My Last Day as a Cowgirl (I'll miss my boots)

It was my last Friday working at the Cowboy Express Steakhouse.  When I arrived to work, I started skipping in slow motion towards the front door.  Believe it or not, I was escorted by a flock of cartoon bluebirds, Bambi and a garden gnome.  As I approached the entryway, two of my fellow cowgirls opened the doors with huge smiles on their faces as they welcomed me to work.  All of my coworkers were laughing and singing along to "This One's for the Girls" by Martina McBride (even the kitchen staff, and some of those guys don't even speak English).  It was truly moving.  I walked up to my first table (still in slo-mo,  my hair blowing in the wind) and they were swaying in unison to the music.  They knew exactly what they wanted: no special instructions, no allergies, no substitutions, and no complaints. It was miraculous.  I delivered their food and they ate in silence, swaying joyously.  They tipped me 45% and even did a little chorus line kick in honor of me before they left.  Maybe it was their heavily poured cocktails, I don't know. Okay so it didn't happen exactly like that, but it was close...
That last night reminded me of something I read in the book I was reading at the time, Millionaire Real Estate Agent written by Gary Keller.  He posed the question:  What if you worked everyday like it was the day  before you are taking a vacation?  Obviously, I wasn't taking a vacay, but my mindset was that the end was in sight.  Every little irritation just rolled off my back, I didn't care about "the small stuff" because I knew I would never have to deal with it again (in the near future at least), so I chose not to let all those little buggers get in the way of enjoying my coworkers and my tables.  But what if something had come up after my last shift and I had to cover for one of the girls the next night?  Would that have changed my phenomenal "last night" - no.  Albeit it would've been extremely challenging to have the same attitude as I did if I knew I was coming back the next day...but not impossible.  Just like building a muscle, changing your way of thinking takes deliberate action and repetition.  Imagine how much more we would enjoy the moments of the "ordinary" and "mundane" of our daily lives if we were able to keep that level of energy and enthusiasm even 80% of the time!  I've decided I'm going to Tahiti tomorrow. Oooo and maybe I'll head off to Europe the next day.   Who else is coming?

Or perhaps Fiji?...

(my desk at work!)

Schizophonia

On Earth Day this year my yoga studio had a special celebration restoration class complete with traditional (eastern) Indian instruments, music and singing. It got me thinking of one of my favorite words I learned during a World Music class in college: Schizophonia. It means to separate sound (schizo-to separate, phone-sound).  What I remember so much about it is the professor pointing out to us that we rarely experience music without some kind of schizophonia.  All of the music we hear on the radio and our iPods are examples of schizophonia; even hearing live music at a concert or small show fit the example. We hear the instruments and voices through some type of microphone or amplifier, separating us from the true sound that is being produced.  When you are around a campfire with acoustic guitars, voices and bongos, or in your living room listening to your roommate and his band mate practice their set for their upcoming gig - that is hearing the music with no schizophonia - you are experiencing the true sound waves and vibrations being created by strings and vocal chords. One of my most envious moments involves schizophonia...a brother of a friend worked at a restaurant that involved someone walking around playing an acoustic guitar for the tables (oh yea and the place is in Hollywood). Eddie Vedder just so happened to be there, borrowed a guitar and serenaded an intimate circle of lucky listeners. I think I would've given my left toe to  hear this man's voice from five feet away. However, a couple of my favorite no schizo times would have to be listening to a kindergarten class sing Christmas Songs and my sister in law playing me the latest song she wrote. The word reminds me that how we experience things in this world are sometimes distorted, but nevertheless, wonderful.

*That is Coco in the picture playing the harmonium and singing to us while we are in final Savasana.

Relentless Consistency

This phrase is one of the good things I've taken from my teaching experience while in Phoenix. This was the Principal's mantra for managing the kids at Carol G. Peck Elementary. It sounds very simple but it is extremely challenging for me! Probably the only thing that is ever consistent in my life is going to work (because I have to). I've tried being consistent with practicing yoga, going on walks, cleaning the house; I've read books that deal with 30 day programs only to get bored with them around day 11 or 12.  I admire people who have the self discipline to devote specific time in
their day for prayer/meditation, exercise, or a hobby.  At this point, there isn't one thing that I do like clockwork (which could just be part of my personality), but I feel it is important to be committed and consistent to something personal. A few months ago, I was going to enter my blog in a contest, but if you won you had to submit a blog 2-3 times a week. I had about six weeks until the deadline and I told myself that this was my chance to really push myself and write more. I could do it. And I didn't do anything. I think the deadline came and went without me publishing one post. So after that, it got me thinking that I'd like to practice being consistent. I'm starting here, with my blog! I plan on writing a new post every full moon. There is a little bit of fear involved because what if I don't have anything clever to write about? However, my hope is that this one little commitment every month will turn into a new strength of me following through with the things that I really want to do with my time.

*Note to reader: this blog has been sitting in my draft folder for over two months!! I still plan on finishing those books...

Passionate about ...feet

I just got a new pair of shoes. They are New Balance, 5.5 D. Okay 5.5 wide. This is probably my sixth or seventh pair from New Balance, and the third pair I've gotten just for work.  Learning my exact shoe size and actually finding a shoe company that consistently makes my size has been, seriously, life changing. It happened on a beautiful day in Mammoth Lakes, CA. Two of my very best friends and I were exploring the town and surrounding hiking trails in early spring about five years ago. We stopped by one of the bigger sport shops in town, Footloose. After spending a few minutes browsing around, Jake and Jaime asked to try on shoes. This was when the flood gates opened. I can't remember the guy's name, but he measured their feet fearlessly (even though Jake had some major talons). To their surprise, he suggested a size bigger than they usually wore. They were confused and that is when the foot man busted out a skeletal model of the human foot, pointed out several pressure points and demonstrated how it moved and the pressure changed as it went through it's motions. I was so impressed and moved because he was so animated and clearly very passionate about feet! That was when I had him measure my feet and learned that I have pretty much been stuffing my feet into a too small shoe, which would explain my callouses and pain in the ball of my foot after a busy day on my footsies. I didn't go out and get a pair right away, it took a couple more years for me to try the size he suggested. I was in Phoenix, teaching third grade, and running around like a mad woman. My feet were killing me at the end of the day, and they were even worse at the end of the week. They hurt so bad that I went to the doctor to see if there was something seriously wrong. I explained how my toes were wierd so maybe that was part of the problem..he laughed and then asked if I was wearing GOOD shoes. (Well, not really, but they were cute!) That day I ordered my first pair of 5.5D running shoes, and week later, no more foot pain! Now I'm able to go on a 10 mile hike or work a double at a busy restaurant with totally happy feet; life is good!

Share your passion and you could change someone's life!

Our Beautiful Messes

During a recent employment stint at a corporate coffee house, one of my co-workers laughed through her frustration, "Gaaa, I swear I spend most of my time here cleaning up after myself!" It was so irritating because we always had a long list of "deep cleaning" that we were supposed to get done sometime during our shift, but between cleaning up after ourselves and customers, it would rarely get done. And how appropriate to the bigger picture! Days rarely go as they are planned because more often than not, we have to wait in the emergency room after a fall down the stairs, spend time explaining to the officer why we were speeding in a school zone, or come back to work with three times the workload because we played hookie the day before.  Oh, our beautiful messes and how all of the unplanned spills turn into our amazing daily lives!

My most recent spill...

Life Finds a Way

"You're implying that a group composed entirely of female animals will...breed?"

"No, I'm simply saying that life...uh...finds a way."

Name that movie...
If you guessed Jurassic Park, you'd be correct. Dr. Ian Malcolm makes that comment as he is touring the inner workings of the lab inside the park. As the movie unfolds, we find out that he is correct in his theory. The scientists at Jurassic Park fill in the missing dinosaur DNA with frog DNA; unfortunately it is a species of frog that can change their sex if need be.

While camping this summer, a campsite host asked me if I had heard of the new breed of bear. He informed me that Polar Bears and Grizzly Bears were mating. In my head it made sense, I've heard the concern of the ice caps melting, which would force Polar Bears further and further south...and maybe running into a Grizzly..? It got me thinking, what if in a few hundred years, there will only be cross breeds of Polar Bears? I looked into it when I got home and sure enough it is rare, but these hybrids do exist in both captivity and the wild. It seems to me that these bears are making due with what's in front of them, even if it is normally unnatural for bears to mate outside of their species. The unofficial name of this bear is "Pizzly" if the father is a Polar Bear and "Grolar" if the father is a Grizzly. (wikipediea)

Another example of life finding its way are fire climax pines. These are types of pine trees like the Monterey Pine and the Pond Pine, that actually depend on forest fires to reproduce. Their seeds are stuck inside the cones for years until a forest fire kills the parent tree and the heat of the fire opens the cones, releasing the seeds. What an amazing adaptation. Mother Earth always knows how to adjust to the obstacles she is faced with everyday!

Our mountains suffered a forest fire a couple of summers ago. I had close friends who had to evacuate their homes. The fear of having to leave got to me a little bit, but we were lucky and only saw the smoke on our horizon. I am glad to say that some of the homes in Running Springs have been rebuilt. Unfortunately wild fires are something that you live with and have to expect when you are living in the forest. But now it is great to see the forest rebuilding itself, like it always has.

During these tough economic times, I am looking to life and nature as my guide..it will find its way, adapt, and rebuild itself.

Taken off of 3N16 in the San Bernardino National Forest. Signs of regrowth amongst a burnt forest!

Changing of Seasons

I took this picture about a week before I got married. It was still pretty warm and felt like summer, but here was a vibrant red leaf signaling the coming of another changing season. Time for football and back to school jitters, hoodies and pumpkin spice lattes. The same goes for me; I still feel the same, but there's a wedding band on my left hand symbolizing the big change that is going to be evolving in my future days. Time for true patience, true kindness, and true selflessness.

Only God knows what the change in seasons will bring; will this be a heavy winter with endless snowfall? Will both my husband and I have our health and prosperity for the years to come? This I do know: I've got one hell of a snow shovel!

The Wise Fairy

I don't like to put stickers on my car. I don't have one of those, "He bought it, I got it" licence plate frames either. I absolutely don't have any beanie babies on my dashboard. The only thing that really personalizes my car is the big dent in the back and my little smart-fairy-Medusa toy. I received this lovely little fairy(I think that's what she is) from a student. Now, this wasn't one of my permanent students from when I had a full time teaching position. I was only this child's substitute teacher for that day only. We had known each other from morning recess to lunch recess, when she offered me this toy. She came back from lunch and said, "I want you to have this," shoved it into my hand, put her arms around my waist (yes, my waist, she was only in second grade, so she was shorter than me), and gave me a squeeze. I asked her if she was sure, as it was obviously brand new; it still had the wrapper and it still smelled of McDonald's french fries. She put her hands behind her back, nodded and swayed her shoulders back and forth a few times. I was so moved that this child so freely gave her brand new toy to an almost complete stranger. That is why I've kept this little fairy in my car for over four years now, she reminds me to be a selfless giver. That is probably the best thing I've learned from kids; they so freely give their hearts and love to anybody! They don't think about it, they just feel it and act on it. I leave everyone with a challenge: give something today without expecting anything in return (not even a thank you!) for that is the true art of giving.

Simple Acts of Kindness

On the way home from Iowa a couple of weeks ago, I got the window seat on the plane. I sat next to a friendly lady who joked as I had to squeeze by her. She seemed to be a little nervous; she kept fidgeting with her book rather than reading it. I decided to make my usual airplane small talk: So...are you coming or going? She was going, this was going to be her first trip to California. How exciting!! Where exactly will you be staying? She was going to San Diego to see her son in the hospital. Not your usual first trip to the Golden State. It turns out she got an emergency phone call from her son the night before. He was injured while fighting in Iraq. She was just a bundle of nerves because the Army wouldn't disclose any specifc information over the phone. The only thing she was going on was that she had heard her son's voice and was on a plane at 8am the following morning. So there she sat, in between two strangers, not knowing the extent of her youngest (she has five!) child's injuries, is thousands of miles away from him, and is helpless to do anything for him in this moment. Picking up on her anxiety, the man in the aisle seat quickly started talking to her about her kids, her husband, her job, redecorating homes, traveling, his wife, his kids, his job..he kept her mind distracted for about an hour and half. I kept having the feeling I should jump in the conversation to help the time ease by for her, but I am in such a different phase of my life, I couldn't relate. I was also sitting there, feeling helpless, wanting to take some of this woman's anxiety away, but with no way to do it. I just sat in silence, listening about her and the aisle man's lives, just being present. Towards the end of the flight I remembered I had Thank You cards in my carry on (left over from my bridal shower). I have never been so thankful that I had actual cards to write a random person a thank you note. I wrote to her son, Micheal Russell, that I was thankful that he had put himself out there on the line for us, I thanked him for doing something so much bigger than his own life. When the plane had finally taxied to the Jetway and the captain had turned off the Fasten Your Seat Belt signs, I handed her the card and asked if she would give it to her son. Before I knew it, she kissed me and was holding me in a super tight embrace. She thanked the man on the other side of her for keeping her talking the entire flight. She had tears welled up in her eyes and was doing some deep breathing because she didn't want to lose it. I told her to have a safe drive and that I would pray for her family. She squeezed my hand and we went our separate ways.

Thirty...

Shortly after I turned 18, I got a tattoo. I had wanted one since I was about 15, so I had a few ideas about what to permanently decorate my body with. The one that I loved the most I created after a guided imagery exercise with Jaime's mom, Tammy. One of the gifts I had visualized receiving was a white dove, which represented purity. I knew I wanted some type of plant involved, but I wasn't sure what. My Aunt Heidi visited shortly after the dove idea and that's when I noticed that she had an ivy band tattooed around her ankle. I really liked the way it looked, but there was no meaning behind it for me. When my Grandpa Don passed away when I was 17, I got my meaning. Ivy was placed on his coffin by some of the gentlemen in the Elk's Club to symbolize brotherhood. I kind of made the brotherhood morph into "family". Now I had my design that totally represented who I was at the time. (A few years later the tattoo also took on the meaning of Purity and Poison, my own version of Yin and Yang: The Balance of Life).

My Grandpa Charlie passed away a few months after I had gotten my ink and my family and I were back in Iowa for the funeral. I remember when my Aunt Jacquie saw it, she told me, "When you turn 30 you're going to wonder 'Why in the world did I do that?'" I recall thinking, Even if I regret getting it, I'll always remember what it meant to me at the time and how I was young and impulsive and didn't care who I would be in 15 years...Her words have stuck with me ever since. Each birthday that has passed I have kind of evaluated if I still liked my tattoo....the answer is yes, it still represents me and what I believe. It still represents that young and hopeful girl. (Even if it is now considered a 'tramp stamp'!!)