in.

I had my husband dip himself in Deet. Then, armed with hockey tape and various sizes of cut-out screen, his mission was to creatively install a barrier onto every possible aperture leading into the house, from the dryer vent to the wash-bay drain hole, including the chimney (we agreed to desist from using the fireplace - a small price to pay indeed). They are still getting in.

Yet here I stand before you, swearing to the efficacy of the common bedroom slipper. Size 7.

Long ago, it became clear to me: There must be something in the water at our place. There was. Literally. Larva: huge, mutant-ninja Larva - that soon hatch into huge, mutant-ninja Skitters. This unnamed species, an aberration of nature, is limited to one biosphere: our property, both the house and our very wet and wild backyard. The catalytic nature of the local water seems to dramatically increase, in the female of the species Culicidae, both the size of the proboscis and the creature's I.Q. I'm theorizing here, but based on my clinical experience, I can personally vouch for their superior intellect: take it from me - those suckers are a pain to kill.

But they shouldn't, should they? After all, their brain is but a fraction of the size of mine. Yet they are born innately knowing how to strategize, regroup, huddle and plan their attacks with military precision. They are a formidable foe indeed. They can even tell time. And their tiny little ears are highly developed, for they know the sound of snoring. Snoring occurs at approximately 2 a.m., in our house anyway. This signals the deployment of the first bloodthirsty troop. Anyone sitting in the dark on our street, in the dead of any summer night, will bear witness to the lights suddenly turning on in our bedroom window between 2 and 3 a.m. Regularly. And when those lights go on, then, my friends, so is the War.

You can hear thunderous thumping, explosive smacks, and sometimes - o.k., many times, there is crashing. Unfortunately, the source of the wails, shrieks and howling is not from any winged insect, but from the grimacing, disheveled, evil-eyed Medusa, swaying in the middle of the creaking bed, brandishing her deadly slipper menacingly: moi. Yes. Beware. She may be panting and worn down, but has learned to remain persistent, obsessive even, and will strike at the slightest flitting. Her nerves are frazzled, but her eye is keen.

After a whole contingent has succumbed to the zeal of her blows, she spies a lone straggler! It is fully laden and slowed by its' burden of blood: HER blood! This sends her into a frenzy of ill-choreographed prancing, which inevitably leads to grave injury, to both pest and swatter. Hence the injured arm.

This is a true story.
Madeleine Beaupré

"If you think you're too small to have an impact, try going to bed with a mosquito." ~Anita Roddick

What's In A Name

2008-06-16T09:30:00.007-04:00

As a child, did you want to change your name? I did. And a lot of my friends did too. I remember sitting outside with my childhood friends imagining all sorts of better names. Most of them were not traditional names. We wanted to be called names like Chipmunk or Daisy or Leapfrog or Brook Trout or Dragon or Gray Girl. Don't ask me why. I may have understood our logic then but it has escaped me.

But opportunity is knocking. I'm looking at a camp on one of my favorite lakes just outside of Oba, Ontario. So Oba, population about 8 full time residents, could soon be my summer mailing address. In Oba, everyone's "real" address is General Delivery. The mail gets thrown off the train about three times a week. The Postmaster rides his 4-wheeler to the train crossing, catches the mail bag, and delivers the mail on the spot. If someone is not home, he just takes it back to his house to be picked up or delivered later.

Everyone in Oba, because they are General Delivery, gets to create their own address. My friend Sam is at #1 Shoreline Drive. This is not because his shack in Oba is on any shoreline. it's in the second row of houses back from the tracks. But his camp, www.cameronlakefishinglodges.com, is 14 miles down the Oba River from town. So Sam figures he has the longest “Shoreline Drive” of anyone in town. When Tex the old trapper was alive, his address was #13 Sled Dog Lane. As the dogs got older and died and Tex slowed down and didn't need to replace them for his work, his address became #12 Sled Dog Lane…#11 Sled Dog Lane…#10 Sled Dog Lane…
So it may soon be my turn. I've entertained Walleye Way, Pike Place and River Route, but they all seem too obvious, too ordinary. Maybe Wondering Woman Way? Hmmmm, not quite. What do you think? I'm taking suggestions. I could wait until I bought the camp. But I'm well aware that we manifest better and more in our lives when we name that peg we plan to hang our fishing hat on.

Ice Out

2008-05-14T14:44:00.009-04:00

Hey All

I've missed writing. I've been attending to the needs of my Mother. So far, her 89th year has been a challenging one.

But while I did not find the time to write about it, I have found some inspiration. I've been inspired by my visit to Northern Ontario the middle of April, before my world turned just a little cockeyed. But while I had inspiration, sitting calmly and writing without distraction has been lacking. Just when I think I will be able to carve our a little time to write, there's one more doctor to talk with, one more nurse who needs more information, a physical therapist who wants history and one more signature needed somewhere. And right now, that's just where my attention needs to be.

So, here's April's inspiration in May. I started it, my friend David happened to call in the middle of one of my frustrating days and offered to finish this up for me.

Thanks David!

As I've said before, my intention in writing, if anything, is just to present the musings of a wandering woman. Take what works for you. Discard what does not. David and I won't mind a bit.

Ice Out...With A Little Help From My Friend, David

April is always the month of flow. My April musings have often been about the rise of my backyard creek, the torrential downpours, the flooding of my driveway, and the flow of maple syrup. This year was the year of Ice Out in Northern Ontario. The few hours it takes lake and river ice to disappear is generally unpredictable so I did not count on being privy to the ritual. But this year I happened to be there just in time.

One moment the lake, and the river that flows from it, is totally covered with ice except for a little ring of water along the shoreline where the warm sun has heated the ground enough to melt the ice. The next moment, dramatic movement begins as the ice starts shifting.

One moment, it's a clam spring day. Birds can be heard in the background. The next moment, nothing can be heard over the thunderous noise created as the ice moves swiftly from the lake and down the river.

One moment the shoreline is flat. The next moment the ice is piled up on itself in some sort of geometric design that has Mother Nature's signature all over it.

One moment the sound is deafening as the ice crunches and grinds upon itself. The next moment, as the drama subsides, the gently swaying ice sounds like the tinkle of wind chimes as it lightly bumps back and forth.

One moment birds on the lake ice are taking flight and Mr. Beaver is diving deep. The next moment that same wildlife is calmly floating by on spring ice flows.

So much like life, eh? Right now, I'm stuck in the “next moment.” David listened and took over….

"I am your biggest fan."

Isn't that a lovely statement? I’ll take credit for it because I said it. I said it to Deb Martin just a few minutes ago.

Deb has been my coach and very good friend for about 6 years. I called her a few minutes ago and she was stuck, just not feeling the normal mushroom-loving, fishing-loving, moose-loving mojo that she normally does.

Deb is a love so I call her from time to time and I tell her I love her. I tell her I love her because it makes me feel good and I think it makes her feel good too.

When I called her today she said she was stuck with her essay and I offered to ghost write something or just write something. She said I should so I am.

Since this is ostensibly a coaching column, I’d like to talk a bit about coaching. Since this column is also from portagecoach.com, I’ll throw in a little ice and ice fishing just so you all feel comfortable.

Deb and I struggled over the years because I kept wanting her to coach me to do something. She just wanted to coach me and let the process lead me, and she and I together, wherever it may.

Just like her columns, she lovingly suggested, that the most wonderful and powerful experiences could be had just going outside, walking around, and taking your clues from the moss on a branch or whether the morels had decided to grow on the roots of the oak trees.

I have found her suggestion to be true. Whenever I try to live my life strictly according to goals it feels empty and shallow … hollow. I came to Deb wanting to change the world, solar power the world, get my musical on Broadway, etc. I came to her convinced that these achievements would give me peace and serenity, joy and meaning.

She didn't say I was wrong. She listened lovingly, for hours. I wondered why she spent so much time listening to me, talking to me. Her attention did not seem at all tied to my achievements or my attempts at achievement. She seemed to love me for exactly where I was at every moment, regardless of whether I was achieving mightily or (in my estimation) screwing up.

Deb let herself wander in my life and quietly and sweetly, by her trusting and generous nature, invited me to wander in hers.

Today's conversation between she and I was unusual. Usually, I bring the conversation around to what I am doing, achieving, and she as always, listens lovingly. Today, I listened to her talk.

Deb is tired. Her brain and maybe her soul is tired, if a soul can be tired.

She had a potential topic for this month. She had already written about the ice breaking up at one of her favorite bodies of water, one of the lakes or rivers where she communes with nature (and her friends sometimes) and recharges her soul.

Recently she had been at this lake or river and the ice started breaking up and moving. She told me the melting ice and shifting and breaking sheets of ice made thunder noises and tinkling noises and crushing noises. She intimated it was beautiful, maybe moving to her. We didn't talk about it much.

It was another of nature's demonstrations and showpieces that Deb loves so much. She seemed a little sad or confused or just frustrated that this tasty piece of nature's showmanship was not as inspiring to her as it might be if she was not dealing with her mother's caretaking.

Funny. I think the roles have reversed. It seems to me that Deb was just a little concerned with performing and meeting expectations and I am the one who is saying, Deb, it's okay, I love you just the way you are.

I love you for struggling.
I love you because you are
letting me write a story for you.
I love you for teaching me how to just be.
I love you for teaching me that if you can't write a kick-ass story, maybe one of your friends will call you up and write it for you.
I love you for teaching me that there is no right or wrong … there is only love.
I love you for taking such good care of your mother.
I want to assure you that there are many years of ice melting and rivers thawing and glorious crunchings and groaning of Canadian lakes in the springtime.
Right now, you are exactly where you need to be, struggling to write an essay so that I might write one for you.

You are my friend, Deb, and I love you very much.

David Freund

“You never really know your friends until the ice breaks” ~~Eskimo Proverb

Time Out!

2008-03-19T11:13:00.004-04:00

Did you make the shift to daylight savings with grace and ease? I didn't. Oh, my routine wasn't altered much. Within a day or two, I was past any effects on my circadian rhythm. It's just that twice a year the time change annoys me. Now before I hear from all of you who have a preference one way or the other about daylight savings time, let me explain. I don't care whether we're on DST or ST. I just wish we'd land somewhere and stay there.
Every year, twice a year, our time shift makes major news. Especially this year with all the speculation about how going on or off daylight savings time helps or hinders global warming, depending of course on the expert of the day being interviewed.
When did we all become so obsessed with time? It used to be that sunrise, midday with the sun directly over our heads (give or take), and sunset were enough to keep us together in some sort of common rhythm. Then, as we became more industrialized, we needed to divide our days into smaller and smaller increments as a way to coordinate with each other. At first, on or about a particular hour was good enough. Then minutes within that hour became necessary. Now, especially for those coordinating in the world of computers, seconds hold greater importance.
And if that's not enough, as if our game of hours and minutes and seconds has become too boring, we have created a new game where we get to change the time of day twice each year. Now there are whole discussions and disagreements about daylight savings time, how and why it became our practice, whether or not we should be going on each spring and off each fall, when the shift would be most helpful and most appropriate for school children, the earth, business…and on and on and on it goes. What have we come to that we are so busy we need to divide time into tiny increments and then adjust it twice a year based on some theory that only really works for a percent of the population?
All I want to do is sit in my chair with my cup of coffee in the morning and watch the sunrise. And I’ll gladly sit in that same chair each evening and watch the sunset. What time the sun rises or sets is not important to me. For the rest of the month I will have the time of my life ice fishing, no longer “doing time,” but instead, in time out! Try it for yourself. I bet you can find one or two days, on occasion, where sunrise and sunset are all that matter. There's no time like the present.

"Clocks slay time...time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life." ~William Faulkner

"But what minutes! Count them by sensation, not by calendars, and each moment is a day."~Benjamin Disraeli

"You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by." ~James Matthew Barrie

Here are a couple of great reads for you:

Walking the Dog

2008-03-11T11:08:00.004-04:00

Here are my favorite Top Ten Reasons to Walk the Dog(s)

1. As Jersey and Styx (my dogs) say, "It blows the stink off."
My dogs mean this a little more literally than I do. But I do notice that as I allow daily worry and concerns to creep in, I begin to smell.

2. It keeps you putting one foot in front of the other.
If it's true that movement creates momentum and momentum creates flow, then putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how mindless, is literally the first step in movement and towards flow.

3. It's a moving meditation.
While my body is doing all the work, my mind is allowed to wander in directions it needs to go and finally become silent.

4. It's cheaper than therapy.
Dogs are great listeners.

5. Your body will look and feel better.
If an improved cardiovascular system isn't enough incentive, think about your legs and butt in shorts and swim suits.

6. You'll notice things only your dog can point out.
Jersey and Styx have hearing and a sense of smell that are far superior to mine. I've come to rely on them to point out wildlife I would have normally walked right by.

7. Ice Cream!
The hot fudge sundae you'll now be tempted to stop for seems little more justified.

8. Without movement and fresh air, dogs, like the rest of us, can become a little testy.
A daily walk can save you repair bills on furniture, boots and shoes, and anything else you dog uses to cure her winter blues. Jersey's personal favorite is playing "keep away" with my
$200 hiking boots.

9. If you've been walking your dog regularly, yard clean up is a lot easier.

10. By developing a strong bond with your dog, she may one day share the importance of turning around three times before lying down.

The Best Medicine

2008-02-28T14:49:00.009-05:00

It seems to me there has been an unusual lack of sun in Northern Michigan this winter. It has felt exceptionally drab and dreary. My observation was confirmed last night on the evening news. 120 inches of snow makes for a lot of overcast skies.
But wait! There are hints that something is breaking loose. This too-long quite winter is getting noisy. I hear a giggle coming from the woods around my home. Could it be the longer daylight is beginning to make a difference? I think so. It's starting with the red squirrels and the blue jays. They have always been the leaders. They're taking personally the job of waking up the woods. They've been here all winter. And just a week ago, they were scurrying and flitting about, quietly and seriously searching for food. Now they sit on the tree outside my bedroom window with no other purpose but to chuckle. By March, today's chuckles will become guffaws as everyone gets in on the act.

I can take a hint. I can make my own sunshine. So each day I will sit quietly and let the laughter come to me. I’ll let it bubble up from the bottom like a long suppressed, runaway spring. I’ll let the corners of my mouth turn up and the fizzy turn into involuntary giggles. I won't turn back. I don't even need something to laugh about. All it takes is a willingness to risk losing a little control. Laughter is free. And it takes nothing away from the seriousness of other activities. We don't need to delay laughter for an earned day off.

Can I become as contagious as those rowdy jays and disruptive red squirrels? Can I pull in the curious who will be unable to leave me without their own little chuckle? I hope so. The jays and squirrels have brightened my surroundings and broken the long silence of winter. I'm eager to pass it on.

Take some time each day to laugh out loud and let the gifts that laughter brings come to you. Then snatch up those gifts and giggle at what has presented itself. The world outside you and the world inside you will appreciate it.

"At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities." ~Jean Houston

"Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face." ~Victor Hugo

"Even if there is nothing to laugh about, laugh on credit." ~Author Unknown

"When people are laughing, they're generally not killing each other." ~Alan Alda

Resources With A Bit Of A Rant

2008-02-04T15:33:00.002-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I was listening to the program This I Believe on National Public Radio. I heard the speaker say something to the effect that we must look at what we do if we want to know what we believe. I think she's close to getting it right. I say listen to what you say if you want to know what you believe. But, looking at what you do will give you a clear indication of what you know to be true. That the distinction between a belief and a knowing is the difference between just talking about and actually doing.
Why do we shy away from saying “This I know?” Do we feel we are being rude or pushy in an arrogant way that will turn our listeners off? Are we afraid that if we firmly state what we know we are unable to change our mind? Perhaps we are too insecure and we are only willing to go as far as believing what we have been told.

What we know is more simple than what we say we believe. Perhaps what we know is so simple that there are no words. Our body simply knows this or that to be true and takes action.

My coaching and writing are filled to the brim with distinctions and musings like this. I love them. And I think distinctions are critical to understanding who we are and what we mean to say. Please don't be lazy in your communication. Find the right word.

For those of you who love words and creating distinctions, check out Visuwords™ Online Graphic Dictionary. Wow, what a resource!

Thank you Coach Shann Vander Leek for sharing this website with me.

Wiggle Room (Revisited)

2008-01-24T14:55:00.002-05:00

I love January as that time of year when I hang close to home napping, writing, listening to the radio, reading, cooking, eating, walking the dogs, a little ice fishing and just generally being quiet.
This year so far, the dogs have kept me hopping. You don't need details. But after three visits from the vet to my home, one including surgery on my kitchen counter, I think we're on the mend. Now I spend my free time washing stains out of the carpeting. Ugh!

Last Monday, when I had reached my emotional limit and the tears were flowing, I heard myself say "Uncle!" So I'm taking my own advice and giving myself some Wiggle Room by repeating an article I wrote in 2002.

My words are more persuasive for me today than they were back then because my retirement is within reach! I've decided to transition this coming spring from a coach who goes on fishing adventures often to a fisherwoman who fishes a lot and coaches occasionally. Oh, I’ll still write. And I've got a handful of clients I will not let go! But for the most part, I’ll be visiting with you and my clients from the wilds of the North Country via some kind of satellite service I have yet to discover. If anyone has suggestion or details about said satellite service, please call or email me.

My writing intention, if anything, is just to present the musings of a wandering woman. Take what works for you. Discard what does not. I won't mind a bit.

Wiggle Room (Revisited)

I was paddling a new river a couple of weekends ago and came up behind a beaver. He didn't know I was there. I spoke up, trying to give him fair warning, but by the time I saw him, I was on top of the poor fellow. We were both pretty surprised. As we went down river together at about the same speed, I could hear and feel, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, on the bottom of my canoe as he tried to maneuver his way out of the dilemma of only 8 inches of water between the bottom of my canoe and the bottom of the river. After a long 45 seconds, we finally reached deeper water. My paddling partner said, “That poor guy just ain’t got no wiggle room.”
But isn't that what happens to us when we play in the shallows, not daring to go deep? When a crisis happens, we don't have room to wiggle because we've limited ourselves. Getting “wiggle room” starts with creating space in our lives. Here are some of my favorite ways:

1. Let go. Avoid being overly attached to goals. Move toward your goals but don't, in your effort to accomplish the goal, miss a new emerging path.

“To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.” ~~Robert Pirsig

2. Understand your fears. Know what's real and what's imagined. You are not alone and you are not powerless. Our egos serve no useful purpose except as a defense for what we fear. Having understood our fears, we can now let go of ego.

"Fear is static that prevents me from hearing my intuition." ~~Hugh Prather

3. Trust your intuition and your dreams. Be open to possibility. Seek the unlikely. Think the unthinkable. Imagine the improbable. Life's biggest opportunities are often hidden to all but our intuition.

“I have heard it said that the first ingredient of success - the earliest spark in the dreaming youth - is this; dream a great dream." ~~John A. Appleman

4. Give yourself permission. There WILL be opportunities. And these opportunities may ask you to become someone you are not right now. You'll want to be able to do that without guilt.

"When you take charge of your life, there is no longer need to ask permission of other people or society at large. When you ask permission, you give someone veto power over your life." ~~Geoffrey F. Abert

The Courage of Your Convictions

2007-12-30T11:53:00.004-05:00

This month I was interview by Megan Raphael, author of The Courage Code, on her monthly call, Conversations with a Woman of Courage. I enjoyed my time with everyone on the call. Thank you, Megan. You can visit Megan's website and listen to her courage conversations at http://www.courageproject.com/workshops.html

So I've found myself musing about courage. My dictionary tells me, that courage is "the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear." I don't believe it. Who are we kidding? When did we learn that courage means without fear? I must have been absent that day. Why can't fear sit side by side with the valor and victory we associate with courageous acts? And how did this definition get so distorted? A quick trip to my etymology dictionary tells me that the Latin root of courage, cor, means heart, “which remains a common metaphor for inner strength.” When I am being courageous, my courage comes from my heart in spite of my fear, not instead of it.

In more primitive times, our courageous acts were merely a fear-induced survival instinct to fight or flee from an immediate danger. We survived because of a nice, healthy fear. Today, mostly, we fear the consequences of imagined things yet to come, not anything real and looming. So today's courageous acts are our willingness to move through our contrived fear. That kind of courage comes from a softer more intuitive and “heart-felt” feeling that our conviction about what we desire is greater than our imagined fear. When we have that sense, that knowing from our heart and not our mind that our convictions are right, we don't need to fight or flee. We simply flow.
So as 2007 ends, take a look at your manufactured fears and use them to do something courageous, something heartfelt, for yourself. I’ll smile and wave as I see you bouncing downstream and flowing gently into 2008. Cheers!

Here are a few Courage quotes to take to "heart."

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." Ambrose Redmoon

"Courage is tiny pieces of fear all glued together." Irisa Hail

"Courage is being scared to death...and saddling up anyway." John Wayne

Boo Boo Antics

2007-12-19T10:54:00.001-05:00

Wow. It has been a short month. And a short year, for that matter. Oh, when I reflect on my comings and goings of 2007, it seems very full indeed. It's just that when I remember back to early January without snow, ice fishing in March, Spring and Summer trips to the far north in search of "the big one," and the wane of summer into fall, it all feels like yesterday.

This year we have snow in December. My walks with the dogs take a little longer and a little more effort. I'll have to break out the snowshoes soon. But the dogs will persist in taking me on their walk each day. Their routine rules in this household.

Last Sunday I took off my mittens to use my camera. Later, about 400 feet down the trail, I discovered I was missing one mitten. After traversing that 400 feet many times I could not find it. Now my big black lab, Styx, has a reputation as a thief. In fact, his nickname is Boo Boo because, while he has a big heart and wants to be good, he just can't. So I was pretty sure he was the reason I could not find my mitten. I searched my trail and every spot along the trail where dog prints wandered into the woods. I went home with only one mitten and it snowed heavily that night. On Monday, I gave Boo Boo a stern talking to and we made a beeline for that same spot on the trail. The big brat went right to the base of a pine tree and dug up the mitten he had buried the day before.

I'm never too angry with him. Years ago the vet told me his hips were so bad he'd likely have to be put down by the time he was five- or six-years-old. He'll be eight this coming May and manages three to six miles a day with me. His energy is boundless and I'm so grateful I didn't spend the last few years fretting and in fear of his outcome. I did, however, spoil him rotten and I'm gladly paying the price now.

Waiting

2007-11-03T15:29:00.000-04:00

"Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. Or waiting around for Friday night or waiting perhaps for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting." ~~Dr. Seuss

My musings in this blog are nothing more than me just reflecting and pondering out loud. Thanks for listening, but don't take me too seriously. I'm not terribly attached to what I say today. It will all likely shift for me tomorrow. If you find some inspiration here, well, don't wait. Grab it! It's yours. Do with it as you please and don't wait for me. I'm wandering on.

The Speed of Life

2007-10-20T15:35:00.000-04:00

I'm a Baby Boomer. I was born in 1953 and I’ll be double nickels in January 2008. Most of the time I know how old I am. But I was surprised when I heard on the news the other day that on October 15, 2007 the first of the Baby Boomers, born in 1946, were eligible to apply for Social Security retirement benefits. Wow! How did that happen? That same day I looked at my calendar and discovered that by the end of October, I will have fished 101 days and 21 lakes in Northern Ontario this year. Wow! How did that happen? I'm feeling a theme here.

In 2008 I will be sneaking out the back door and messing about even more. I don't feel old. But I do feel like I've lived really, really deeply. It feels good. It feels strong. It feels powerful. The older I get the younger I become.

Last weekend I was walking through the streets of Leland, Michigan and saw a store window full of brightly colored socks. No two socks were alike. And the sign said “Life is too short to wear matching socks.” It tickled me.

So I did a quick Google search and found a few more. Life is too short...
...to drink cheap beer.
...to stuff a mushroom.
...to be little.
...for traffic.
...for reading inferior books.

So I thought it would be fun to create my own. And it was easy! Life is too short...
...to mow the lawn.
...to complain.
...to be angry.
...to have regrets.
...to drive around looking for the best gas prices.
...to ignore great weather.
...to pass up a new lake.
...to miss a starry sky.
...to postpone walking the dogs.
...to pass up a slice of hot, homemade bread with butter!!

Your turn! What are you going to stop doing and/or do more of? Send your "Life is to short" comments to me. I'll share.

"Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you." ~~Annie Dillard

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." ~~Annie Dillard

"You only live once; but if you live it right, once is enough." ~~Adam Marshall

Finding Mom

2007-10-08T06:50:00.000-04:00

My mother has dementia. When it first started, I was concerned. Then I was sad. Today I’m experiencing something different. I can’t say I’m delighted or even at peace with her dementia. But I have found a small gift in her condition. I’m finding more of my mother each day as she chooses to share more with me, often because she thinks I am a sister rather than her daughter. Well, we do both have graying hair.

Mom is talking about things in her life she’s never shared before. She’s sharing those things that she has been holding close, some for her lifetime of 88 years.

We all have our secrets we think we’ll take to our graves. But dementia has allowed my Mom to share those things with me. Sometimes she knows she’s sharing a secret for the first time. Most often, the secret comes out in bits and pieces and I have to read between the lines. But over time, I learn more and more as the truth, or rather “her truth,” unfolds.

Breathing

2007-10-01T07:15:00.000-04:00

Massive Canadian Shield boulders

On top

The wind blows through me

The Side of the Road in Paradise

2007-09-20T10:28:00.002-04:00

Our heat wave has ended and cool, crisp, typical fall days are embracing us. This month I've been picking apples in Paradise. Along the side of a country road in Paradise Township, I've discovered apple trees, long gone wild and neglected. The apples are a little puny this year. We just didn't have enough rain. But that does not diminish my delight.
As a child I used to sneak into active orchards and steal one or two apples for a snack. Stolen fruit tasted so much more delicious. Now, there are so many abandoned trees that I can pick a couple of bushels in broad daylight without repercussion. Of course, in my childhood imaginings, the orchard owner was far more dangerous and evil than any farmer can possibly be. But the adrenaline produced by thoughts of an angry farmer made the fruit just a little sweeter. Sadly, the orchards are being abandoned as fruit farming takes a back seat to more profitable endeavors with the land.

During my late teens and early 20's, I picked apples each fall for extra cash. I worked hard, climbing up tall, skinny, and precariously placed ladders to fill a metal and canvas bucket hanging from shoulder straps in front of me. Then, descending that ladder with my burden, I would open the bottom of the bucket and empty the apples into a large crate. I got paid by the crate but now I can't remember how much. It seemed like very good money at the time. I suppose because that hard work didn't feel like work at all. I mean, what's not to love? I was outdoors during the most beautiful time of year, I had plenty of apples to eat and take home, I was moving my body and I was making money.

I once lived in an old farmhouse with a cider press in the backyard. We made fresh cider every October. Once the excess juice and pulp hit the ground, the deer visited my back yard every night throughout the fall. I so enjoyed sitting on the back porch, a hot, spiced cider in hand, watching the wildlife descend upon the remains of my labors.

So what is delighting you during this time of the equinox, this solar mid-point? Here are comments I've heard from a few of you...
...staying home, evening fires, Indian Summer, bushels of tomatoes, pickling and canning, a new box of crayons, a new teacher, new school clothes, color tours, falling leaves, piles of leaves, burning leaves, acorns falling on your head, hot drinks, the buzz of a chain saw, the rhythmic thud of an ax, camo clothing, bows and arrows, tree stands, muskie fishing, football, warm socks, wool blankets, fuzzy sweaters, cider, fried doughnuts, apple pie, acorn squash, mums, pumpkins, cold mornings, warm afternoons, seeing your breath, morning frost, vees of honking geese, large flocks of birds, ...what else? Have I missed anything? Please share. And enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of your own little Autumnal Paradise.

“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” ~ Martin
Luther

“If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” ~Dr. Carl Sagan

“Ever since Eve gave Adam the apple, there has been a misunderstanding between the sexes about gifts”
~ Nan Robertson

Labor Day

2007-09-08T19:12:00.001-04:00

Our Annual After-Labor Day Community Picnic

Labor Day marked the beginning of the end of tourist season here in Northern Michigan. The crowds have diminished. Our fair-weather friends have gone home. For those of us who live here all year, it is the time to lean back in our chairs a little, throw another log on the fire, take a deep breath and a sigh of relief, and once again enjoy the company of those friends and neighbors we lost to the summer frenzy of living in a resort community.

Field Notes

2007-08-16T09:44:00.000-04:00

I'm motivated to write by my emotions, not fact or accuracy. So please forgive me if I've sacrificed verity for a juicier story. I'm not fibbing. I'm simply sharing my truth as it feels. Enjoy my anecdotes for what they are, the big messy puddle I so enjoy wallowing in. Come on in, the water's fine!

The more time I find for my favorite leisures, the more grounded I become. I'm amazed and impressed with my ability and desire to do little and, consequently, more.

I spend a lot of time in the wilderness. Each day I take time to hike close to home or camp. But I won't carry a notebook or notepad with me. I’ll leave one on the house or cabin table, one by my bed, one on the kitchen counter, one in the car, even one in the outhouse at camp. But I won't carry one, no matter how small. My policy for my daily hikes is, if it does not fit in a pocket, I don't take it with me.

Oh, I know all about field notes. They are the notations those more diligent than me take to accurately chronicle a rare or unusual thing or event as it occurs in the field, getting as much of the description as possible at the spot of the sighting. Many field notes feature sketches or photographs with written detail. Some field notes include an opinion or interpretation by the observer. “Proper” field notes can be used as evidence and become part of history.

But I've come to live with the fact that I'm probably less than accurate when I relate a sighting or an event in my life. By the time I get back to paper and pen, sometimes hours, sometimes days, my emotions about the sighting have taken hold. I'm unable to distinguish the facts of the event from my emotionally-triggered imaginings.

Does this mean that much of my recalled life, while not total fiction, is liberally spiced up? Probably. My field notes are unreliable. But I would challenge that we're not accurate about anything we observe when we leave out the emotional impact that observation has on us.

So in the final stretch of sweet, sweet summer, before autumn envelopes us, throw away your notebooks, allow your emotions to run wild and imagine BIG.

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.” ~Albert Einstein

“Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing there is a field. I'll meet you there.” ~Rumi

The Drought

2007-08-15T09:27:00.000-04:00

It's August and I'm stunned to feel my clothes getting a little tighter. But surly I'm not putting on my winter layer of insulation already. I must be having a highly sensitive month. One of the constants in our lives that, due to my sensitivity, seems to have a profound effect on me is the weather. So until it rains here in Northern Michigan, which it has not done in over a month, I'm just retaining water. My body is simply responding to this dry spell by becoming the camel.
Yeah, right! Pass the marshmallows, please.

It's Not Fair

2007-08-06T14:58:00.000-04:00

I can't believe that on August 5, our regional fair began. It's not right! Growing up in this area, my recollection of the fair was that of the autumn bounty and harvest. That people and animals were comforted by the cool, crisp days and nights at the fairgrounds. We wore a sweater when we went over for evening dinner. Today, the fair near my home is experiencing drought conditions and record heat. I have not visited yet and I hope for rain before I roam the grounds to choke on the dust.

I expect this is all about money. The fair has become another summer attraction for the many tourists who flock to Northern Michigan. In the days of my youth, the fair was a time to celebrate the end of sumer and that hectic tourist season. It was a time to visit with neighbors and take advantage of the delicious meals the local churches cooked up each evening. Each church had their specialty dinner and over the course of the week I could taste them all.

Did I mention that I could ride my bike to the fair? And that a pass for the week was a reasonable way to enjoy meeting my friends and taking in all the different activities each evening? Today I must drive to the outskirts of town and wait in line to be directed to my parking spot in a dirty, dusty field. I can only afford to visit one day so I miss many of the activities that are spread out over the course of the week.

And dinner at today's fair is carnival food. Oh, I enjoy a good corn dog and Gibby's French Fries once in awhile. But it's a far cry from the fried chicken, hot roast beef sandwiches, fried fish, homemade pies, real mashed potatoes, locally-grown and harvested vegetables and local dairy milk that I enjoyed each night at the fair of my youth.

If It Ain't Broke...

2007-07-12T09:59:00.004-04:00

Last month I went to one of my favorite fish camps for a week of very serious fishing. At the end of 28 hours in the boat, my partner, Yvon, and I had caught 447 Northern Pike and Walleye. That's one fish in the boat every 3.75 minutes. Amazing!

The number of fish we caught is, indeed, amazing. Even more extraordinary is that we did it with only two lures. My lure was a red spoon with black dots. Now it is missing a lot of paint. Yvon's lure was a gold spoon with red tips. There's no paint left on his lure and one hook is missing.

One might suggest that both those lures are now broken. And we could repair them until they are perfect and flawless. Today, however, I prefer to think of those two lures as not broken but, instead, excellent. So we're not "fixing" them. They've been retired to the fireplace mantel and we're just being with them in another way. They inspire conversation and whimsical memories. They make me smile. They make me laugh. They make me dance. I'll take those two damaged and excellent lures over a pair of perfect lures any day. To me, they're still beautiful. In fact, I doubt anything we find truly beautiful is perfect.

How about you? Are you striving for perfection or enjoying the excellence in your life?

"Live life fully while you're here. Experience everything. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so you might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes. Find the cause of your problems and eliminate t. Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human." ~Anthony Robbins

"If the world was perfect, it wouldn't be." ~Yogi Berra

No Berries in Michigan--Heading North

2007-07-02T09:32:00.000-04:00

I'm stunned that it is already July. It seems I was just picking huckleberries and blueberries around my Michigan home. But that was July 2006. This year I'm going to have to pick my berries in Northern Ontario. The berries around my home have suffered from the drought. We're getting rain now. Quite a bit, actually. But for this year's crop, it's a little too late. So I'll just wander farther north. I know where to go. And rain has been good to some of my favorite spots up there. The water level in my fishing lakes is one to two feet higher this year over last July.

I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. The more time I find for my favorite leisures, the more grounded I become. I'm amazed and impressed with my ability and desire to do little and, consequently, more.

Down to Earth

2007-06-17T18:17:00.001-04:00

Often our heads are way too far away from the earth, spending much of our time in thoughts, dreams, visions and plans, intoxicating and diverting us from more present and earthly endeavors. We think too much about other's opinions and seek approval. We think too much about what might be right or wrong for us. From this rootless perspective of our heads, we exaggerate our problems, imagining more and worse than is really there. We become dramatic and obsessive. Our ungrounded minds wander off and create chaos, causing our bodies to feel restless and edgy. We run around in a haphazard way, locking our keys in the car, dialing wrong numbers and leaving our wallets at the last establishment we visited. Our "ungroundedness" disturbs everyone in our path.

The moments of the present, of the earth, the ground, can seem mundane compared to the apparently limitless mind. But being grounded, literally, is what enables us to cast aside our heady visions and embrace our truth at the moment, giving us the freedom we need to be present and more alive.

The earth is there to support us. During these great summer months, find it, touch it and use it.

Spread out in a freshly mowed lawn

Nap on the pine needle bedding of a pine forest

Wiggle your body through the warm sand of a summer beach

Lay back against a sun-warmed rock

Smear on some cooling creek or river clay

Plop in a mud puddle

Lounge on a bed of moss

“God owns heaven, but He craves the earth.” ~Anne Sexton

“My soul can find no staircase to Heaven unless it be through Earth's loveliness.” ~Michelangelo Buonarroti

Grounded

2007-06-15T14:15:00.002-04:00

It's the beautiful month of June in Northern Michigan and Northern Ontario. This summer, I'm pretty much splitting my time between the two. The more time I find for my favorite leisures, the more grounded I become. I'm amazed and impressed with my ability and desire to do little and, consequently, more.

Lately I've been appreciating the Earth, literally. The lower I get, the more I like it.

Surprise!

2007-05-21T17:48:00.000-04:00

As a coach, it's always gratifying to hear a client enumerate all the things he or she has accomplished. But last month, when one of my clients told me, “I've become accustomed to being surprised,” well, it just made me thrilled and proud.

Surprises, yes, can be as unwelcome as waking up to three inches of snow in the middle of May or some other hurtful onslaught. But most often, a surprise is an unexpected feeling of wonder and astonishment that has been triggered by something we have come upon suddenly. Sometimes it can be startling, but generally we think of surprise as something good. There may be disbelief, but surprises are usually enveloped in amazement. And what a great way to be, expecting and becoming accustomed to being surprised. Surprises make our life so much more special.

For me, May is the month of surprises. It's morel mushroom season and so I spend even more time in the woods around my home. Any other month of the year, you can find me walking the dogs for an hour or two each day. During May, I clear the calendar a couple of days each week and take to the woods from sunup to sundown. So while racking up all that time and all those miles in the woods, I have plenty of opportunity to be surprised by wildlife, both flora and fauna, rarely seen. And I'm on the hunt for the elusive morel, never knowing when I'm going to walk around the other side of a tree and be surprised by a jumbo white morel. Or a whole patch of them!

There's something instinctual or intuitional about finding morels. Most often, I have a sense, a physical feeling, in my gut and heart, just prior to making the discovery. I notice I slow my pace and breathing and become more alert. I've noticed the same intensity just before a fish hits my lure. I've learned how to detect the oncoming surprises at a cellular level that does not take away from the surprise but, instead, enhances it.

You can too. We're all capable of having these feelings or “hints” prior to being surprised. Most of us, however, don't notice them because we haven't practiced. When we practice an activity that involves hunting or searching for something, we more frequently have the opportunity to notice what we were feeling and sensing just prior to the discovery. Go on the hunt, I suggest. And become accustomed to being surprised.

“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” ~Ashley Montagu

”Surprise is the greatest gift which life can grant us.” ~Boris Pasternak

Fishing Focus

2007-05-18T17:36:00.002-04:00

I'm leaving on Wednesday for fish camp. The car is almost packed with fishing gear and clothes. All that's left is to toss in the cooler and the dogs. The house sitter notes are complete. I may or may not get the lawn mowed but I don't much care.

I talked to the camp yesterday and the big surprise was three inches of snow and a high of 27 degrees. The camp owner's truck slipped on the icy two track into town, missed a turn and went airborne for about 12 feet. The damage was a couple of dents in his pickup and one shot tire. The water pipes to the cabins and shower house are frozen.

I, on the other hand, am looking for more pleasant surprises. I know of a couple of hot spots for morel mushrooms. And I hear from those who are already at camp that the walleye are biting fast and furious and averaging 4-5 pounds. Yummy!

Success

2007-04-14T09:51:00.002-04:00

While I was looking for some inspiration from anything but this weather, I noticed my friend Rasheed had a birthday on April 8th. I remembered that I had edited some of my previous writings into an article for a book he was compiling on the topic of success. Happy Birthday, Rasheed!

Too often, we see success as an outcome. When we have amassed a certain number of toys, dollars, possession, then we are successful. But true success is not our possessions. Our success comes from our choice of rhythm. As we learn our own rhythm or cadence, changing it in a heartbeat when we feel the urge, we learn to listen and flow. When a creek encounters resistance, like a rock, a downed tree or a beaver dam, it does not go through that block. The creek changes its rhythm and stays in flow by going around, over and underneath the resistance. What is my suggestion for true success? Go stand in a creek and …

…Surrender:
Surrender control rather than seize it. Let go and trust. A life full of preparation for situations that are yet only imagined is not much of a life at all.

…Step into the Unknown:
Step fully, freely and without hesitation into the unknown. To become comfortable with the unknown is to experience freedom. To make the leap without all the answers, to step into the darkness without expectation of what is to come, to embrace the unknown as a place in which we wallow, rest and soak up our inner essence is incredibly powerful. The unknown is where your imagination can take hold. And it's imagination that transcends time and place.

…Focus on Enough:
When enough truly is enough, what we desire moves in and out of our life naturally. There is enough for us; there is enough for everyone. We have the ability and freedom to nurture others and ourselves. When we appreciate the enough-ness in our lives, our enough-ness appreciates.

…Be a Child in Nature:
Nature is authentic. It is exactly what it seems to be. Be a grownup if you must. But be a grownup who knows the secrets children know. Go to the wilds.

…Be Without Goals:
If you're saying, “I’ll be dancing lightly when I achieve my goals,” you're missing out. Dance lightly now. Step into your delight, happiness, joy and let success find you. Life is a process, not a product. No stop along the way or altered path is a mistake. Turn your back on the product, the outcome, the goal, and pay attention to enjoying the process, the hunt. Then the elusive will present itself. It always does. It has no choice.

…Hone Your Skills at Being Lost:
The gift we receive from being lost is new, unexpected and random things like unforeseen circumstances, interesting people and odd surroundings. It stimulates us. If we can let go of being threatened simply because we are lost, we learn to not waste our energy panicking about the direction we should take.

…Take on Opportunities Rather than Musing about Possibilities:
Yes, we can remain on the creek bank and discuss and wonder at the possibilities. But the creek is going somewhere. There are trees, streams, rocks and trails on the other side waiting to be explored. There are fish to be caught! There are people along the creek who have stories to tell about their own opportunities taken. Find the opportunity in the possibility and take it.

…Relish Imperfection:
When we let go of perfection, allow ourselves to do things imperfectly, we come to see how perfect we are, just the way we are. It's a subtle difference but it's true. Our lives can be more perfect when we let go of perfection.

…Be Freely Vulnerable:
What excites me is the freedom inherent in every new beginning. What scares me is that I am vulnerable. Yet I can't separate the two. If I'm to be free, I'm to be vulnerable. I become energized by the possibility of freedom that a new beginning brings. When I seek to lessen the inherent vulnerability in a new beginning by trying to cover all the contingencies, I actually diminish my freedom and the new beginning becomes too small for me. Our lives and work must envelop vulnerable freedom or they come down to nothing more than a means of providing.

…Become Intuitive:
Trust your intuition and your dreams. See the unlikely. Think the unthinkable. Imagine the improbable. Life's biggest opportunities are often hidden to all but our intuition.

Still Snow

2007-04-08T09:31:00.002-04:00

Last month I mentioned the many ways I enjoy Maple Syrup. I want to add another to the list. I've met an expert crepe maker. Who'd have guessed there were so many hidden talents hanging out at fish camp? I spent nine days ice fishing in Northern Ontario. The lakes were well frozen and there was little snow in the bush. It was seemingly perfect. What more could I ask for? Then I discovered one of my fishing partners makes the best crepes I've ever eaten. Now, crepes smothered with fresh pineapple and maple syrup has bubbled to the top of my Maple Syrup List.

I brought home from Canada another load of rocks. I can't bring back many onany one trip because I pretty much fill the Jeep with fishing equipment, clothes, food and dogs. But I always manage to bring a few and slowly I'm getting a nice rock border around the front flower garden. I’d take a picture of my rocks and show you how pretty this batch is but I had not yet unloaded them from the Jeep when our most recent snowstorm hit. Now there's no place to put them. They're still in the Jeep and as soon as we get bare ground I hope I’ll have them placed.

This snow has slowed me down. Usually the ever-changing weather and my environment prompt me to write. I love the forward movement from month to month. In December, snow piled high excited and encouraged me. In April, I'm not so enthused. On my walks, I can't believe I'm still slogging through knee-deep snow. I want to walk lightly and see a crocus.

But then, weather like this means anything can happen. And that's the kind of life I want to live; one where anything can happen.

Yikes!

2007-04-06T18:13:00.002-04:00

My Backyard on April 8

Well, I thought it was Spring. But here we are in early April and I'm sitting in about 2 feet of snow in 48 hours. What's that all about!? I was just beginning to think about some Morel Mushroom hunting. Now it feels more like Christmas than Easter. Just April Fools a few days late, I guess.

The dogs and I are warm and somewhat happy. We're hunkering down. I've put a fire in the fireplace and I'm cooking some venison chili for dinner. Not my normal April activities and fare but, alas, when in Rome...

Sweet, Sweet March! It's Maple Syrup Time!

2007-03-25T13:02:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite quick changes in a Northern Michigan March is the rise in temperatures during the days that launch the maple syrup season, when maple sap runs through the sugar bush to strategically placed sugar shacks. In the very old days, native people cut a hole in the Sugar Maple. They attached a wood shaving on the bottom of the hole in order to direct the maple sap towards a bark container. Later, sap dribbled into covered metal buckets or pails. Today, most sugar shacks are equipped with sophisticated plastic tubing. The maple sap follows the tubing from tree to tree and ultimately into a storage tank. At the sugar shack, the sap is boiled down until it becomes maple syrup.

Maple syrup is a true treasure because the maple sap can only be collected during the cold and brief six weeks from early March to mid-April. And, on average, a Sugar Maple will yield 40 gallons of maple sap each year, which boils down to only one gallon of maple syrup.

I'm looking forward to my annual spring binge; namely, maple syrup on my morning pancakes, waffles and French toast, maple syrup drizzled over cooking bacon and breakfast sausage, maple sticky buns, maple glazed carrots, maple butter, and the traditional March treat, hot, thick maple syrup drizzled over snow.

Quick Change

2007-03-15T12:33:00.004-04:00

The very cool thing about March in the north is the incredibly quick change in the weather, wildlife and woods. One day it's blustery winter with freezing temperatures, snow and ice. And a few days later, the roads are bared by 50 degree temperatures. One day, I take my walk in silence, noting only the animal tracks upon the snow. A few days later the racket is deafening, as the forest comes alive with darting forms emerging from dens and trees and brush piles. One day the trees and bushes look dead, and only a few days later there are green buds emerging. One day the snow banks are piled high around my home, and only a few days later the driveway has turned into a real gully washer.

These days I look forward to dramatic and quick changes. To me, quick changes always mean things are going to crack wide open and get even better, fast! I no longer dread and avoid quick changes, even though they require that I catch up, sometimes adjusting who I believe I am and what I want, on a dime. The feeling is a bit like being swept into the next change, rather than taking charge and making it happen on my own timetable. I lose control. But what a relief that can be, when changes are spontaneous and things bigger than I can conceive of or would have planned happen.

Standing Out

2007-02-11T12:02:00.002-05:00

Ah, February. I look out my window and see nothing but white. Or so it seems in this frozen month. But that's impossible I say and so I challenge myself to see the color. And ever so slowly, the whole host of browns that have been there all along emerges as I notice tree trunks. Then, immediately, my eyes are drawn to the pines and firs and I notice the green that has also always been there. Nothing has changed except my perception of February and the way I choose to notice. The birds of my yard this time of year are mostly chickadees. But with my new eyes, their black caps stand out. Not quite color, but certainly a contrast to all the white. And oh, yes, down by the creek, still hanging on to their branches, are some dried, but red, Michigan Holly berries. And for at least today, the sky is bright blue.

I'm inspired. The vibrant colors of spring and summer remain buried deep. But all is not lost in this month of February. So I go to my closet and don the most colorful winter clothing I own. Teal green long underwear, a bright red turtleneck, my yellow sweater, and my yellow and purple knit hat and matching scarf immediately create in me joy and delight. And look, there are my yellow sunglasses!

I'm off on my daily walk, today in search of more color. Perhaps I'll see a Pileated or Red-Headed Woodpecker, a Downy or Hairy Woodpecker. And should I find nothing more colorful than my February attire, perhaps then it's my lighthearted obligation today to bring to the world around me the color I seek. After all, unlike my ancient ancestors, I am no longer the prey of things bigger, wild and ferocious. I can afford to stand out.

"It amazes me how over the years we are repeatedly aware of the need to be reminded, or to come again with fresh, or new or developed eyes to the sense of 'Who am I?', and 'What do I stand for?', 'What matters?', 'What is the gift that I bring to bear on what matters?'" ~Liana Taylor www.lifeintelligence.com.au

How Low Can You Go?

2007-01-23T15:58:00.000-05:00

Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are. ~Chinese Proverb

What a strange winter it has been so far in Northern Michigan. We only have two inches of snow, which we acquired just last night. And we have not had any snow on the ground since around the first of December. As I waked through the woods each day, the paths made by me and the dogs are so very clear. And the paths made by the deer are even more evident. Without the snow and with the undergrowth dormant, the earth around me is experiencing low-level stress. It's sad. The stress is nothing the earth won't survive, but it's there. And the impact on vegetation will last long into this new year.

So as I walk, I think why would it be any different for us? We all know immediate and sudden stress when we experience it. Our body rises to a challenge and prepares to meet the situation. But lasting low-level stress can sometimes be elusive and go unnoticed for a long time until we find ourselves, like the little patch of earth around my home, exposed. Signs that we have low-level stress in our life often manifest in the form of feeling constantly hurried, moodiness, allergies, and sleeping problems. The earth around me this winter is definitely having a sleeping problem.

Some of the common causes of low-level stress are relationship problems, crammed schedules, a minor health problem as simple as a sore body part or a change in vision that has not been addressed yet, and constant but subtle noise. These can be little things, but they eat away at us each day.

I've said it many times. And at the risk of being overly repetitive, I hesitate to say it again. But you all know me well enough to forgive my rants so here it is. Resolutions tend to cause stress. So if you're going to make one in 2007, make one to reduce the low-level stress in your life. As 2007 unfolds, take a stand:
Leave loads of open space in your schedule.
Allow yourself to be imperfect.
Get more than enough sleep.
Notice your little thoughts and make them good ones.
Solve little problems quickly.
Breathe deeply.
Tend to a little patch of earth around you. You both will benefit.
And blow the stink off by walking the path less traveled.

Have an outstanding 2007.

As I like to do, I thought I would share with you a quote or two about the topic. So I went on a quick search for quotes about stress. Oh my, there's a lot written. So here's a little reminder for each month of the upcoming year.

January 2007
The man who doesn't relax and hoot a few hoots voluntarily, now and then, is in great danger of hooting hoots and standing on his head for the edification of the pathologist and trained nurse, a little later on. ~Elbert Hubbard

February 2007
Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths. ~Etty Hillesum

March 2007
Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down. ~Natalie Goldberg

April 2007
Sometimes it's important to work for that pot of gold. But other times it's essential to take time off and to make sure that your most important decision in the day simply consists of choosing which color to slide down on the rainbow. ~Douglas Pagels, These Are the Gifts I'd Like to Give to You

May 2007
The mark of a successful man is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it. ~Author Unknown

June 2007
Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save. ~Will Rogers

July 2007
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. ~J. Lubbock

August 2007
To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace. ~Milan Kundera

September 2007
Slow down and everything you are chasing will come around and catch you. ~John De Paola

October 2007
How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then to rest afterward. ~Spanish Proverb

November 2007
Loafing needs no explanation and is its own excuse. ~Christopher Morley

December 2007
There is precious little hope to be got out of whatever keeps us industrious, but there is a chance for us whenever we cease work and become stargazers. ~H.M. Tomlinson

December Nights

2006-12-08T13:02:00.001-05:00

While I've been pushing more snow out of the driveway than I care to this time of year, I'm so appreciative of that same snow during these nights of the full moon. Full moon nights are beautiful no matter the time of year. And the additional brightness caused by the snow's reflection makes sleep seem inappropriate. I'm called to move outside in the middle of the night and chase shadows in the snow.

Both December and night are often used as metaphors to describe the end; usually, the end of one's life. After last night, I'm no longer sure the metaphor fits. The woods around my house at 2:00 a.m. on a December, full-moon night is very much alive. The bright moon reflecting off the new snow allowed me to see that there's a lot going on at night in December.
The animal tracks alone were amazing, from the tiniest of mouse tracks to the bigger tracks of the deer and coyote. These tracks were crossing each others’ paths with such seeming purpose that I felt there was some sort of sophisticated traffic pattern I was not privy to. In the open field near my home, I found the wing tracks of what was likely an owl that had swooped down to pluck a rabbit.
In the bright stillness, I could hear every grunt, groan, snap and crack. All my senses were turned up a notch. And I was excited to perhaps see what might emerge from the shadows rather than fearful of what was lurking within them. So that's the full-moon, December night metaphor I'd rather embrace. Enjoy all your Decembers and all your nights.
See you on the flip side of 2006.
Love
Deb
“There will come a time when you think everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L’Amour

I Can Do That!

2006-11-19T13:19:00.002-05:00

There was a time when I would not have believed it was possible to spend the equivalent of almost 3 months fishing. Now that it has happened, it seems easy and I'm gladly looking forward to more than 100 days of fishing on my favorite lakes in 2007.

Possibilities are like that. All it takes is a small experience of what can happen, and the seemingly impossible becomes suddenly and easily possible. For me, it starts with taking just one small action and then another, no matter how small, on the possibility. Soon I notice that I'm moving out of the arena of possibilities and into reality. Often, a possibility like 80 days of fishing seems just a little too far fetched in the beginning. More likely, I can't even envision it. So I only focus on taking the little opportunities as they present themselves. I was able to see each opportunity as it came to me, 5 days here, 10 days there. I just took those smaller opportunities and let the 80 day happen in the background.

It does, however, take some practice in order to see and take the opportunities. First, look for the unusual patterns in your life and stay open to those patterns. Is something unusual or unexpected coming up for you often lately? Actually invite that unexpected. Then, when you do recognize an unexpected opportunity, trust your body. Don't let your mind reason you out of the opportunity. For instance, your mind may say you don't deserve another week off. And what you think and believe about yourself and what you deserve determines your emotions and behavior. So you don't take time off. Then that behavior validates what you think and believe about yourself and the possibility disappears. You're body however will likely be excited about the good opportunities. So listen to it and let it lead you.

You can do that!! Just one little opportunity at a time. We contain within ourselves infinite possibilities.

“Impossible is a word humans use far too often.” ~Jeri Ryan

The Intimacy of September

2006-09-20T08:36:00.003-04:00

How was your summer? Outstanding, I hope.

In May, I fished Northern Ontario 14 days in two trips. I mowed the lawn once.
In June, I had Jeep failure and didn't fish at all. I picked a rash of blueberries. I mowed the lawn twice. Was a nasty pattern forming here?
In July I fished Northern Ontario 12 days. I mowed the lawn once.
In August I fished Northern Ontario for 15 glorious days. And I mowed the lawn only once.
This month I’ll be back up for two weeks. I've already mowed the lawn.

Ah, September. It's my favorite time of the year. My flower garden has dulled to browns and just a few yellows from the lingering Black-eyed Susan. But the backyard along the creek bank is in full bloom with goldenrod and wild aster. Yellow and lavender grace the perimeter. The Shaggy Manes are popping up in the yard and I'm devouring them as fast as they dare show themselves.

In September, as the yellow school bus once again winds its way down the road, I get the urge to get things around the house and yard completed and put away. As the autumnal equinox approaches here in the northern hemisphere, as the sun crosses the celestial equator and night and day become nearly the same length, I too feel the balance.

There's something familiar and meaningful about September. It's the time of year I feel most intimate with others, myself, and the things around me. The frivolity of summer has ended and with September comes the urge to push my roots a little deeper. I feel warm friendship with those around me. I feel cozy in my surroundings. I'm less interested in declaring my desires, as I had all summer, and much more interested in discovering what my desires want of me.

The intimacy of my September reflections and conversations brings me closer to others as those conversations and thoughts become more intellectual, spiritual and emotional. I'm enjoying those deeper connections. I hope you are too. Trust me, September is safe.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot

Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits. ~Samuel Butler

It's The Berries, Continued

2006-08-29T13:40:00.004-04:00

Suddenly the days are much cooler. How did that happen? One minute we were sweltering in record heat and then the next thing I know, the nights have become wonderfully crisp. The air is dry. Plants in the garden are starting to brown. The summer daisies that lined the country roads near my home are being replaced by the more autumnal Black-eyed Susan. I can hear the occasional chain saw, the first sign that some of us are preparing for fall and winter. Families are scrambling for one more holiday before school begins. The county fair is in full swing. And I'm enjoying evening campfires in the backyard without mosquitoes!

As you may recall, I had ended June here in Northern Michigan with a bumper crop of blueberries picked and frozen. At the end of July I headed for Northern Ontario where I traveled just far enough north that I was back into prime blueberry season. Oh my, I hadn't planned on picking more blueberries. I went to fish after all. But I'm a harvester at heart. And whether it's fish or berries, when the opportunity presents itself I can't help but act. This time, I didn't freeze berries. It was nice not feeling the responsibility to “put up” my harvest but, instead, without the kitchen facilities of home, allow myself to indulge and fill my belly with berries every day. And thanks to all of your responses to my June newsletter, I had plenty of recipes to choose from.

So here's a sampling of my fish camp berry fare. I hope you have the opportunity to enjoy them as much as I have.

From Patt Osborne...
BLUEBERRY DAIQUIRI
1 cup frozen blues
1/2 cup light rum (or more…depending on the mood and circumstances
1/2 lime-juiced
1/2 cup crushed ice
1/4 cup superfine sugar
In a blender, combine all ingredients for about 30 seconds. Pour into a chilled glass.
My Comment: There was no blender at camp but I did just fine by shaking vigorously.

From Shelly K...
">BLUEBERRY BUCKLE
3/4 c. sugar
1/4 c. butter
1 egg
3/4 c. milk
2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
2 c. blueberries
Topping:
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 c. soft butter
Mix topping ingredients in a small bowl. Set aside.
Beat together sugar and butter. When mixture becomes light, add egg and beat.
Sift together dry ingredients on a piece of waxed paper. Pour half of dry ingredients into bowl, add milk and remaining dry ingredients.
Stir together until combined, do not over mix. Sprinkle berries on top and stir in.
Sprinkle on topping and bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes.

From My Mom...
BLUEBERRY SLUMP
1 qt. blueberries
1/4 c. water
1/2 c. sugar
Dumplings:
1 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
2 tbs. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/3 c. milk
2 tbs. oil
In a 2-quart saucepan, bring the blueberries, water and sugar to a boil. Lightly mix together all dumpling ingredients. Drop dumpling dough by spoonfuls into the boiling berries. Cover and cook for 20 minutes over moderate heat. Serves 4.

From Denise M...
BLUEBERRY COBBLER
1 stick butter
3 to 4 c. fresh blueberries
1 c. water
1 c. sugar
3/4 c. self-rising flour
3/4 c. milk
1 c. sugar
Melt the butter in an 8 or 9 inch square pan. Put blueberries in pan with water and 1 cup sugar. Leave on burner. Simmer while making crust. Mix the flour, milk and 1 cup sugar together. Mix well. Pour over blueberries. Bake 1 hour at 350 degrees. Check all along to see if juice is cooking out. If so, add a little water to keep cobbler juicy. Serve with ice cream.

From Me...
BLUEBERRY PANCAKES
1 c. blueberries
1 egg
1 c. milk
1/2 c. melted butter
1 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
2 tbs. sugar
3/4 tsp. salt
Combine egg, milk and butter. Sift dry ingredients and add to egg mixture. Beat. Drop on lightly greased griddle, sprinkle about 2 tablespoons berries over each cake. Turn when bubbly and browned.
BLUEBERRY PANCAKE SYRUP:
2 cups blueberries
1 cup light corn syrup or maple syrup
dash of salt
Mash blueberries until somewhat smooth. In saucepan, combine berries, syrup and salt. Bring to boil and cook for 7-10 minutes, stirring gently, or until thickened.

And finally, suggestions from Karla K., who seems to have a bit of a blueberry fetish...
"Blueberry yogurt, blueberry custard, blueberry scones, blueberry waffles, blueberry smoothies, blueberry ice cream, blueberry sauce, blueberry jam/jelly, blueberry juice, blueberry crepes, blueberry syrup, blueberry/pecan french toast, blueberry cheesecake, blueberry blintzes, blueberry tarts, blueberry & honey pecan salad, blueberry coffee cake, blueberry daiquiri, blueberry fruit ice, ... and my all time favorite, plain ol' blueberries with milk/cream and sugar (in a bowl) -- that's all from me!"

"Better than any argument is to rise at dawn and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup."
"I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods."
"I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."
"We learn from our gardens to deal with the most urgent question of the time: How much is enough?"
~Wendell Berry

Arriving At Camp

2006-08-15T13:33:00.001-04:00

Well, I finally did it. I got the Jeep's transmission problem solved, paid for, and created the freedom to spend 12 days of July at one of my favorite fish camps in N. Ontario. Cameron Lake Fishing Lodges, Inc. Whew. I'm feeling oh so much better.

It's The Berries

2006-07-02T13:25:00.002-04:00

The last week of June my Jeep took a nosedive and I canceled my N. Ontario fishing trip while I waited for a new transmission. Spending a few thousand dollars on something as boring as a new transmission and hanging close to home was not what I had planned for any week this summer. It was the pits! Although, I have had some curious lifestyle insights as I look at things close up and close to home.

Have you heard the term “food miles?” Food miles is the distance a food travels from where it is grown to your plate. The term food miles is used to address the energy consumption and carbon dioxide emissions (contributing to climate change) attached with each food we purchase.

And I do my share of adding on the food miles. From my home, it’s a 16-mile round trip to the nearest grocery store. And if I were to count the food miles it takes me to collect the fish I eat all year long, it would be an astronomical number.

But during my week without transportation, I turned to the “groceries” close to home. The area around my home is loaded with wild berries. I’m delighted by just about all berries, straw (last month), blue (this month), and black and rasp (next month) are my favorites. Blueberries in particular, according to those who are more health conscious than I, will keep me living perhaps much longer than I want. Now maybe the anti-oxidant property of blueberries is just propaganda, but if they’re free and they taste great right off the bush, then why not? The rain we’ve had in June has made this year’s crop of blueberries big, juicy and sweet. I’ve already picked and frozen enough to get me through an entire year.

Unfortunately, the dogs are also partial to the berries. I will have just found a nice patch for picking, settle in with my bucket, and one or both of the dogs will come grazing through and strip berries off the plants like they were machines made for the task. What they might have missed, is left all slobbery on the bush. Then my pups sit at an inappropriately close distance to me and not so quietly hack up the leaves that got caught in their throats during their berry pillage.

I was at the bank the other day, rearranging finances in order to pay for my new transmission, when I mentioned to Shelly, my new savior in the transmission incident, that I would be drowning in blueberries if I didn’t get the Jeep back on the road soon. Between the two of us, we came up with seven ways to prepare blueberries; blueberry muffins, blueberry pancakes, blueberry pie, blueberry slump, blueberry cobbler, blueberry crisp and blueberry buckle. I’m looking for more, so feel free to send them on.

All in all, it’s has not a bad way to spend some forced time off.

“I think it's always best to be who you are.” ~Halle Berry

“You can say any foolish thing to do to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, 'My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!'” ~Dave Berry

“Don't let the same dog bite you twice.” ~Chuck Berry

What's Your Hurry?

2006-06-11T11:28:00.002-04:00

I've puttered the weekend away. I weeded the garden, cut some fresh flowers for the house, moved some gravel in the driveway, washed some windows, and spent quite a bit of time in the hammock reading. I must admit I felt occasional twinges of guilt about my indulgence, but not enough to overcome my pleasure.

Around all this self-imposed down time, I shuttled canoeists who were paddling the Manistee River near my home. The “put-in” was not too bad. They picked me up at my home about 5:30 on Friday evening, bought me dinner, and we drove to their put-in campsite. That night, they camped and I brought their vehicle home with me. Reportedly, they were on the river by 5:30 Saturday morning. The “take-out” was another story. My phone rang about 11:30 Saturday night. They were ready to be picked up as they had decided to do the entire weekend trip in one spurt, 100 miles in less than 24 hours. I got up, dressed, made a pot of coffee and headed for the take-out landing.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was full and casting shadows. It was a crisp night and the fog was settling in. At the take-out, I could hear a partridge drumming. And the deer were everywhere. I can only imagine how beautiful it must have been paddling that river after dark. I've paddled at night before. It's truly an exotic and eerie experience. But most of my night paddling has been out of necessity, to escape a bear who has made my camp his home or because the fish were biting.

And truly, I can only imagine the beauty these paddlers experienced, because they were too tired to talk about it. I'm totally confused as to why a group of good friends would want to spend a whole day and half a night on the river without hardly speaking or seeing each other and subjecting themselves to the food one must eat while moving in a canoe without the benefit of a campfire. They didn't even paddle together as the group arrived at the take-out over the course of the next four hours.

Many of us do the same thing in our daily lives. We push and strive to get somewhere, to get ahead, to beat the clock in some way, to attain something, to make good on a promise. And when we reach our destination we have little or no memory of the experience because we've often taken it on alone or, in our haste, left our partners behind. We're stiff and tired. We are even too tired to share our experience with anyone as the thought of restoration is the only thing that permeates our mind.

Today, I'm enjoying a beautiful Sunday morning with more of the same quiet reflection and small chores ahead of me. I imagine my canoeing friends are sound asleep. Any day, I’ll take the sweet obsessions that wander through my thoughts and daydreams over the mania that now demands their dreamless sleep.

“One of the great disadvantages of hurry is that it takes such a long time.” ~G. K. Chesterton

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” ~Winnie the Pooh

“Nature does not hurry. Yet everything is accomplished.” ~Lao Tzu

The Portage Trail

2006-05-20T12:01:00.002-04:00

I named my business Portage because I love backcountry canoeing and fishing. And my favorite part of these backcountry activities is portaging from one lake to another, either to continue my canoeing route or to find the next great fishing lake.

Portage means carrying a canoe or boat over land to avoid a water obstacle like rapids or a waterfall or to get from one navigable water body to another. I found the definition a wonderful metaphor for what I do as a coach.

As a coach, I help folks navigate their personal transitions, from where they are at the moment to where they want to be and, at the same time, discover and deal with the obstacles they need to go around.

Portaging generally requires unloading the boat or canoe and carrying it and its contents over the portage trail. If it's a portage that many have taken before you, the path can be quite clear of obstacles and easy to navigate. On other portages a trail must be blazed and the terrain can be very difficult.

As a coach, I do the same, helping my clients decide what they want to take with them on their next transition and what no longer serves them and is best left behind. I help you find the path that others may have taken before. And if there is no similar path, I help you blaze a new trail.

To portage efficiently, a tump line on your pack, which goes around your forehead, and a yoke or tump line on your canoe are valued tools. The tump line sounds awkward but with the bearing of your load beginning at your forehead, it helps distribute that weight evenly and efficiently down your spine. It's incredibly more efficient than having your load begin at your shoulders. This is the way the early voyageurs and natives managed their portages.
I guess I could have named my business Tump Line or Yoke as a metaphor for those things that make the Portage easier, but they're not very pretty words. You'd all be laughing and the “yoke” would be on me. But as a coach, I do have a wealth of "tools" to help you transition with the least amount of discomfort.

Portages can be very short as in a few rods or meters to many miles or kilometers in length. And all portages, by their nature, are the result of elevation changes. Either the destination lake is higher or lower than the one you are leaving, or the land between two bodies of water rises and falls, or, as in the case of a river, the elevation of the river changes dramatically creating swift rapids or a waterfall that must be safely portaged around. This results in all portages involving some climbing and/or descending.

This is not unlike a personal transition, although the elevation changes are emotional rather than physical. I've discovered over the years that there are four distinct stages in every transition. First is the stage I call Discomfort where one is reluctant, fearful, uncertain and often reactive and edgy. The second stage I call
Going Internal but it is no less emotional as one becomes more contemplative, protective, spiritual, and often detached and withdrawn. Can you picture the portage trail? So far it's an uphill trek with a heavy load. In the
third stage, Exploration, we begin to feel like we have some direction. We're beginning to crest the peak of the portage trail and we can often look ahead instead of constantly down at our feet in order to avoid pitfalls. We find new reserves of energy and become optimistic, confident and even eager. This is the stage where our vision for the future begins to emerge, much like reaching the peak of the portage trail. And the final and fourth stage is Renaissance. We become committed and creative as everything begins to feel possible. We move at a faster pace. On the portage trail, this is the wonderful downhill stage where the new vista is clearly in front of you and your load is lighter as you shift from trudging uphill to flowing downhill.

The thing to remember about portages, as in transitions, is that Renaissance feels like it will last forever. But sooner or later we become restless. Then we find ourselves looking for the next portage and the newness it holds at the other end.

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." ~Ralph Waldo
Emerson

Thanks for listening and humoring me this month. See you on the Portage.

Transitions

2006-04-19T15:52:00.000-04:00

I'm fresh back from our Life Transitions retreat in the Virgin Islands. What a wonderful group of adventurous individuals we had this year. My co-host, Patt Osborne, and I would like to thank all who attended. This one was the best ever.

So, as you can imagine, I still had transitions in mind when I sat down to write and so I thought I’d share some of the things we learned at the 2006 Rest of Your Life Retreat.

So in celebration of my 10th year of Transition Coaching...

"It's never too late to become what you might have been." ~George Eliot

Transitions can be as soft as a whisper or as loud as an earthquake.

Sometimes a transition starts as an internal shift, as in a new way of looking at things. Sometimes, a transition is brought on by external forces like a job transfer or loss of someone near to you.

Every transition is accompanied by a shift in the way we identify ourselves. If we plan the transition, the identity shift is often a prelude to the actual, physical changes in our life. If the transition is driven by outside forces, our identity is often forced to catch up. Either way, a big part of every transition is reconciling our old beliefs with our new identity

Using our intuition is critical to a smooth transition. We can transition more deeply and more profoundly by paying very close attention to our intuitive insights, that inner voice of our authentic desires.

When we allow our desires, and allow ourselves to become one who already has whatever it is we're wanting, we bring more of our authentic selves to the transition. These desires provide direction and clues to our path, a path where what we want includes who we are.

In that moment when we allow our desires to come from our authenticity, our transition ceases to come from us, but rather through us. We must then, be receptive to something greater.

Often, in the process of “acting on” our transition, the creative option of “allowing” ourselves to be receptive to that greater force is missed.

We merely must wait and be attentive to its arrival of that which we desire.

It is far more beautiful, graceful and gratifying to become attractive and receive than to chase things.

Slow down, tune in, and heed the inner call. As you transition, be ready, willing, and able to accept your new identity.

"Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking but a full-on metamorphosis." ~Martha Beck

A Fly In My House

2006-03-20T09:09:00.030-05:00

There's a fly in my house. It has been here for two days. It's smaller and looks different than the house flies I've seen all winter. And it's bigger than a fruit fly, so I know it didn't come from the bananas in the kitchen. I'm excited. It's the first sign of spring! This fly may be a misfit, but I'm pretty attracted to the misfits of this world and thrilled to have it in my life.

So it was a short leap from this misfit, the fly, to this month's newsletter. Hey, no excuses for the strange wanderings of my mind. That's the point.

The Top Ten Ways to Enjoy Being a Misfit:

What causes you to be labeled a misfit is the very thing that makes you an individualist. Explore it!
Your “misfit-ness” is often your strength. Hone it!
If being a misfit looks like fun, others will follow you. Flaunt it!
Every circumstance in which you find yourself unsuitable is an opportunity to learn something new. Uncover it!
When you stand out, you have a better chance of being heard. Say it!
People will talk about you. Use it!
Expanding on that which makes you different will elevate you to one of a kind. Enjoy it!
Misfits often look at things from slightly different angles. Notice it!
Misfits tend to question accepted views and to consider contradictory ones. Challenge it!
Just like the fly in my house, if you're the only one out there, the lanes are wide open! Floor it!

First, ask yourself “Am I a misfit in any way?” And if so, don't concern yourself with hiding or compensating for it. But instead, ask yourself, “How can I expand that to other areas of my life?” Because today's misfit is tomorrow's maverick.

“Man is physically as well as metaphysically a thing of shreds and patches, borrowed unequally from good and bad ancestors, and a misfit from the start” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fishing Lesson

2006-02-26T11:02:00.002-05:00

Besides being an absolute blast, fishing has taught me a few things about repositioning myself to get out of old habits in order to experience new things. Some fishing days you're right on. You've got the right lure, with the right color. You've found the perfect spot and you're retrieving the lure or trolling at the ideal speed. The day is good. The weather conditions are outstanding (which in the world of fishing could mean high winds and rain). The fish are really biting and you can do nothing wrong.

The next day you repeat the same activities, lures, timing and location and nothing will bite. You're still feeling the adrenaline from the outstanding day before and so the temptation is to continue to repeat the patterns that worked so well just a day ago. You've just developed a bad habit…sticking with something that rewarded you once but is no longer working. You've got to change if you want to have more fun. You have to experiment with color, patterns and location and let the fish tell you what they want. Yes, you've got to be able to trust your equipment. But more importantly, you've got to trust your instincts.

If our position is familiar and comfortable, one we know well, and standing in that position has rewarded us in the past, it can be a very stale place if it's no longer working for us.

Hey, what's not working for you these days? Are you not seeing it clearly? Try repositioning yourself. First look at it straight on and then look at it from all angles. Try some new tools or equipment. Change your schedule. Get messy and use your intuition. Try a new pattern. What's the worse that can happen? New insight and perspective is always a good thing.

"When you are reluctant to face something, you are not positioned to see it clearly." ~Pam McConnell

Reflections

2006-01-02T11:28:00.018-05:00

As I was pondering my thoughts for this New Year in anticipation of writing in January, I found myself reflecting instead on the past. Allowing myself to follow the urge, I reviewed some of my writings over the past six years. And there I found a lot that is still true for me today. Yes, I know I wander. And I know I've admitted to you that my truth is my truth for the moment. I've warned you that I will contradict myself. So I was surprised to see how much is still true for me today.

So instead of a 2006 New Year article, I've gone back and summarized twelve things that are still true for me today. I'm going to take one each month of 2006 and focus on it as my personal theme for the month. Here the are. Enjoy!

In January I'm Surrendering:
Surrender control rather than seize it. Let go and trust. A life full of preparation for situations that are yet only imagined is not much of a life at all.

In February I Will Step Into the Unknown:
One of the most powerful things we can do is step fully, freely and without hesitation into the unknown. To become comfortable with the unknown is to experience freedom. To make the leap without all the answers, to step into the darkness without expectation of what is to come, to embrace the unknown as not just a place to begin but a place in which we wallow, rest and soak up our inner essence is incredibly powerful. The unknown is where your imagination can take hold. And it's imagination that transcends time and place.

In March I Will Focus on Having Enough:
When enough truly is enough, what we desire moves in and out of our life naturally. There is enough for us; there is enough for everyone. We have the ability and freedom to nurture others and ourselves. When we appreciate the enough-ness in our lives, our enough-ness appreciates.

In April I’ll be a Child in Nature:
In nature, I more easily find time to connect with myself. It was only after I grew up and met so many other adults who did not “take to the wilds” that I realized that extracting oneself from nature tends to leave a person a little off. Wilderness for me is an instant transfusion. Nature is authentic. It is exactly what it seems to be. Be a grownup if you must. But be a grownup who knows the secrets children know. Go to the wilds.

In May I’ll Remember to be Without Goals:
Stop making excuses. If you're saying, “I’ll be dancing lightly when I achieve my goals,” you're missing out. I say dance lightly now and let your goals come to you out of that joy. Step into your delight, happiness, joy and let success find you. Life is a process, not a product. No stop along the way or altered path is a mistake. Turn your back on the product, the outcome, the goal, and pay attention to enjoying the process, the hunt. Then the elusive will present itself. It always does. It has no choice.

In June, I’ll Step Into the Flow:
Flow is not always the shortest path. When the creek encounters resistance, like a rock, a downed tree or the dam the beavers are building just down stream from me, it does not go through that block. The creek is not concerned with keeping the path short. It goes around, over or underneath the resistance as a way to stay in flow. Yes, over time, it wears down the resistance, but that's not its primary concern. So like the creek, when we take the path of least resistance, we too flow. Is your vision something you mentally design and, if done right, leads to flow? Perhaps. But it might take more than a few tries to get it right. I like to believe that vision is something that comes to you when you are in flow. My suggestion—go stand in a creek.

In July I’ll Hone My Skills at Becoming Lost:
The price we pay for the freedom of being lost is to be vulnerable. The gift we receive from the freedom of being lost is new, unexpected and random things like unforeseen circumstances, interesting people and odd surroundings. It stimulates us. If we pay the price of vulnerability, we can let go of being threatened simply because we are lost. We learn to not waste our energy panicking about the direction we should take.

In August I’ll Take On Opportunities Rather than Musing About Possibilities:
Yes, we can remain on the riverbank and discuss and wonder at the possibilities. But the river is going somewhere. There are trees, streams, rocks and trails on the other side waiting to be explored. There are fish to be caught! There are people along the river who have stories to tell about their own opportunities taken. Find the opportunity in the possibility and take it.

In September I’ll Relish Being Much Less Than Perfect:
When we let go of perfection, allow ourselves to do things imperfectly, we come to see how perfect we are, just the way we are. It's a subtle difference but it's true. Our lives can be more perfect when we let go of perfection.

In October I’ll Explore New Rhythms:
Our own rhythmic actions have a common thread with the Universe. It would serve us well to note that our accomplishments are not solely a result of our skills and knowledge. Our accomplishments also come from our choice of rhythm. Our rhythm or cadence comes from our use of time, space and motion. As we learn our own rhythm, changing it in a heartbeat when we feel the urge, we learn to listen and know. We listen and know others. We listen and know nature. We listen and know ourselves. And the songs we sing out into the world, each with their own unique rhythm, will continue long after we're gone.

In November I’ll be Freely Vulnerable:
What is so frightening and at the same time so wonderful about a new beginning? What excites me is the freedom inherent in every new beginning. What scares me is that I am vulnerable. Yet I can't separate the two. If I'm to be free, I'm to be vulnerable. I become energized by the possibility of freedom that a new beginning brings. When I seek to lessen my vulnerability by trying to cover all the contingencies, I actually diminish my freedom and the new beginning becomes too small for me. Our lives and work must envelop freedom or they come down to nothing more than a means of providing.

In December I’ll Ride Into 2007 on My Intuition:
Trust your intuition and your dreams. Be open to possibility. See the unlikely. Think the unthinkable. Imagine the improbable. Life's biggest opportunities are often hidden to all but our intuition.

"There are many spokes on the wheel of life. First, we're here to explore new possibilities." ~Ray Charles

Rhythms

2005-12-17T11:57:00.001-05:00

Snow, melt, snow, melt, snow, melt, snow, snow, snow. This seems to be the cadence and rhythm in Northern Michigan. Right now, it’s snowing, and snowing….18 inches in 24 hours this past weekend. On Thanksgiving I thought the driveway shoveling had begun for the season. Then it all melted and I was left wondering why I’d worked so hard. My blisters healed. And then it happened again.

This rhythm and cadence is everywhere in nature. The creek too is in rhythm. As the snow melts, it rises and rushes. Now that the cold is back, its life is much more subdued. The sun that was so high in the sky a few short months ago now never rises above the treetops in my yard. There are hard rocks now buried in the soft snow in the field near my home. Birds, bright during the summer months have dulled to earth tones. Light summer breezes have made way for howling winter winds. Lapping waves will soon be frozen solid and silent. The delicate calls of birds looking for a mate have turned into more anxious announcements that food has been found.

Our own rhythmic actions have a common thread with the Universe. It would serve us well to note that our accomplishments are not solely a result of our skills and knowledge. Our accomplishments also come from our choice of rhythm. Our rhythm or cadence comes from our use of time, space and motion. It’s that wonderful nap before we leap into action. It’s the slow breaths we take in meditation that leads us into the unknown. It’s that long held pose in yoga that guides us to a new understanding of our body and mind. It’s the quiet humming before we break into song. The way we use time, space and energy in these moments makes our journeys interesting. As we learn our own rhythm, changing it in a heartbeat when we feel the urge, we learn to listen and know. We listen and know others. We listen and know nature. We listen and know ourselves. And the songs we sing out into the world, each with their own unique rhythm, will continue long after we’re gone.

"An artist must possess Nature. He must identify himself with her rhythm, by efforts that will prepare the mastery which will later enable him to express himself in his own language." ~Henri Matisse

"Everything has rhythm. Everything dances." ~Maya Angelou

Night Walks

2005-11-13T12:16:00.005-05:00

Lately, I've been taking longer than usual walks. I feel an urgency to wear the dogs and myself out before firearm deer season starts on November 15 and, for two weeks, we're confined to house and yard during the daylight hours.

On November 15th, I’ll become a night walker, keeping my head down to avoid getting smacked in the face by an unseen branch. Sometimes, when I'm in particularly thick woods, I turn my headlamp on. But I prefer to travel at night without it. I like the mystery. Without sight, sound and smell become more acute. I pick my way along the creek by listening to the water's flow. I judge the distance I've traveled by the smell of the familiar cedar trees and swamps along the creek.

When there is some moonlight, just enough to see shapes beyond the immediate three feet in front of me, the trip becomes even more interesting as my mind becomes more engaged. The small white pine branch gently waving in the breeze becomes something else in my mind. Is it man or beast? Is it watching me? Could it be following me?

Not long after we begin our walk, the dogs move on ahead and well out of the range of my senses. They don't have the dependence on sight that hinders my night travel. Sometimes, they are led by their noses in a big circle and come back to me from behind. I stand frozen as I hear their thundering approach and it takes me a few seconds to interpret what has happened.

Unlike the day, when blue jays, nuthatches, chickadees and ravens fill the woods with sounds, night is for the owl. One will call close by and the other will return the call from a distance, both cries echoing off the steep banks of the creek.

Occasionally a tree will fall. It happens infrequently enough that it takes me a few minutes to calm myself and remember that the beaver, like the owl, are night workers.

A quivering pine branch, the rustling of leaves behind me, a falling tree, and the hooting of a couple of great horned owls are the perfect formula for a messy mind to create all kinds of mystery and peril. But there's nothing to do but go on. I'm in the middle of it now and going back will not be less difficult than moving forward.

And finally there are lights. It's the hunting camp of my friends who have been coming north for the last 40 years to hunt the woods just south of my house. Another passage into the unknown has been navigated successfully and I'm rewarded by warmth and friends. I’ll visit for awhile, rest and enjoy the campfire. Then the dogs and I will follow the two-track back to my home.

As I reach the end of that two-track and cross the open field that leads to my house, I'm awed by the beauty of that field at night. On a night with at least some moon and a slight breeze, the lichen glistens like pools of silver and the dead grasses bend to those silvery pools as though drinking nectar.

I sometimes wonder why I choose to start my walk through the woods along the creek, picking my way, when this perfectly good two-track can easily serve as a way to accomplish dog walking after dark and avoid the dangers, both real and imagined, in the dark woods. But I know the truth about myself. I love the mystery and the unknown of the woods at night. And, truth be told, the adrenaline isn't bad either. I feel so much more awake and alive when I reach that campfire. It's just two weeks in November. I’ll recover.

Get to know a place in the wilds. Get to know it well by day. Then experience it at night and get to know yourself anew.

“Mystery is at the heart of creativity. That and surprise.” ~Julia Cameron

“Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity.” ~R. I. Fizhenry

Benign or Bothersome, It's Your Choice

2005-10-27T12:50:00.005-04:00

I've certainly stumbled on more than my share of black bear this year. And I've written about quite a few of them. Here's yet one more muse with bear as the subject. So please “bear” with me. I don't make ‘em up, I just write ‘em as they happen.

You know about the Law of Attraction, Universal Law, Spiritual Law, Quantum Physics; that, what we focus on we create. With fear thoughts, we can manifest disasters right into existence and with energizing, exciting and playful thoughts we can also create that which we most desire.

On my September fishing trip to Northern Ontario, we had driven as far as we could and were standing by the train tracks in Hawk Junction, gear piled high, waiting for the train to take us farther north. Now Hawk Junction is not much of a town. There's the train station, a small convenience store and the very old Big Bear Hotel and Bar. The rest of the town is residential. So I was not surprised to see a small bear wandering back and forth across the tracks to the south of us and a much bigger bear doing the same to the north. There's not much in Hawk Junction to disturb them.

We were a party of four from Northern Michigan and somewhat used to bear. The other party of six waiting to catch the train and be dropped off at the same camp were, however, much more uncomfortable with these bear. Two men in that group were overly concerned and could not stop expressing their fearful thoughts about bear encounters. Even on the train ride up they were having disturbing conversations about bear attacks. The rest of us had pretty much a live and let live attitude about black bear.

And sure enough, as soon as we got to camp we were told by the owners that there had been two bear in and around camp all summer. That we just needed to look where we were going when walking around. Mike, one of the owners, said he saw them every day and enjoyed them. His wife, Hanna, said she did not mind knowing that the bear were there but she didn't care to see them. Consequently, she had not seen one all summer. ChiChi, the camp cat, wasn't talking. So we were 10 guests, two camp owners, one black cat and two black bear in camp all week.

Now here's what we each manifested. It was the last week of camp and Hanna never did see a bear. That made three full months without a sighting, even though these two black bear were practically living at camp. Her husband, Mike, continued to see them every day. Those of us who had little concern, got plenty of opportunity to see the bear and were not bothered by them. And what about the two guests who were fearful? They got their fish and gear messed with and had some frightful outhouse experiences. They blamed it on rogue black bear. I'm thinking it was much more about rogue, black thoughts.

"That the birds of worry and care fly over your head, this you cannot change, but that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent." ~Chinese Proverb

It's Your Thing

2005-09-17T13:31:00.001-04:00

Summer is waning and we're heading fast into my very favorite time of year. Oh my, September has arrived in Northern Michigan and I'm excited. Fall in the northwoods is outstanding and September has to be the absolutely best month of all!!

Many of you know that I see more than my share of wildlife close to home. The south side of my property borders thousands of acres of State Forest. I live in these woods and have a good five acres between me and any neighbors to the north. But occasionally I’m reminded they are there, usually on holidays when the neighborhood comes alive with the sounds of music, children, and the occasional piece of power equipment. As the crow flies, my neighbors are pretty close. As the dog wanders, it’s not such a short path. So on this Labor Day, when I discovered my dogs had decided to go on a little outing, I headed north, not expecting to see much wildlife. But I knew the dogs would head towards people, activity and, most importantly, food.

As I marched up the road and came within earshot of yapping dogs and the smell of BBQ, I was sure I would find my runaways. This first stop was a Labor Day family reunion that looked more like a blend of Johnny Cash and Elvis convention goers. Everyone was dressed in black, complete with either biker boots or cowboy boots and big belt buckles. And just what bottle did all that black wavy hair come from? There were a lot of little dogs I could not identify. But you know the kind. The ones that can easily sit on your lap and discriminately snack right off the plate of picnic food you’re balancing on your knees. I politely accepted some potato salad as I was told my dogs had just come through heading north. As I moved on in my search, the karaoke machine was being turned up to full volume and one of the senior members of the group was at the microphone belting out his rendition of “I Walk the Line.”

One more house to the north found me in the middle of a big truck Labor Day party. In fact that’s exactly what the sign said, “Big Ass Truck Crossing.” It appeared everyone came to this event in trucks you could only access with a step ladder. I’m guessing that’s not how they really get in those trucks. Pulling out your little ladder does not quite seem manly enough for this group. But I was too shy to ask these beefy, beer-embolden guys for details. If anyone knows the real secret to getting into one of these “bad” machines, please email me. Besides, I had dogs to hunt down and the smell of grilled meat wafting through the neighborhood woods suggested I had my work cut out for me. These jumbo men were, however, incredibly friendly as they offered me a beer and jovially informed me my dogs had just moved through and headed across the creek.

So I rolled up my pants and made my way to stop number three. These dogs on the other side of the creek were all hounds and this appeared to be some sort of Labor Day, pre-hunting season gathering. I can’t report much about the food at this event except that it was most likely wild game that had been simmering for some time in a gravy sauce. I accepted an offered piece of venison jerky and moved on. Hound dogs baying as I exited.

Next door were more pickup trucks. But this time the trucks were not quite so high off the ground or laden with dog boxes and spot lights. Instead each truck had a ladder rack and a tool box in the bed. This group was building a log cabin. Grilled kielbasa and hot dogs was the fare. I opted for a handful of chips and kept moving as I was told my dogs had last been seen heading back across the creek.

I felt a little like Alice in Wonderland as I watched the farmer who lives down the road and his buddies fly over the tree tops of my neighborhood in their ultra lights. Ah, if only I had that advantage on my dog search. Alas, that was not the way I was traveling. I rolled up my pant legs and waded back into the creek.

I finally caught up with the delinquent pooches at the most famous of all Labor Day traditions, the annual yard sale/picnic. Chicken was on the grill. I opted for a piece of chocolate cake as I made my purchase of a wooden-handled spatula.

With my runaways in tow, a new spatula and a full belly, I hoofed it home while wondering how, in a world of such diversity, we’re able to find those we will most connect with. Our choice of pets, food, and transportation seem to be some common factors. I’ll keep you posted as I figure it out. I can suggest that if you want to experience some wildlife and diversity in your own neighborhood, you might start by owning a couple of dogs. Or is it that they own you?

"While the spirit of neighborliness was important on the frontier because neighbors were so few, it is even more important now because our neighbors are so many." ~Lady Bird Johnson

Defenseless

2005-08-28T14:49:00.032-04:00

I rarely need to be defensive. And I'm never on the offense. Generally, people, things and events come and go through my life without any altercations.

I went back to one of my favorite fish camps the last week of July. It's a wonderful place just south of Hearst, Ontario where, as always, the Walleye and Northern Pike fishing is outstanding.

About day three, Sam, the camp owner, and I decided to fish a small lake that had a reputation for BIG pike. We beached our boat and motor and walked the short portage over the dried creek bed to this lake. Someone had left a small 12-foot fishing boat on the other side. Great! All we had to do was go back and grab oars, tackle and rods. There would be no hard work dragging boat and motor over the portage this day. There was only one dilemma. We quickly discovered we did not have oars but paddles instead. Now paddling a fishing boat is doable, if the winds are not too strong, but it's not nearly as easy as rowing. We decided to go anyway.

Although the wind was not strong, we laughed hard at ourselves as we tried to figure out how to paddle a fishing boat. Mostly we went in circles with Sam paddling in the front of the boat and me in the back. I'm too embarrassed to tell you how long it took us to figure out we could move forward, and even backward, when we both sat on the middle seat, each paddling on a side. We brought ourselves to tears laughing at our incompetence and how long it took us to discover such a simple system.

About 4:00 p.m. we decided to head back to the portage, hike to our boat and motor, and get back to camp in plenty of time for a nice fish diner. About 75 feet from the portage, I spotted something dark moving in the water and pointed it out to Sam. It looked like it could be a very large beaver. Or,……the head of a bear! As the bear emerged from the water, we were surprised to see a 350-400 pound black bear with water shining and dripping off his dark, black coat.

But the awe turned to confusion when he plopped down right on the edge of our portage trail. We knew he had seen and scented us. But he just didn't seem to care. So we yelled and banged our now trusty paddles on the side of the boat. This didn't seem to discourage him one bit. What to do?

Our first line of defense was to enjoy the sight while eating all the trail mix. No sense in tempting Smokey with peanuts, sunflower seeds, raisins and M & M’s. We finished the trial mix but he was still there. Our second line of defense was to throw back the fish we had caught. Yes, they survived. Dinner was looking more and more like beans and rice and the bear looked like he was thinking about a nap. Our third Line of defense was to wash off that sweet smelling Banana Boat sunscreen. I just didn't want to smell that good once my feet hit dry ground.

And then we approached ever so cautiously with our new and improved paddling system. About 25 feet from the portage, just when we were thinking we might practice backing up, Mr. Bear decided he'd had enough and ambled into the bush.

Adrenaline got us back to our boat and motor in record time. Beans and rice was actually starting to sound good.

What would have happened to our fishing expedition if we'd had foresight and thought about the possibility of a bear blocking our path? At the extreme, we would not have portaged into this lovely lake at all. We would have missed the beauty, the outstanding fishing and our chance to be silly with paddles. At the least, our fishing day would have been clouded with thoughts of looming peril.

So was this something we should have prepared for? Maybe. But a life full of preparation for situations that are yet only imagined is not much of a life at all. I'm choosing to keep my guard down, come what may.

" Everything of value is defenseless." ~Lucebert

Another Lesson From The Creek

2005-07-25T15:36:00.021-04:00

By mid summer, you can often find me plopped in a chair in the creek with a good book. In July the mosquitoes seem to back off. Perhaps that's because they are ending their breeding season. More likely it's because the air at the creek is a swarm of dragonflies and damselflies, iridescent creatures fluttering around my head and occasionally landing on me. They seem to appreciate me as much as I enjoy them. I've learned to love these voracious meat eaters not only for their beauty, but their ability to spot their favorite prey, mosquitoes, from as far away as 40 yards and fly in for the kill at speeds up to 30 miles an hour. They appreciate me, I believe, for my ability to attract their quarry.

My attention is frequently drawn from the book to the water swirling around my legs and what lies beneath. There are treasures at my feet. Beautiful stones in various shades of red, green yellow, brown and white. Like gems, they sit on the creek bed tempting me. So clear, so vibrant, magnified in both size and color by the water that flows over them.

Styx, my big lab, joins me to roam the banks and lay in the deep pools when his black coat has soaked up more heat then he can stand. Jersey, my chocolate lab, has become a frog dog. Several years ago she discovered that by walking the edge of the creek, she could stir up frogs that would make a mad dash for the safety of deeper water. A few times, only a few, she has caught a frog. I'm always startled when she returns to me and spits a confused frog into my lap. Probably not more startled than the frog. There it sits, often for as much as 10 seconds, Jersey and I watching intently, knowing any moment it will figure out which way is up and take a wild, long leap back to the creek. Then I resume my reading and Jersey resumes the hunt.

On Sunday, my friends Don and Maggie joined me in the creek. It was Maggie who observed another lesson from the creek. She marveled at the beautiful stones on the creek bottom, wanting to see each one more closely. And yet each time she reached for a particularly beautiful stone, her hand would cause the flowing creek water to blur her visibility, coming up with not the stone she was seeking but another in its stead. Those times that she was lucky to find her target, the beauty of the gem she had sought often faded when it left the water. So as we prepared to climb the bank and return to the campfire that had softened to embers, ready to roast our dinner, Maggie gave back to the creek all but one of the stones she had successfully collected, pointing out that they belonged there. Pointing out that our beauty is very much about the environment in which we are seen.

Choose your environment well. Make it a reflection of you. Create the environment that nurtures you. The dragonflies and damselflies will tell you that life can be too short when you settle for less than that environment that reflects you at your best.

"A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can let alone." ~ Henry David Thoreau

Bush Cut

2005-06-03T12:07:00.019-04:00

I just returned from my annual May fishing frenzy in the Northern Ontario bush. These 10 days kicked off the 2005 fishing season for me. And I'm headed back up for a long weekend next Thursday through Monday. Yikes! I've got to start packing!

On this trip, we did an incredible amount of cutting. We cut brush on overgrown trails to lakes we had not yet fished. We cut up fish for dinner. We cut wood for evening campfires. We cut through weeds in shallow water to get to deeper fishing holes. We cut through the clouds of black flies on the portages to each lake. We cut cards to see who was cooking and who was cleaning. And on day five, after much whining and moaning about no longer being able to get a brush through my dirty hair, we cut that too. It took about 2 minutes. “Don't worry, I’ll take care of it” was the last thing I heard before I saw about 6 inches of my hair fly over my shoulder and into the campfire. That will teach me to keep my grousing to myself when everyone else at fish camp is looking for a good time.

It was really a very simple 10 days. Nothing was rushed. I read a couple of books and fished, ate and slept. I laughed a lot.

And, besides the obvious new hair cut, I cut a few other things out of my life. There was no T.V., of course, at camp. And I've not had the urge to turn it on since I've been home. It wasn't really the T.V. itself that I cut out of my life. It was the trivia and inferior debris that vibrates through it. Time didn't really exist either. Oh, on some level I was aware that it was morning, afternoon or evening. I was aware that it was time to eat or sleep. But I cut out caring about what hour it was. This is so very different from my routine at home where I have clients scheduled by the hour. I think that's one of the reasons I go to the bush to fish? Time stands still and I stop being bothered by the multiple tiny thoughts that an awareness of each hour creates. There's no urge to interfere or do something about or with them.

And the one little thing I was bothered by got handled in 2 minutes flat. How simple is that? Open my mouth and let the Universe handle the details. And thanks to my friend Jim for being such a straight cutter, stepping up to the task quickly and handling the matter before I got too obsessed!

“In wilderness is the preservation of the world.” ~ Henry David Thoreau