Tuesday, July 31, 2012

It’s up to you to make the next move….  This is the fortune one of my friends received in their fortune cookie.  Liking the message it portrayed, I asked if I might have it to share.  My friend agreed….

So back to the fortune….  I love its simplicity, the thing in life I’ve found to be the most profound—simplicity.  Think about it.  All we do, all that we are, is directly correspondent to our next step.

Is it positive?  Negative?  Full of vengeful retribution?  I believe, just a my friend’s fortune foretold, that our future is directly dependant upon our next move.  Like a carefully orchestrated chess game, we can either squander the effort or make it count. The choice is ours.

Course, this doesn’t mean things will turn out our way or go according to our plan.  Though the two may parallel, one is not dependant upon the other.  Life is…well…life.  Sometimes it sucks.  Other times it makes us stand in awe.  But one thing is for sure; we are not the ones on control.  Least not ultimately. 

Things happen.   Stuff hits the fan.  We falter.  Thus is the way of life.  But…what we do after we falter… that’s what’s paramount, for that’s our next step.  The time when we rein control of our lives, if only for a moment or two.  But oh, what glorious moments those are….

Those are the times when we know with absolute certainly that whatever our future, we played an active role in planning out its course.  Good, bad or indifferent, the next move is up to us, so why not make it count?          

Monday, July 30, 2012

In the words of the owner of the brake shop I was at earlier today, “There are some days when everything that can be delayed or go wrong, does.” 

We’ve all experienced days like these.  Sometimes we lose our cool and stress over what ultimately we have no control over—wasted energy that would be better spent on more productive things.  Other times, we manage to hold it all together, going along with the flow, aware that some things are outside our control and that no matter how frustrated we get they’re going to play out as intended.  So why bother getting upset?

Imagine how much self-induced stress could be avoided if we adopted the latter mentality all the time rather than on occasions?  So what determines whether we lose our cool or are able to more readily adapt when life throws us curveballs?

Time management skills play an active role in determining where our stress breaking point lies.  Allowing adequate time to get to/from places and to accomplish what we intend—plus a time buffer—can go a long ways towards lowering our stress levels when things go wrong or take longer than originally planned.  Likewise, being realistic about how much we can get accomplished within a specified time also helps maintain manageable expectations.  For example, aware that one has an appointment to be at in twenty minutes is not the time to decide to squeeze in one more chore that should only take fifteen minutes. 

Attempting to fill one’s to-do list with an unrealistic number of tasks in a compressed time frame isn’t always the best plan of attack.  Sure, you may get lucky and pull it off…if…everything goes exactly as planned.   But really, how often does life play out in the exact tempo and to the same rhythm as we’d hoped/counted on?  I believe that whenever possible, it’s better to leave one’s self a buffer.  Why? Cause frankly, life has an interesting sense of humor and enjoys coupling with Murphy and his little law that says, whatever can go wrong…will.    

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Bumped into an actor/stuntman/double friend of mine while heading up my favorite mountain trail this afternoon.  Hadn’t seen him in a week, so it was nice to pause and get caught up.  He shared how he’d chased off a brown bear the week before.

Cool!

Bears are common in our mountains.  My thought is that as long as one remembers that we are guests in the bear’s territory, then things have a way of turning out with happy endings.  Least, that’s the way it’s turned out for me my entire life with the many bear encounters I’ve had.  Course, sadly, there are those who don’t share my utter respect for nature and would have folks foolishly believe that we humans have more right to live in the hills and mountains than the resident bears. 

This mentality managed to recently get a 700-pound, male, brown bear removed from our local mountain and relocated to another area.  To me, this is sad…just…plain…sad!  Again, as long as folks maintain the mentality that we are guests in the bear’s domain, then all will turn out well.  But folks just can’t seem to relent their utter need to dominate all things, nature included.

My actor, stuntman/double friend of mine shares my respect for nature and all her magnificent creatures.  And…like me, he’s sadly aware that there are clueless individuals who enter into the bear’s territory, setting themselves up for harm. 

Such was the case last Thursday, when my friend, taking a few minutes to relax at the summit of the mountain, looked across a saddle of land and noticed a woman coming his way.  Carrying his gaze farther, he noticed a brown bear, approximately 350 pounds, between the woman and where he was.  My friend noticed that the woman was clueless to the proximity of the bear and that she was headed straight for it—too preoccupied with be-bopping along to the tunes that played in her headphones, which blocked out all surrounding sound.

Lovely!

Not wanting to have the woman get hurt, my friend decided to take matters into his own hands.  Like me, he’s encountered wild brown bears throughout his life.  And each encounter has ended without anyone getting hurt, the bears and him respecting and understanding one another.  So too, was to be the case this day.

My friend began making as much noise as possible to draw the bear’s attention, which had shifted to the unaware approaching woman, from him.  His tactic worked, him rewarded with the bear shifting its focus back on him.  Now walking towards my friend, the bear sniffed the air.  My friend increased his efforts to keep the bear’s attention by picking up nearby stones and tossing them in the air. 

The bear, realizing that my friend was not to be an easy target, paused, taking in his options.  Looking over its shoulder, it again noticed the still approaching unaware woman.  My friend tossed rocks at the bear to force it to shift its gaze to him. 

Did I mention that my actor/stuntman/double friend is 6 foot five and built like a god?  He is.  A powerhouse of muscles just waiting to be put into motion, he had no intention of backing down and letting the woman get hurt.  So he continued to toss rocks at the bear.  Not to hurt or hit it, but close enough to make it again focus on him.  Thus began the standoff between my friend and the bear, which finally decided my rock-throwing friend was just a bit too much of a bother.  So the bear decided to lumber its way down the ravine into the awaiting canyon. 

Meanwhile, the be-bopping woman came across my friend who flagged her to stop.  She did and removed her headphones to hear what he had to say.  He told her of and pointed to the bear that was heading further down the canyon.  The woman blanched.  Then she thanked my friend for his efforts.  In return, he suggested that the woman turn around and head the way she’d come to avoid any possible contact with the bear.  Wisely, the woman turned off her music, took out both her headphones and followed my friend’s advice.

This is an example of one of the things I love most about hiking my favorite mountain.  How those of us who are regulars not only look out for one another, but how we also keep our trained eyes peeled to help total strangers—those individuals we’ve never met and will likely never have any further contact with.  So why do we look out for others?  Simple.  Cause it’s the right ting to do.  And…simply put, it’s the best way we know to maintain the delicate balance between nature and humans who frequent the same vicinity. 

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Once again, those little slips of paper I find in fortune cookies came through with another gem.  This one said: If you never change your mind, then why have one?  How perfect is this?  Profound.  Succinct.  Logical.  Absolutely true.  Doesn’t get much better.

There are times, and I’m guilty of this, when folks stubbornly stick to their original plan.  No matter that life and every surrounding circumstance is screaming that doing so is the wrong idea.  So why do we do this?  Simple.  Pigheadedness.  Really, there’s no other name to call it.  We get stuck in our own groove, unable or unwilling to see what steps need to be done to get us out.  Instead, we carry on, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, clinging to what we originally thought was the best plan of action instead of assessing the situation during and making necessary changes.

After I’ve found myself doing this, I can’t help but laugh at how silly my actions were.  How I managed to make things worse by refusing to change my mind mid-event.  Like my fortune cookie said: If I never change my mind, then why have one?        

Friday, July 27, 2012

As a writer, I’m a voracious reader.   I suppose the two go hand-in-hand.  Least they do for me.  I consume at least 1600 pages of text per month and love discovering new authors.  Though they may not be new to the writing world, the books I find and read are new to me.  I devour many with an insatiable appetite, as if their very words are the nutrients I need to sustain my body.  Well…if not my body, then certainly my mind.

Every once in a while, I come across an author’s works that ignite my prodigious thirst for reading.  Faster and faster my eyes fly over their words.  Pages get gobbled up.  My mind races with the possibilities of what will come next.  What gem of writing skill I’ll stumble upon.  And yet, through it all, time seems to slow, or rather, it seems to not exist at all, me having fallen into an alternate universe where neither time nor space matter.  Where the only significance is the way the author orders his/her words.  How the plot twists.  The eloquence with which the author paints the pages with their words, each leaving an indelible mark on my psyche. 

I’m currently reading just such a book.  By just such an author.  It’s called The Shadow of the Wind, written by Spanish author Carlos Ruiz Zafon.  I couldn’t begin to tell you how the book’s storyline will end.  Or what next great find the characters will discover.  But what I can reveal is that reading Carlos’s words—each and every one of them—is like diving into a pool of delectable delights where my entire being is bathed in a wash of eloquently sequenced words whose portrayed visual images allow me to drift to places only one’s creative mind can reach.

Carlos’ style of writing, least in this book, is an intoxicating cocktail of a theatre narrator, someone telling their life story as well as a novelist spinning a hopelessly addictive piece of fiction.  Though my time for reading is sparse right now, I thrill over my opportunities to devour yet another of his chapters.  Each one, as corny as it may sound, equates to my taking a vacation…a beautiful never-want-it-to-end holiday that revitalizes and inspires me.

Rare finds such as this author and his story are amongst the sparks that kindle the embers for my own writing.  And so, I’ll continue reading as much and as often as time allows, for doing so provides a beautiful plate glass window through which I’m able to view the world of possibilities.  

Thursday, July 26, 2012

For as long as I can recall, it breaks my heart to see an animal suffer.  And if that same animal is a baby…well…something deep within me shatters. 

Early this morning, I let my dogs, Sadie and Foster out back.  They immediately went to lie down on either side of something.  At first, I thought it was perhaps a stuffed toy Foster had snuck outside.  Taking a closer look, however, I realized it was a baby possum, about six months old.  Sadie and Foster’s body language was clear—they were protecting the baby, not wanting to hurt it.

I called them in and went to take a closer look.  The baby, a girl, was curled up, her tail wrapped around her, eyes closed, as if in sleep.  I wondered….  I used a pole to gently nudge her tail.  Much to my relief, she straightened her tail in protest to my poking it.

But there she laid, eyes still closed.  I looked carefully and realized her breathing was steady with no difficulty. 

Yay!

Eyes still closed and laying on her right side, the baby possum stretched out her left front paw and covered her darling nose, as if to hide. 

Awww….

Her eyes then opened.  Not all the way, but enough to let me know she was waking up.  Still covering her button nose, the baby stretched out her back left leg.  I was encouraged to see her able to move and still breathing steady and with ease.  But I was concerned, for the outside temperature was quickly rising and the shade she was laying in would soon vanish….

My daughter and granddaughter joined me in scrutinizing the poor baby.  Weren't sure what we should do.  We discussed moving her to a more protected area of the yard, but were afraid of injuring her.  And so we watched her.  My granddaughter, Kai, was utterly thrilled with the tiny baby lying before her.  It resembled nothing she’d ever spied before.

Kai beamed a radiant smile, eyes sparkling, as the baby possum opened both its eyes wide and looked directly at us.  Her enthusiasm overflowing, Kai jumped up and down.  Her feet pounding the concrete scared the baby possum that tried to hiss a warning.  But no sound came from the baby, only the mouth movements of a frightened animal trying to growl and get up, unable to do either. 

My daughter and I told Kai she needed to stop jumping up and down.  That doing so was scaring the baby who had a booboo.  Kai’s hand flew back to her bottom and she said, “Poopoo?”

Laughing, I said, “No, sweetie, the baby isn’t going poopoo.  It’s got an owie.”

Understanding and not wanting to further frighten the baby, Kai immediately stopped jumping and looked at the fallen possum with the greatest concern.  I carefully scanned it and noted that it was able to move its head, three of its four legs, entire spine, mouth, tongue and tail.  The only thing that appeared wrong was that its right front leg wasn’t moving, though it could flex the toes on that foot.

Hmmm….

It was then I decided to call animal control, not wanting the baby to suffer.  I got hold of dispatch that called me back almost immediately.  They arrived at our house less than twenty minutes later.  But it was too late, as the baby possum had taken her last breaths only minutes before their arrival.  The male and female officers were both sad that the baby hadn’t made it, having hoped for a better outcome.  And they’d come with such haste to help it….

With nothing left to do, they gently took the baby’s now limp body and left.  My heart was heavy with sadness.  After the officers had gone, I let Sadie and Foster out back.  I watched with growing sadness as they both ran for the spot where they’d last seen the baby possum.  Sniffing the area and not finding her there, they looked from the spot to me and back again several times, the greatest concern on their faces.  Something deep inside me shattered.  That piece that always does when an animal suffers.  Dies.  And that this time it had been a baby who appeared to be healthy….  Yeah…that made it worse—much worse. 

The positive out of this was how much love and respect was shown to the baby possum by one and all during its final time.  How, though the baby did die, I hope it could sense that we meant it no harm—quite the opposite.     

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Yesterday, I blogged about how finding one’s center/balance can allow them to navigate life’s turbulent waters while maintaining their true nature.  Some may have wondered how one goes about discovering their center/balance.  With a little practice and patience, finding a direct path to one’s centeredness isn’t hard.

When in the midst of life’s challenges, a person must remind themselves to take a step back, inhale deep breaths and actively seek their balance rather than give into outside pressures to cave or act in ways that would disallow them being able to hold their heads up high.  Doing so takes practice, but the rewards are monumental and well worth the effort.

Discovering a direct path to one’s centeredness can be as simple as going for a walk.  Taking a run.  Hiking a mountain.  Swimming laps.  Feeling the freedom of riding a horse.  Knitting.  Sewing.  Crocheting.  Reading.  Getting lost in music.  Pausing the world to watch a stunning sunset.  Gazing over the ocean as her magnificent waves lap at the shore.  Meditating.  Dancing.  Doing yoga or Pilates.  It could even involve spying a flock of birds, their winged flight allowing them to seemingly fly away from life’s woes. 

Whatever activity you choose, it should be one that brings you deep happiness.  Enough so to steer the logical part of your brain away from your woes.  You need to engage the more creative part of your mind.  The part that isn’t obsessing over whatever’s challenging you.  By doing so, you allow yourself a spell of time to breathe—take long calming breaths—as you turn deep within yourself.  The deeper you turn, the more the world’s woes will slip away.  Or at least they’ll loose some of their overwhelming qualities.

I’m not suggesting that you disappear deep within—forever, just long enough to relax a bit so that when you do re-emerge, you’ll be calmer and more able to deal with…whatever, confident that your inner strength will see you through.  In my humble opinion, that inner strength begins with finding one’s centeredness/balance, which will allow individuals to navigate life’s troubles waters with dignity and grace while remaining true to their nature.                  

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Had this thought pop into my head earlier today: finding one’s center/balance equates to them being able to navigate life’s troubled waters while remaining true to their nature.  I find this important, for it’s when we’re stretched to our maximum levels that our tendency is to give in to outside pressures that might have us sacrifice what we believe in.  How we know we should treat others.  How we should conduct ourselves in order to be proud of our actions. 

Taking the time to find our center/balance in the midst of life’s storms may seem like a waste of time.  Or that it takes more effort than it’s worth.  Neither is true.  In fact, I believe it’s exactly during these troubled times that we must, must, must take extra moments…or more…to ground ourselves.  Reconnect with the morals and standards we hold dear.  Those things that guide our actions and afford us the luxury to hold our heads high, confident that we did the best we could, no matter how challenging the situation.

So for me, when times progress to their toughest and I feel like everything is caving in on me, I take a few deep breaths and remind myself to find my center/balance, for without that, navigating life’s troubles waters will seem insurmountable and I may be tempted to relent to pressures to sacrifice being true to my nature.      

Monday, July 23, 2012

A friend of mine made an interesting observation yesterday. They commented on how the more they get to know people, the more annoying those individuals can become.  That made me laugh, for I knew what they meant.

When we first meet an individual, some of those seem appealing, as if we might really want to get to know them.  With some, that works out just fine.  But with others, the more we’re around them, the more their idiosyncrasies jump to the forefront, blocking out any other redeeming qualities they may have.

Not that I don’t enjoy those who are different.  In fact, the majority of my friends wouldn’t know where to fit on the “normal” scale—myself included.  I embrace differences and things that make folks unique. 

But that’s not what my friend was referring to.  Instead, they meant the annoying habits people have.  Or the way they treat others.  Or how they’re whiney, judgmental or needy.  These idiosyncrasies can be deal breakers when adding new friend to one’s list.  As soon as these characteristics begin to reveal themselves, they roar their heads in front of the person.  As a result, they block out the lesser, possibly more appealing, qualities that end up slipping by the wayside, overshadowed by the annoyances that seem to have grown to monstrous levels. 

The irony is, if we keep our eyes open—truly wide open—and see individuals for what they are rather than what we hope they’ll be, we can avoid having those “annoying” individuals infect our lives with the chaos and drama that seems to accompany them.      

Sunday, July 22, 2012

An interesting thing happens when one hits middle age…and beyond.  Least it has for me.  When I look around at my friends, some of whom are my age, others are older, and yet others are younger, I’ve learned a certain quiet calm that allows me to more deeply appreciate what we share together, for as I look at those friends, I’m reminded of just how precarious life is.  How, unless we take the time to appreciate and acknowledge those whom we hold dear, we may not get a second chance.

Last weekend, I had the privilege to attend a dear friend’s birthday party—most likely their last.  Life has not been kind to this friend, at least not in the health department.  As a result, this friend is hooked to an oxygen tank wherever they go.  And even with that, many breaths are labored, some cease all together and there have been numerous trips and admittances to the hospital where those surrounding this friend, held our breath and hoped for the best.

Another friend, who’s twenty-five years my junior, is also struggling.  Seeing her, now in a wheelchair with three of her organs now paralyzed and facing chemo on top of the unrelenting other treatments, not to mention surgeries every week or so, well…yeah…you get the idea….  Every once in a while, her spirits fall as happened a few weeks back when she’d returned from yet another surgery and lengthy stay in the hospital.  Determined to lift her spirits, I gave her the chance to talk about how she was feeling—really feeling, not the front she puts on for the rest of the world.  The one that exhausts what little energy she does have.  At first, my girlfriend was resistant, but then she opened up when she realized I was there to listen—honestly hear what she had to say.  And I did so with no judgment, need to make her feel better or to have her slap on a happy face.  I wasn’t put off that as the words of her emotions spilled from her lips, they became more and more laced with the honest frustration, anger, sorrow and despair she feels.  In fact, I celebrated that my girlfriend honored me with opening up.  Venting some of the pressure that’s been building within her to the point of disabling her—more than her physical ailments.

Then there’s the friend who I’ll celebrate their birthday with today.  A friend, a few years older than me, who has battled and overcome, not once, but twice, lymphomic cancer.  Though we celebrate this friend’s victory, we know fate, as cruel a mistress as she can be, might rip that sense of conquering away at any moment.  The next test results may come back abnormal or with elevated results.  And so, with each and every struggle this friend endures, there are those of us who surround them, allowing them a safe haven in which to be honest with how they are truly feeling while celebrating in the opportunities we have to share together, because, yeah…those may not last….

Like I said, an interesting thing happens when one hits middle age…and beyond.  Least it has for me.   Looking at my friends whom I hold dear, I’m reminded of just how precarious life is.  How, unless we take the time to appreciate and acknowledge those whom we hold dear, we may not get a second chance.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Yesterday, I began a two-part blog about what constitutes true beauty.  How everyone has hang-ups about their appearance.  How the media drives the frenzy to look beautiful—the media’s version of what true beauty is.  In addition, I tapped on how people’s self-images are often led by comments made by others.

As a result, we have perfectly healthy individuals literally starving themselves to death, suffering from other self-inflicted eating disorders and also allowing doctors to carve them up in order to obtain the unobtainable—a perfect body. 

But beauty doesn’t originate on the outside.  Instead, just as my girlfriend realized once rid of her abusive husband, it begins with a series of single thoughts that bubble up from deep within a person.  Some of those are self-led.  Others are the result of compliments received that boost a person’s moral and self-image.  Still more are a fusion of the two.

I wish with all my might that the media would cease the assault, as I view it, on how people should look.  What ideal beauty is.  Is an actress who’s spent thousands of dollars on clothing, hair, makeup, plastic surgery etc, not to mention all the photo editing that’s done to enhance her looks, any less lovely than a “simple” peasant out on the plains?  Or a native of Africa, gliding through life au-natural?  Is a burn victim unable to be beautiful simply because of some terrible tragedy?  I say, no. 

I believe on many occasions those who the media doesn’t focus on are the most stunning individuals.  They’re the ones who make me pause and take a second glance.  Why?  Simple.  If you take your time looking at people one thing becomes abundantly clear.  Beauty, real unadulterated beauty, radiates from within a person.  From there, it has to find a way out.  And it does. 

Next time you’re in a crowded area, take a few moments to view those around you.  Which ones have an extra bounce to their step?  An energy that’s not explained but draws in the onlooker?  Who that you view stands out from the crowd?  And why? 

I believe beauty transcends more than what a camera can capture.  Yes, looks can be appealing.  But beauty that effervesces from deep within a person, bubbling up like the magical bubbles in a champagne flute, that’s the beauty that calls to me.  It’s a mentality the individual has, a positive vibe, an energetic bounce to them that makes me view them as beautiful.  Looks, their physical appearance, that’s secondary.  To me, how a person acts, treats others, views life and whether they have a positive or negative energy, those are my markers for measuring beauty.  I wish the media would share and highlight that view. 

Friday, July 20, 2012

Body image.  Everyone has one or more hang ups about their body.  Doesn’t seem to matter if they’re a 10 plus on the rating scale.  Even those individuals have insecurities about how they look.  How sad.

I was talking with a girlfriend last night who’s five foot tall.  She has no hang ups about her height, but, after having her children, her husband had the audacity to tell her she was no longer pretty.  That her stretch marks, the very marks created on her body by their children growing inside her, made her unattractive.

WTH?! 

Thankfully, she saw the light and the marriage ended after he cheated on her.  There’s another happy ending to this story.  My girlfriend’s been taking Rumba classes and is thrilled with how much body sculpting is happening while she’s having fun.  She shared with me how she went to an event with a bunch of other women the other day, women she’s always thought were prettier and in better shape than her.  While looking around, my girlfriend smiled as she scanned the ladies and noticed that she was equally pretty and in better shape than many.

So what happened?  Did my girlfriend magically transform into a beautiful swan overnight?  No.  Basically, she got rid of her husband—an individual who daily poisoned her mind and derailed her self-confidence by being mean to her.  When a person, any person, is forced to live in negative surroundings, sooner or later, that negativity seeps into the fibers of their mentality, making them think less of themselves, as was the case with my girlfriend.  Get rid of the negative influence, surround yourself with positive, respectful people and you’re self-image is bound to soar to new heights.

Does this mean a person won’t still have body image insecurities?  No.  Unfortunately, the media taints our perception of what beauty—true beauty—is as they drive home the message that unless a person is beyond flawless then they aren’t beautiful. 

Tune in tomorrow to read more about what constitutes true beauty.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

What is it, I wonder, that makes a blog interesting?  Is it the insight of the author?  Their ability t stick to one subject?  Or flit with ease from one mentality to another, always eager to share some new gem of insight?  Is it controversy?  Positive thoughts?  Or a general make-you-feel-good-all-over-pick-me-up type feeling the reader’s left with that makes them keep coming back to read a particular author’s blogs? 

I’ve read the blogs of others and am always astounded with how well, if I actually know the author, their blogs reflect who they are.  The thoughts that tumble around in their heads.  The way they conduct themselves.  What makes them tick and how that ticking flows with the universe.

So I wonder, what makes my blogs interesting enough to have readers return to read it daily? 

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

What makes some of us possessive of our nature—Mother Nature, that is?  Is it in our DNA?  Something that’s infused each and every fiber of our being since before we can recall?  Or is it something more sinister?  Something deep inside us that ticks away individual moments as if they might be the last?  As if these precious moments are all we have left?  That if we don’t go the extra mile to speak out for and protect Mother Nature’s wonders (these precious moments), then others will surely destroy that which we covet?

Yesterday, I blogged about when uninformed, inexperienced and careless individuals put themselves and others at risk to venture into the belly of Mother Nature.  Not that they take tentative steps or slowly build themselves to the necessary level.  No, what this particular type of person does is jump, without looking, into situations they have no business entering into, least not in that manner.  Ones that could get them or others hurt.

It’s the same careless thoughtless acts that cause many forest fires.  Those mighty infernos that obliterate plentitudes of innocent wildlife and lay waste to what was once a flourishing land.  Tossed aside cigarette butts…matches that aren’t quite snuffed out…these are the culprits careless people bring to nature that lays waste to her glory. 

So, too, is the case when sudden masses of individuals flock to extreme mountain trails.  How they discover them, I haven’t a clue.  And why those particular trails?  Why not something less intimidating?  More manageable for the beginner?  Someplace that won’t put them or innocent others at risk or lay bare the land—the beautiful land—to careless acts that destroy it?

I can’t recall a time when Mother Nature didn’t call to me.  When the hushed murmur of her melody didn’t caress my spirit and drive me to discover more about her.  Want to explore her more.  Crave all that she could teach me.  And in that quest of gained knowledge, drove me—has driven me—the entirety of my life to surround myself with nature.  To embrace her magnificence.

Call me a tree hugger.  A nature lover.  One who glorifies in basking in all Mother Nature has to offer.  Whatever you call me, know with absolute certainty that I am fiercely protective of all Mother Nature has to offer. 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Ahhh…the marvels of my favorite mountain trail where there’s never a dull moment.  A couple of days ago, it was a virtual nature-gone-to-the-nth-degree experience.  While trekking along the 6.33-mile course, I encountered no less than seven individual deer sightings, several of which included a mommy and her new baby. 

BTW, if you’ve never had the occasion to see a baby deer, I highly advise doing so.  Full-grown deer are beautiful, downright elegant in the regal manner in which they maneuver themselves.  But baby deer…they’re beyond cute with uber soft looking fur that’s so fluffy I have to restrain myself from running my fingers through it.

On that same nature-gone-to-the-nth-degree experience, I spotted two incredible silver foxes frolicking with one another in addition to countless sightings of irresistible squirrels.  For a change, there wasn’t a single snake sighting, which I found odd.  By the end of my hike, I had a warm and fussy all over feeling.

Then there was today’s hike that I affectionately dubbed weirdoes on the mountain.  I seriously am confused by the number of individuals I encounter on my mountain trail who haven’t a clue where they are.  Routine questions I’m asked while on the trail include, how long is this trail?  Do you know where it ends?  Have you ever made it round the whole trail?

These may seem like innocuous queries, but allow me to set the stage for you as you keep a few things in mind.  This particular trail is listed as an extreme trail.  And it’s now summer temperatures that routinely hover around 90-100 degrees.  There are no water sources along the route.  Also, spurs to the trail appear at random without clear-cut signage indicating where those trail heads lead.  And…this is a biggie…the length of the main trail loop is clearly indicated several times at the start of the hike on signs bigger than a person’s head and clearly displayed at eye level. 

Bearing all this in mind, I’m astounded by the number of folks who ask me—en route—how long the hike is. 

What?  Didn’t they read the signs provided? 

In addition, there are the folks who, obviously out of shape, blindly head up the mountain believing…believing…I don’t know what the heck they’re thinking.  Perhaps they believe the good hiking fairies will come and save them when they get in over their heads.

Yeah, right, cause that’s likely….

In addition, I constantly come across folks who are absolutely clueless as to common-sense precautions they should take when hiking a mountain for goodness sake.  These are so rudimentary as to include bringing water with them.  Wearing proper clothing.  Adequate shoes.  Don’t bring newborn babies up here.  Or tiny puppies that suffer from heat exhaustion unable to sweat to cool themselves.  Don’t, don’t, don’t, if you’re a lone female, put on your headphones and then cover your mouth with duct tape while hiking this trail.  And by all means, leave the church attire, including the high heels and roll-along luggage at home!  Yes, sadly, I’ve personally seen all this stupidness folks present.

I’ve been hiking this particular trail 5-7 days a week for fifteen years!  Until about a year and a half ago, I have never, never, never come across the sheer masses of individuals who now consider this their workout spot.  Not that I mind people taking an active role in improving upon their health.  Actually, I applaud such action.  But when they stupidly put themselves and others at risk, I have to protest.  Especially when it’s adding a huge financial burden to my particular community.  So much so, that our city will soon implement parking fees to offset the costs incurred by all those yahoos. 

Did I mention the routine weekend shuttle trucks that now drive this trail to pick up out-of-shape individuals and their pets that had no business trying to tackle a mountain trail like this in the first place?  And that cost is directly absorbed by my city.  My tax dollars offsetting the carelessness of individuals who aren’t mature enough to set their own limits.   I wonder what’s next?  When will the Disneyland shuttle tram begin traversing this particular extreme mountain trail, catering to the needs of uninformed, inexperienced, naive individuals who expect others to take responsibility for their carelessness?

It’s not often that I rant in my blogs.  In fact, I can’t ever recall I time when I have.  But…this…this utter lack of respect to those of us who do take precautions, educate ourselves and prepare before tackling a listed extreme mountain trail, this is too much.  It’s when I draw the line between being positive and turning the other cheek to standing up for my rights and the rights of my fellow responsible hikers/runners.

And so I ask.  What the heck is wrong with out-of-shape, uninformed folks that makes them dare to traverse a mountain trail that, when they stand at the base of it, forces them to crane their necks waaaaaay back in order to see the sheer elevation increase they’ll be hiking?

Seriously, is common sense becoming extinct?      

Monday, July 16, 2012

Yesterday, I began a blog about Shiatsu massages that I’ll finish today….

Used to be that a person could obtain a Shiatsu massage from higher end massage locales.  Not so any more.  Not sure exactly why this is.  Seems whenever I need a Shiatsu massage, usually only once a year, to allow me stand up straight from my spinal injury getting out of whack, I’m told that the one individual who used to provide Shiatsu massages at the locations no longer works there.

Hmmm….

Is this because something went wrong with one of their given massages?  Or is it yet another sad sign of the failed economy?  Or…could it be that due to the higher trained nature of those who can give Shiatsu massages needing higher pay, thus making them one of the first things companies eliminate when needing to tighten their expenditures?

Whatever the cause, it’s becoming harder and harder to find someplace—any place—that offers these specialized Shiatsu massages.  And I for one suffer as a result.  As mentioned, I don’t go all out and “treat” myself to one of these on a regular basis.  Instead, my aim is to keep my body physically fit and functioning by maintaining a higher-than-normal workout and stretching routine from the average individual.  I do so in order to continue enjoying my body’s ability to move and function fairly regularly.   But…every once in a while, things get out of whack.  And from the near fifteen years of physical therapy I’ve undergone due to various serious injuries, the quicker I can get things back into alignment, the better off I am and quicker my recovery time.  Enter the Shiatsu massage.

By undergoing one of these massages as soon as possible, following my body being weighed down by previous injuries, I’m able to pull off a full and complete recovery in an hour or two.  Without a Shiatsu massage, however, the tensed muscles and ligaments surrounding my spinal injury contract to the point of having me literally standing crocked for two or more weeks, constant pain the result.

So why, you ask, don’t I just make an appointment with a doctor?  Simple.  Have gone that route.  But getting in to be seen by a specialized spinal doctor takes time.  In that time, my old injury is allowed to fester.  Then, once I see the doctor, they want to send me to more physical therapy.  Though I’m not opposed to physical therapy, this, too, takes more time.  Time spent waiting.  Having my injury assessed.  More pain and discomfort results.  But…if I can get in for a Shiatsu massage, these further inconveniences magically go away and by the time I leave from my massage, I’m able to stand fully upright with all my pain having been left behind during the massage itself.

So why do I bring this up?  I’m a firm believer in always having options.  In a person taking control of their own lives rather than letting others dictate how, when and why they should do things.  So it seems simple logic to me that if you’ve found something that works more effectively than the alternative conventional methods, why not put it into use whenever possible?  For me, that’s what getting a Shiatsu massage is all about—me taking control of my own destiny.        

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Ever had a Shiatsu massage?  Shiatsu refers to a type of Japanese deep tissue massage that uses applied pressure to specific points to relieve tension, similar to how acupuncture works.

The first time I encountered a Shiatsu massage, it was called anything but.  Instead of it being referred to as a massage that would have conjured up nice mental images of a relaxing massage meant to calm my body, what I went through was called physical therapy for one of my spinal injuries. 

As mentioned above, regular massages are soothing.  Calm the body.  Shiatsu massages, though the end results can be rather amazing and releasing, are anything but relaxing.  When a Shiatsu massage is needed, it’s usually due to a deep underlying ailment that simple stretching and/or rubbing out with a conventional massage won’t help.  Enter the Shiatsu.

Shiatsu massages pinpoint energy and direct pressure to the affected area.  No delicate dancing around the affected area.  These massages can be tough to take.  Especially if an injury is what’s being treated, seeing as the targeted area is already on hypersensitive mode.

Giving an effective Shiatsu massage takes inordinate strength.  The irony is, that whenever I’ve had an effective Shiatsu massage, it’s been administered by someone small in stature with tiny hands.  But don’t let the person’s size or the smallness of their hands fool you.  Those hands are tough as steel. 

Those who know how to give Shiatsu massages are trained to do so.  Not just anyone can give this type of massage since additional injury can result if the person isn’t highly aware of and trained to recognize key pressure pints and how the body works.

Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion to this blog…. 

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Lackadaisical days of summer….  It’s what many of us lived for as kids.  Know I did.  That time when school didn’t crowd my joy of being able to spend entire days outside: exploring, climbing, pushing my physical limits, honing my skills, relaxing, etc. 

My step dad once made me promise to never lose site of the little kid who dwelled within me.  He adored my thirst for life.  My positive attitude.  My enthusiastic bundle of energy that never seemed to be exhausted.  I recall distinctly when he asked that of me.  And of my commitment to do as he asked.  Since then, you know what?  I’ve managed to maintain that promise.

Yes, there have been spells when acting upon it has been harder than others.  That’s just life.  But for the most part, I make it a point to take pleasure in the simple things.   Those things that most excited me as a little girl.  The ones that drove me to play hard till I was exhausted.  And when I got tired, instead of stopping, I’d simply slow my pace a bit, allowing myself a respite during which to recharge.

I still play hard.  I love to explore, climb, push my physical limits, hone my skills, relax, etc.  Only these days, I do it with added knowledge I didn’t have as a kid.  Back then, I just knew how much I enjoyed doing all the above-mentioned.  But now, not only do I still maintain that mentality, but also I do so with the added knowledge that remaining true to the kid in me—that unquestionable part that oft drives me—is not only fun but also imperative to my sense of fulfillment.  And though I endeavor to pull this off during all seasons, summer—the lackadaisical days of summer—is when it all just seems to…click best.