Dreamy Watery Float

Water is life. It represents a symbolic element we identify as emotion; those ever changing, fluid, feeling energies within us all. Water has no fixed shape, yielding to outside influence.  It is a metaphor for the Universal Cosmic Sea from whence we came and are a part of as our multi-dimensional and deeply hidden state—our subconscious, our history—and our future evolution. Water also represents the feminine divine.  Could it be that water stands for as Pamela Eakins writes, realization, Illumination, Alignment and Contemplation?

Eons ago in the land known as Lemuria babies were born underwater, and came up to a group of women singing. We are over 70% water—and without it—we perish quickly. It is part of our cellular structure and the core of our beingness. And, so it seems, that water represents and affects us much more than when we turn the tap at the kitchen sink or shower, or even flow with the tides and pull of the moon. Water is living and alive. Frozen, it reveals messages in it’s crystalline form as Dr. Emoto discovered.

Several weeks ago, I had the opportunity to experience a “float tank” and it’s like time stood still for 90 minutes. I must confess, except for a bit of water in my ears, the ability to float in darkness and silence gave me another perspective and a few moments solitude and peace—a refreshing rejuvenation from the hustle of the south Florida traffic during “season,” and everything else that comes with the plethora of out of town visitors. 

We have been forever fascinated by the sea. Our evolution has been tied to water, and we are surrounded by mystical stories of mermaids, whales, dolphins, great storms and survival.  Stories and songs of fishermen and their tales—their love—as the mistress of the sea. What and why does this emotional matrix of water touch us all? It is unique for each of us, as the souls we are. It is something we are innately drawn to. Look no further than the beach. 

Here’s a space where we are free to indulge in our deepest thoughts. Relax and allow our muscles to rest; to allow the stresses to be washed away. And to be in an “ungrounded” state; our feet are not tethered to the polarities and magnetics of the Earth. While we float in the dense salt water, we can allow ourselves to feel our magnificence. We can allow our worries and anxiety to dissipate. We can feel compassion for ourselves. WE can feel pure love and joy. Our consciousness is contained in the floating vessel and doesn’t necessarily need to be grounded.  So talk to Matt and take a Float 8, the “no gravity, no light, no sound experience”.

“We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.”

Jacques Cousteau

 

Cathy S-R Center Gardens

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Certified Holistic Health Coach in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease, relationships, spirituality, and loss. Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

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Bookmark

Bookmarks for me, mark more than just a placeholder for a page in a book—I guess they are more like a tiny time capsule, which seem to mark an event, adventure or period in my life.  Just recently, I had a friend make a remark about my bookmarks, “I am always fascinated what I will find in your books,” he remarked.  Actually, I had never given it much thought until his comment.  Yes, I had used something handy in the moment and then later found old airline ticket jackets, receipts from restaurants, post-it-notes with cryptic messages, raffle tickets, old napkins with handwritten notes and envelopes or simply little scraps and bits of paper that were repurposed into commission to hold a place of importance in the book I was reading at the time. But, it seemed to be “My normal” and usually I took no notice. How odd an observation, I noted to myself, with a sheepish shrug and smile.

Yesterday, however, I pulled down a newer version of The Joy of Cooking, that has found a home atop my refrigerator. (I say newer because the first copy I received was decades ago—upon graduation from high school—from friends of my Mother, as a gift.)  This newer reprint was purchased as my “Florida” version in 2001.  I liked it because of its tables of equivalents and conversions and I used it as an encyclopedia of sorts in the world of baking chemistry, recipes, and basic homemade standbys such as buttermilk biscuits which I could find at a glance; the old 1948 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia collection served the same function growing up regarding inventions and world facts.

But, yesterday, after a lengthy disappearance, I found in one of its pages, a reappearance of a Sainsbury’s label for cranberries. Sainsbury’s was a grocery store I frequented when I lived in England for about six months.  The Cranberries weight measured in grams and the “display” date and the “Best” before date labeled 27 NOV and 28 NOV respectively.

During my stay, the Thanksgiving holiday appeared on my calendar and I insisted on a small Thanksgiving dinner.   Before my trip, I never realized the imbedded importance of what this holiday meant for me.  In my core, it screamed American and for all our criticisms around the world, I realized in 2006 that in spite of living in another English-speaking country which very much represented our history and roots—there were some extremely notable and discernible differences in the way in which our entrenched thoughts and beliefs impacted our present day workings.

Yes, I navigated the right-hand drive—with extreme concentration; it was so easy to slip back into the autopilot of the more familiar American—left-hand drive.  Yes, there were a few words that were particularly “English” and that just made it more fun.  And, yes, there was the occasional derogatory comment about ‘the Americans’, but I was unfazed.

The single most important difference I noticed, was the mentality—that good old American—nothing can stop me now attitude, that I believe separates us and the freedom others seek when they arrive on our shores.  This is the same fortitude that has spurred protests, freedom of expression and the drive for something better—always better.  We may have our share of rotten apples—for no society is ever perfect, but we will sort and sift and find a better way to give everyone a chance to live in harmony with ourselves and our neighbors.

Surprised, that, it is this “time capsule,” a bookmark, the Sainsbury’s Cranberry label and buttermilk biscuits, that reminds me today, that I am proud to be an American.  I know we will get through all this chaos.  It will be sorted out and we will be stronger and more united for it in the end.  Because, that’s who we are!

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12 Ways of Christmas

images-5The holidays are upon us. Here we go again. And, unless it’s my imagination, the energy is more intense than in past holiday seasons; maybe it’s just me? Or is it? So, it’s not about cookies and pies and sugar plums which dance in everyone’s head.  Everywhere around me I am hearing extreme stories—and feeling the blowback with unreasonable responses to simple requests. Could it be the severe transits in the sky or that this shift in human consciousness is real? The fast-tracking and completion of this 9 energy seems to be upon us—endings and new beginnings ready or not!  Strap on your seat belt, I think there is more ahead. Is this where the “rubber hits the road?”  Or, as Lee Carroll says, “No more fence sitting.”

Even though we can’t see such progress nationally or globally, we know something is different in our lives.  Just like gravity and magnetism—or love for that matter we cannot see such invisible energies.  We even have a hard time explaining such things, but they are so a part of our lives that we’ve cognized them and believe it’s so and know them to be real.  By our choice and willingness at some level, the universe is pushing and pulling us forward, forcing decisions on our behalf.  Are we still clinging to old outdated ideas and beliefs that do not serve us? What is our truth?  We don’t know what we don’t know.

I have heard families are still feuding about the results of the recent presidential election—not talking because of its outcome . . . Greed, shadow-like behavior and lack of integrity is being challenged on every level. Ideas are projected onto others without warrant through filters and bias reflecting like mirrors back to them through us.  Others have expressed to me, they feel invisible within their family unit.  It seems like we as a human race have been running in circles for years. Cycles within cycles of the same, but no more, the finale is here. We are being pushed forward with such force that things are crumbling and falling fast—like the lightning bolt or the tower in the tarot. Shazam! Crash!  Boom! Bang! It’s here!

So, with such turmoil swirling everywhere, how do we shift things for a more civil and loving holiday season?

In reality, we can only be responsible for ourselves, right? I offer these suggestions. Many have stood the test of time: virtues and strengths we all know.  This is our test as well.  How are we going to do?  This is about awakening the Master-hood within. It is about empowerment.  In this season of light—that’s exactly what we are being challenged to do.

1.) Be compassionate to others.

2.) Be who you want to be and create the experiences you want to create.

3.) Biological family is not a requirement, if friends or soul family are a better option—choose them instead this year.

4.) Give your best.

5.) Live by your values

6.) Show wisdom, courage and love in your decisions and resistance to judgments.

7.) Offer humor to situations.

8.) Come to the party with open-mindedness

9.) Have gratitude to the small and large things life has to offer.

10.) Bring a dose of humility and kindness for all.

11.) Don’t take everything so personal—it’s really a reflection about the other.  It’s not about you.

12.)  Put the star at the top of the tree.  This is your light that shines so bright—that it radiates out to the world.  (That comes from inside you!)  Happy Holidays.

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Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrinesilver.com

Communication—Always—Everywhere—ALL Ways

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One of the many Washington State Ferries

Gone were the days of hopping onto the ferry for a quick ride across the Sound—unless of course, you were on foot. Riding the iconic green and white ferry this past weekend is not only a familiar, favorite pastime of many tourists to Seattle, including myself, but serves a vital transportation network for more than—wow— 23 million passengers annually in the Northwest.

The Washington State Ferry system is the only way to reach some of the islands around the Puget Sound*—technically now part of the Salish Sea and nestled between two picturesque mountain ranges:  Cascades and Olympics.  But in the meantime—you wait in line for a boat.

And so, I was invited to spend the weekend with a friend of mine in Sequim and as we waited and chatted catching up in the car, creeping slowly down the mile+ long line that ran up and around the hill, all the while inching toward the ferry toll booths to buy tickets to make the short crossing from Edmonds to Kingston— on to the Kitsap Peninsula, and then further west to the diverse Olympic Peninsula bordering the expansive Pacific Ocean.

We sat poised behind a 18 wheeler inching ever closer as the line curved down the hill—the many cars patiently waiting—-to board. Out of the blue, a white Ford SUV cut in line—right in front of the truck bearing the British Columbia plates. Ouch! 

Now, as notice to the reader, there are many signs posted—about no “cutting-in-Line,” and for good reason, if you have ever waited—hours sometimes to board and cross the water—depending on which route, time, day, and where you were headed.

So, when this SUV pulled ahead of the semi-truck, my friend Brad, and a frequent ferry rider, decided to let them know this was not only not cool, but the toll takers would turn them around to the back of the line.  Before we knew and he could get there, the Canadian truck driver had also jumped out to make this aberrant vehicle aware of the protocol breech.   In a quick exchange with the SUV driver and passenger, the truck driver shouted to Brad, “if I hit the guy—I am going to jail”—and got back in his vehicle. And so, good natured Brad took his turn.  His experience was no better and with the belligerent response and defiant attitude, he decided to turn to his other option: reporting the vehicle using the special hot line established by the WSF system—and that’s exactly we did.

As fate would have it, we had all progressed and stopped to a stone’s throw of the three toll booths, and it was time to alert the toll takers.  We again witnessed an attitude as two toll takers preceded to move the vehicle out of line and turned them around; about like hitting a nest of yellow-jackets.  (And, you don’t want to be anywhere close when the stick hits the hive.)  But, justice prevailed and I am sure the on-lookers were most amused. No one was hurt or hauled off to jail, although the woman inside the car had gotten out and was taking pictures of those who had offended her and foiled her cheating-cut-in-line intention—shouting something about hitting her car—what???

Later the next afternoon, Brad and I stopped to get sandwiches at a local Safeway.  We had passed a fiddle player outside the grocery store on the way back to the car and had enjoyed a few strums as we passed him heading across the asphalt when we realized in the row in front of us and a space to the right was a large pickup parked and playing his tunes in a very, very base—you know shake the windows—kind of style.  A few sentences into a conversation about how neither of us cared for this “genre”—the kids next to us in the mini-van with the door open—said that that was their brother we were talking about—and how this was America and they could do anything they wanted—and then filed out of the van—daisy dukes—tattoos and all, to let their brother know—we didn’t exactly embrace his music.  Quite a family, I must say . . . “Mom” came out shortly with a couple bags of groceries and within a few minutes they were gone.  However, big brother, spun his truck around, his Mother’s bags of groceries quickly tossed and rolling across the bed of his truck.  He was more concerned with us, as he pulled behind where we were parked, and walked up to Brad’s window.  “Hi, I’m sorry you didn’t like my music.  Next time, I’ll play it louder!”  I looked at Brad and he back at me in between bites of the sandwiches on our laps.  In a way it was almost humorous.  What the heck just happened, I mused?  It had been a weird kind of weekend—something that over the many trips to the Peninsula had always been quiet and peaceful—and again found ourselves innocently in the middle of a shifting and what seemed angry outburst.

Communication, I thought, how often do we realize that everything we do is a form of communication—both verbally and nonverbally alike.  I have known for decades that non-verbal communication is more honest and truthful that verbal.  We cannot hide the way we express ourselves, observed in—our dress—our hair—our cars—our houses— “our tattoo’s” if any—or our music to name a few.

But, does communication come to us in other forms as well?  What about the stars and their magnetic influence and pull?  Certainly the moon affects us as evidenced by ER visits. Or Mercury when it goes retrograde; it’s effect on electronics, travel, decisions and communication. Do the trees communicate with us?  We all know “tree huggers.” What do the trees say to them? Crystals are givers and receivers of information, especially quartz.  I have friends that have the ability to communicate with the rocks and crystals.  And, water—we know it communicates as well—certainly from Masaru Emoto’s work which not only supports this, but scientifically documents water’s messages.

But, what else communicates with us that we have no awareness, because of our lack of understanding or our multidimensional nature? Dreams? And, can we receive messages from the whales and dolphins?  Is that why we are so fascinated by these magnificent cetaceans?   What about the Sun?  I understand it is talking to the heliosphere of Earth, and this is talking to the esoteric grids—which is communicating to our DNA and consciousness.  Could that explain the weekend?  Our politics?  Our relationships?  Our desires—our wants—needs—our changes, endings and beginnings taking place at every level of our lives and beingness?  What about our intuition? What important ideas and thoughts come this way?

How do our intentions and words influence our daily lives? Have you noticed anything new? What is different in your life?  How do you communicate with yourself and others? We all seem to be individual receivers and communication—visible or not—is coming to us ALL ways and always.

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

www.cathrinesilver.com

Cathysilverhealth@gmail.com

 

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We are ALL WAYS communicating–whether we realize it or not–verbally & non-verbally.

*Unless you own a private boat

Cindy & Chris

Cindy and Chris—two different lives—two different stories; each similar in their truth.  Today, gathering ingredients for the mango salsa, I made a trip to the newly opened Fresh Market near my home.  It is really not a grocery store, but more of a delightful shopping experience.  As, I approached the check out register, a short grey haired woman wearing glasses and dressed in the market’s trademark colors stood waiting as I approached.  Smiling she asked, “are you ready to check out?  “Yes”, I said, and continued, “this is a dangerous store with all the wonderful temptations around each turn of my shopping cart”.  She nodded, and I push the metal basket into the designated parking spot by her register.

Sometimes, short conversations ensue as customer stands—and clerk works quickly sliding bar codes over the red laser lights and typing in proper codes.  We exchanged a few words about salsa—her husband making a batch made with mangos the evening before; their tree full with bounty.

And, how are you today, I politely inquired about half way through the process.  Well, confessed, Cindy—as I read her name tag, “I am getting over a cold”.  Hum, I thought—and then spoke.  I guess your biology is catching up to your new higher vibration”.  She stopped and smiled.  “I am happy again”, she replied in earnest.  I looked  her in the eyes.  And in a few minutes she told me her story.  “I used to work at Fresh Market—the one down by Broward,” (Ave) she told me.  “Things got unbearable and I left.  I worked at a call center as a supervisor for three years and would be pacing in the hall getting yelled at. (My mind drifted and I pictured a hallway with plainly painted nondescript walls and squares of dull vinyl tiling desperately needing to be cleaned and waxed.) “I came back here when this store opened.  I am so happy—in fact all the weight I gained just fell off” and she rubbed her hand across her belly.  I was astonished for she was a rather thin woman “I believe you;  you are saying my vibration rose because I am happy—and the cold is proof.”  Yep, I said smiling.  Pretty cool, huh.  I know it’s true.  I haven’t been this happy in a long time.  We parted smiling.  I headed for home, I would be back.

My friend Chris is another story.  Another career experience.  What was being tested?  What wisdom did he gain? Offered an opportunity to work in St. Croix several months ago, he sold or gave away everything he owned, except two suitcases of basic necessities, his cat and 2000 lbs. of tools, heading to the Caribbean for what seemed to be a dream job.  Six+ weeks later, he is heading home.  “The guy doesn’t have an ounce of integrity—and I don’t ever see it changing,” he told me over the phone.  The apartment he was supposed to have wasn’t ready for several weeks after he arrived.  The job was not what he went down there to do—and his beloved companion and familiar friend, Tigger got sick.  It was then that he made the decision to come back to Florida—and start over.  “I think this is one of the toughest experiences of my life”, he said in another conversation; I could certainly hear that in his voice.   But, just like Cindy, a new job awaits him here, with a company he knows that works with honesty; a prerequisite for him and was for Cindy too.

We all seem to survive the bumps in the road.  It is part of life that we don’t really understand, but adds flavor to our ride.  I guess we could say, it might be quite boring in the other direction.  Gilda Radner once noted, “Some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.  Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity . . .”   Each “adventure” we take always brings choice—do we make our decision based from the standpoint of love or fear—which is it that guides our way?   Gary Zukav, well known author of the book, The Seat of the Soul,  says this, The choice that frees or imprisons us is the choice of love or fear. Love liberates. Fear imprisons.

In the end, it’s about being honest with one person—our self.  Stay strong and do your best with whatever situation you face following your instincts.  Remember, to somehow enjoy your ride, difficult as it is in the moment; temporary as the weather.  You must pick the path that’s right for you; after all it’s your own story and your truth. But do it with love because love liberates you and sets you free, especially when taking the leap into the vast unknown. We’re all stronger than we know.

“Inspired Wellness From Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

http://www.CathrineSilver.com

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The Four Corners; Lemons or Lemonade 

My kids cringed as I pulled the Land Cruiser over to the side of the shoulder, hopping out on the long deserted windy highway and picked a handful of stray wheat stalks, that were happily growing outside the farmer’s expansive cultivated land protected by the lonely never-ending barbed wire fence. Earlier, they shook their heads while I was still navigating my way out of Texas as I made a U-Turn to get a extraordinary picture of a beautiful row of tall sunflowers—asking Joshua and David to smile as I took their picture in front of the oh-so-tall-giant beauties.

IMG_0965Ah, the memories. I look back now and marvel at the fun-filled expeditions across the United States that I shared with my boys growing up; that small window of time—still being at home—and not having summer jobs—or big plans with their friends; I valued those summer moments even today.

Much to my husband’s displeasure, I didn’t travel with reservations.  I let the road and the enticement of curiosity and intrigue of our journey be our guide.  Yea, there was a general plan and route, and we participated in all the big tourist sights over the years : Carlsbad, Hoover Dam, Jackson Hole, Yellowstone, The Grand Canyon—Mt. Rushmore—and the Four Corners, Mesa Verde National Park; I could go on, Niagara Falls, San Francisco, the Pacific Coast highway, the famous tea-pot service station were buried in there too.

Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Arizona literally come together; intersections on the map—a quadipoint. The unique points of the compass; each state, staking their claim to the arid real estate. Four Corners, a home to one of our national parks— a piece of Navajo, Hopi, Ute and Zuni tribal Country; untamed, wild and harsh.

The long winding road that brought us in to the majestic park had been a tedious leg—as I followed behind RV, after RV up the inclined and narrow highway the 35+ miles.  I didn’t care that these folks towed their petite homes behind them, it was just a different pace for them, then it was for me.

Desolated, barren, remote and rugged, I was surprised the park offered hotel accommodations. Making the decision to stay for the night was a splurge.  We were all a bit tired, my ex-Mother-in-law in tow.  (She often traveled with me on these summer sojourns and it was always nice to have another adult in the car—although certainly not necessary or at times easy—she excitedly partook in our road trips.)  For my kids, it was nice to have “Grandma” along; a woman who always seemed to keep things interesting.

The park was home to the Cliff Dwellers and offered tours about the Hopi’s and other ancient populations who at one time had occupied the land.  We had come all this way—why not learn a bit about this unique Colorado Plateau and the Tribal Nations who inhabited it?

Although, I was pleased with this quiet high plateau desert stop—my kids were not so much.  This was one of the few room sans TV.  They survived amidst their mild protest.  I laughed about what a rut and routine we often find ourselves in; sympathy without television was not high on my list. We we here to explore and discover.  I remember the ruggedness of the views from the small balcony—sun setting.  The isolation. The apparent acerbity. A very different life. One that had not been easy and one without our modern conveniences or luxury; I appreciated the ease by which we traveled and filled our bellies.

The night had been restful. The solitude and stillness amazing and rejuvenating for me.  The sun welcomed us to the new day. With our belongings loaded in the back of the Toyota, I made my way back down the blacktop towards the office—reservations and checkout.  With everyone waiting in the Land Cruiser—I skirted in to check out.  We would be on our way to see the ancient ruins and history contained within the park’s borders— of Mesa Verde and all it had to offer. It gave us a chance to speculate on the mysteries and disappearance of an entire race. This much I knew. Included in my plans was a tour to learn more of the Native peoples in antiquity— known as Anasazi, and Pueblo and predated our current Native culture by several millennia.  Our plans were in place for the day . . . or were they?

My usual dress at the time was a pair of Ralph Lauren shorts—with the side pockets—causal Polo style shirts and sweater or sweatshirt when necessary—leather topsiders and my leather backpack.  I mentioned this only to illustrate the vast number of places a set of keys could hide.  Upon my checkout I trotted back to the vehicle.  I needed to re-park the Toyota as the tours’ of the ruins would take 4-5 hours.  Yet, I could not find my keys.  I checked and rechecked my pockets.  I asked the boys and Grandma patiently waiting in the car.  No keys. I returned back to the hotel front desk twice, even making them look behind the computers to see if the keys had inadvertently fallen between the higher check-out counter and the screens from which they worked.  Nope, nowhere—a dilemma at hand! Where could they have gone? I even questioned myself.  Yes, I had to have the keys—after all I had driven from our room to this point where we sat . . .  This time on my trip back to the Land Cruiser, my mind raced for solutions.  A thousand or so miles away from home—and no keys!  I went to the glovebox.  Maybe there was a number of a ‘local’ Toyota dealer who could somehow get us a key?  I started digging.  Glove boxes, or at least mine, are like that;  You never know what you will find.

Within minutes, of searching the Toyota literature, I came upon a very small, yellow plastic key—stuck on a card—as I remember the 5 x 7 size—Stuck with those glue globs that usually free things come with in the mail.  I peeled the flat plastic key away from the card.  “We can get home” I said with a smile, holding up the tiny treasure.  “Let’s go.”  We left the car and went to catch the shuttle—the driver delaying—I believe in hopes we would find our keys.

About four and a half hours later—our tours complete we returned to the car.  I must say we had had a terrific time. As a matter of fact, I had completely forgotten all about the missing keys and had just enjoyed settling into the “Now”; the sights and the history.  We would be back in the Land Cruiser soon, on to parts unknown and enjoying what cool things and other sights this country had to offer. Our summer journey matching on, uninterrupted.

But, what greeted us was another astonishment. There, taped to my door was a white paper; a note from the front desk which said: “WE HAVE YOUR KEYS!!”  How about that—I shared with the boys and my Mother-in-law.  They found our keys!  I opened the vehicle and told them to climb in—I would be right back.

I presented the note—and they presented my keys.  “Wherever did you find them?”, I asked.  The young gal holding the keys looked at me.  “A man took them, thinking they belonged to his daughter—and then was embarrassed to bring them back”, she shyly confided. Well, whatever the reason, I was indeed happy to be reunited with my ring of keys.

It had been a good adventure.  Quite happily, I had been able to enjoy the days plan—despite the monkey-wrench concerning my keys.  I didn’t look quite as crazy to the front dest, I thought, smiling to myself as I walked back down the path towards the truck.

Today, as I write and recall this story, I am not sure whether it was a “test” of living in the moment.  Part of a life puzzle of handling unforeseen circumstances . . . or a debt of karma. (Unfinished business with another) It really doesn’t matter. Whatever the moment, or circumstances, we are always at choice-point of how we handle the up’s and down’s of life and our day(s).  When we come from a place of trust, things usually have a way of working themselves out.  It seems it’s all a matter of perspective and how we react or don’t react. Whether we believe we can or can’t, we’re right.  What do you choose to believe today?  . . . .  Well, You’re right!  Happy Summer trails and adventures!  Make them GREAT!

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Moving Beyond Fear

As I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall along Commercial Blvd, I sensed an uneasiness.  I was surprised—even at myself.  I had come for Salsa lessons. Something, I had wanted to do for a long time. Why would something I had looked forward to suddenly bring me unrest?  I stopped and turned off the ignition to the car.  I took a deep breath, staring straight at the dance studio in front of me from my parking spot.  Silently asked myself—what was I afraid of?  Could it be going by myself?  After all, I had resisted movies alone. No, I reasoned.  I had traveled extensively by myself; even driven across the country.  I had not only survived my divorce ten years prior, but in fact, felt I had thrived—stepping into my purpose and feeling a sense of self empowerment;  intuitively knowing I had grown into a more authentic-ness of my being.  Out of college, I had been hired as a sales representative for Pfizer.  On more than one occasion, I had been reduced to tears by the arrogance and rudeness of the physicians I called on; yet I persisted and excelled. I had gone back to school in my 40’s with eighteen year old college kids and found camaraderie and pure enjoyment.  It was funny  to me though,  how little things can trigger our insecurities in spite of how right certain things felt.  I had “survived” transformation training even becoming one of the leaders—of sorts.  A captain on a variety of athletic teams in my formative years was also a strength I seemed to possess.  I tossed the fear aside, and opened the car door. I focused on what I wanted to accomplish and why I had come.

I have gone back four times now—and each time becomes more comfortable.  We are all beginners—learning something new—and for my part having fun.  I recognize faces—and the other students recognize me.  Will I become a serious dance student?  A new interest?  Perhaps.  Right now, I will continue but, I ask, what if I had not taken the first step?  What if I had backed out and driven away?  How many times have we all done this, because the unknown prevents us from something positive?  I write this only to encourage you and to say, we all have our moments where we are unsure about new adventures, new jobs—and new opportunities.  What would you do if you weren’t afraid? I encourage you to take the leap.  You’ll be glad you did!

 

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“Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.” – Robert Tew

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