Girls Best Friend

Pictures: All Kinds of Christmas Love

Reflections

Beautiful dark morning runs

Blog: Best Run -Grattitude!

Thanksgiving Day Park Pictures

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Risk and Sighting

Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others. ~ Brene Brown

I had an opportunity to set some boundaries in a relationship this week, which never seems to get less uncomfortable for me. Over and over again I struggle to remember that setting boundaries is about loving myself, not about NOT loving someone else.  I know so many people fight this same battle, caught between the fear of disappointing someone else, the fear of not being liked and the fear of rejection.  

When I purposely look at it from a different perspective, it creates a shift which allows me to see things differently which then means I feel them differently. 

What is this situation/person teaching me? 

 If I can find the opportunity in the situation, the lesson in the moment and the value in the experience, I am moving in the right direction.  If all I can experience is the suckiness of the emotions, I know I am stuck.  Refer back to "what is this teaching me?" 

How will this look 6 months from now, a year from now?  

When I remember to remember the way I feel right now is not how I will always feel, and that no matter how big it seems in my head and heart right now, it won't always be that big, I am able to shift from drowning in the emotions and make my way back to the surface. 

I think of this much like the process of sighting.  When I was training for Ironman, swimming was my biggest challenge.  In the process of learning how to swim I spent hours off course because I didn't know how to sight.  Slipping on my goggles I would put my face in the water, completly focused on breathing and keeping my body afloat.  In short, I have described it as a desperate effort, every second, not to drown.  

I was so focused on this in fact that I would churn through the water, focused only on not drowning and I would forget, again and again, to look up to see where I was going.  In fact I hated looking up. Every time I pulled my head up, I would lose momentum, my feet would drop causing my body to drag, and worst of all I would experience the "oh shit" moment of failure because invariably I was way the hell off course.

 Eventually  I got better at it, although it remained a struggle for me. I was so desperate to keep moving, that I had to continuosly challenge my resisistance.  

Life seems to have a lot of similarities to swimming and sighting.  I have to remind myself that if I am looking up, looking out at my destination rather than frantically churning through the water, I can take a moment to breath and see what the stuff ahead looks like.  

So when I struggle to see the lesson or opportunity and I am stuck in how big the discomfort feels in the moment, I challenge my resistance and look out at the horizon.  It seems far away and sometimes feels like it will be so much work to get there, but I take a breath and start to move.  Even if it means I may disappoint someone or they may not like me.  

The Perfect Heart

The Perfect Heart by Priya Sher

A young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful
heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect.
There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
But an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, “Your heart is not nearly as beautiful
as mine.”
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly but full of
scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in … but they didn’t fit
quite right and there were several jagged edges. The young man looked at the old man’s heart
and laughed.
“You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine … mine is perfect and yours is a
mess of scars and tears.”
“Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking … but I would never trade with you. You see,
every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love….. I tear out a piece of my heart
and give it to them … and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place
in my heart but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges.
“Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away … and the other person hasn’t returned a piece
of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges … giving love is taking a chance. Although these
gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too … and I
hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true
beauty is?”
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man,
reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old
man.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred
heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart.
It fit …. but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love
from the old man’s heart flowed into his.
Published on October 4, 2010

An amazing weekend! Little Farmer, Amazing Sunsets, Group Cycle Ride

Saturday night sunset

 Sunday night sunset!

A Lens of Emotions

Sunset  September 27 2104

Pictures from kerrie

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Blog Post: The predictability of craziness

The predictability of craziness

One of my favorite things to do is hang out with my dogs. Most days I can't wait to get home from work to play with them.   We have our silly rituals and they love them as much as I do. 

So on Saturday when I was at home, sick and crabby, my sole consolation for missing a race was the puppy love I soaked up all day.  My four legged nurses stayed by my side and even upped the cuddle factor.  I can always count on them and the extra love feels extra good.

I can also count on mornings to start the same way every day.   It goes like this. 

The moment I am awake, Maggie stands over me, and smacks her paw in the middle of my face. After doing this once or twice she then sandwiches her little body lengthwise next to me,  as tight as she can and lays her head on my chest.    Ellie rubs my face with her cold wet nose, and after a few minutes of this will start to do Tigger circles.  This involves spinning and jumping at the same time, progressively getting closer until she lands on me.  Maddie, the most awkwardly beautiful klutz I have ever seen,  simply flops herself on the bed, lays lengthwise on top of me and then  paws at me endlessly if there is a split second I stop petting her.  After 5 minutes of pretending to be annoyed with this, but secretly loving the sameness and fun of it, I ask them who wants food.  Before I can even finish the question, they are in a flying leap off the bed and waiting  by the bedroom door. I then maneuver myself with acrobatic footwork just to open it.  Once the door is open they race down one flight of stairs, then the second, skidding to a stop just shy of the door.  Well most times it is just shy of the door.  Maddie has been known to slide into it.  Headfirst. 

Once business is taken care of outside, they skid back in the house and into the kitchen.  A new routine starts all over because it’s time to eat.

Night time is just as fun,, they wait until I am almost ready and then race up the stairs claiming their spots as though somehow there is a chance they won't get the same exact piece of space they lay in every night. I love the silliness, I love the routine, and I love how predictable it is.  Most of the time anyway.  Except at nap time. 

The only time I ever take naps is when I am sick.  And I have to be pretty sick for it to qualify as nap worthy.  Today was nap worthy and I didn’t feel one ounce of guilt about it.  Snuggled in with my girls around me, I was excited about the thrill of tucking in. The result?

 I got exactly zero minutes of sleep.  Part of the reason was anytime I got remotely close to sleep I started to cough and would then have to settle back in.  The other contributing factors? Ellie, who lay tucked right up against me snores like an 80 year old fat man.  You may think I am exaggerating however I can provide audio proof.  Her little 50lb body actually shakes with each inhale and exhale and each snore seems to linger in the base of her throat, making the individual snore last just a little longer than it seems it should.  Occasionally she will snore so loud she wakes herself up and any attempts to wake her or reposition her head are met with an offended stare and an immediate return to her musical throat rattles.  This was topped off by two separate barking fits from Maggie my poodle warrior as she fought to save me and the house from an apparent imminent attack of invading but invisible forces. Add to this Maddie, who has no tolerance for tension of any kind, hearing the irritation in my voice when I wake Ellie or tell Maggie to be quiet, flops herself on me and paws incessantly at me.

I should have predicted this this is not the first time an attempt at napping has been derailed by canine loves.   But from the paw smacks in the face at 4 am to the complete inability to get a nap, I wouldn’t trade the craziness for a minute.

Blog Post: My Photos, My Moments

My photos, thousands of them, scattered throughout my computer and memory cards.  My phone holds yet another entire library of my life. The photos hold the stories of my life, the moments that make me feel something and the moments I instinctively try to hold tight to. They are grainy, off centered, have poor color, some have bad timing and many are less than flattering. It doesn’t matter. My photos and my stories matter. Each time I press the button I am appreciating the moment and capturing how significant it is in my life. I am immortalizing the beauty of the moment, the connection and emotion that is magical in my heart. It becomes a treasure I keep and go back to time and time again.  When I scroll through them, I don’t seem to care so much about the quality rather they bring a spontaneous smile to my heart, sometimes other emotions as well.  Sometimes I feel connection, sometimes comfort and sometimes the memories are bittersweet. Each one is a view from my corners of myself just as I saw it at that second. This morning as I held the camera high above myself to capture Maggie curled in my lap. I knew the photo itself, captured with the camera on my broken phone wouldn’t be a masterpiece.  The reason it mattered wasn’t in the quality, it was in the feeling of being so loved and of loving so much. Those are my stories, those are my photos.

Garth Brooks Concert

A lot of love and a bit of crazy