Release

 

Given all the flooding of late, we thought we would reflect back to August 2014 when flash floods gushed through Cave Creek, AZ. It is our hope that in a world that sometimes looks bleak, new consciousness is being revealed.

by Andrea  Chilcote

Did you hear about the rain in the Arizona desert? On Tuesday, a rapid-onset, torrential downpour wreaked havoc, as Mother Nature released a fury of energy in the form of flooding rains. It made the national news, and it made for yet another lesson in the form of a weather adventure.

On Monday of this week, I felt out of sorts. All day long. And “out of sorts” is not a usual state of being for this, um-mm, in-control sort of person. At any given time I might feel driven and productive or driven and agitated, but it’s not common for me to feel unclear, uncertain and a little bit sad. (At one point I teared up when I learned about the work anniversary of a mere acquaintance. Go figure). At the end of the day, it felt as though something was about to release – not just in me, but all around me.

The next morning, despite predictions of rain, I rose at 4:30 am to hike the dogs with my buddy Beth, before the temperatures rose. The atmosphere was heavier than I recall in 14 years of living in the desert. It was as if one could squeeze water from the air.

Beth and I cut our hike short as rain began to fall. Not long after arriving home, the deluge began, flooding the wash that crosses our road. No one was going anywhere – and I had to leave mid-morning for a flight.

Desert flash floods are so named because they seemingly come on in an instant. They also disappear quickly, as water seeps rapidly into the parched earth. So as expected, the 20 minute downpour was quickly a passing threat. But I sped up my preparations to leave, as another dark wall of rain was forming in the mountains to the north.

I don’t know if I should credit clear thinking, intuition, or luck, but we managed to leave the house, bound for the airport, just five minutes before the next enormous release in the Cave Creek area where I live.

Arthur still waiting to get through the wash and home three hours after taking me to the airport. Finally took off. Dogs and horse reportedly fine, thanks to Tracy. –Aug 19, 2014

This time, the flooding grew into rushing rapids that caused evacuations of people and animals from nearby homes. Thankfully, my family was safe and our home was spared of damage. My husband was stranded for five hours trying to cross the wash to get home, and my flight was delayed for hours. It was all a minor inconvenience compared to those who spent the night in Red Cross shelters.

Somehow, despite the stress of the day texting and emailing friends and family while traveling across the country, I breathed a sigh of relief as night came on. Release. I felt a release of pent-up energy that was both personal and shared. I slept soundly that night (albeit too short given my late arrival), knowing that the people and animals I love were safe and accounted for. I was safe too, with a renewed sense of calm.

Do you feel a release coming on? Have you recently let go of some belief or habit that no longer serves you? I have, and this week’s rain served as a symbol of its departure, grounding it in the depths of the earth where it will transform as all energy does. Judging from the fury of nature, we are undergoing collective transmutation.

The rushing water is, for me, a symbol of power. Energy is freed upon its release, and much is revealed once it has passed over. In a world that sometimes looks bleak, new consciousness is being revealed. And that realization fuels me on.

Good morning friends. Look what last night’s rain left us… –Aug 22, 2014

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Passion Revisited

by Andrea Chilcote

UPDATE: Andrea is happy to announce that Emmalee did find her forever home over the weekend. We hope her story of passion revisited inspires you.

Two weeks ago, with the help of many animal welfare angels, I rescued a young female husky from the county shelter. She was picked up as a stray after a passer-by tried to strangle her with his belt. Undaunted that she was malnourished, had tick fever, ear infections and a mass nearly blocking her left ear canal, I made a commitment to her care and named her Emmalee.

The kind owners and staff at Second Home Pet Resort allowed me to board her there at a much reduced fee, as my home is full with my three dogs. Shortly after arriving, Emmalee had surgery to remove the mass. She did very well, and the mass was benign, likely a result of untreated ear infections. She is being treated for tick fever, is symptom free, and will recover fully. And, she is enthusiastically eating healthy food and gaining weight. She is returning to her husky self – active, curious and fun-loving. Now, we wait for her perfect forever home to surface. And act of faith in action.

Déjà vu. I am reminded of my feelings the last time I embarked on a journey like this one, and the words from my 2013 post seem fitting.

It’s been said that we cannot think or act in love or in harm toward another without affecting, in some small way, all others including ourselves. This truth becomes more evident to me each and every day. We are all connected. What we think, say and do to members of our planet – people and animals, as well as our earth itself – has profound and far-reaching impact.

Despite a full work schedule and many demands on my time, I am consumed by passion – compassion actually – for this sweet pup. And I know that many of you are equally consumed by passions of your own. Most all of us have some cause or mission that evokes a strong desire to contribute, make something better, or right a perceived wrong. We cannot help but be affected by circumstances that surround because we are in relationship to one another. We are connected.

I love words, and writing gives me an opportunity to study them. The word “passion,” describes the drive to action I have felt, and the deeper feeling underneath is “compassion.”  I was surprised to learn that the Latin root of the word passion is “suffering.” Compassion’s root is “to suffer with.” Ah, the addition of the word “with”… connection.

My drive to help this one dog could easily be snuffed out if I allowed myself to become overwhelmed by the great need beyond her’s. I’m reminded of the well-known starfish story in which a young girl’s refusal to be discouraged by the limitations of her own small efforts inspired others to join in and help. This is how connection works. We inspire one another.

What is your passion at this very moment? You need only to step out your own world for a mere minute and you’ll be able to feel it. Make a choice to meet suffering with love, whether through a simple kind thought or an action. You’ll inspire the same in others even if it’s invisible to you. It’s how it works.

Emmalee is a very special soul who will make a mark in some human’s life. Do you need the sweetness of a grateful friend and the antics of a husky personality? Our girl needs needs a forever home with a husky-savvy family. Can you help by sharing this message?

Rest By Any Other Name

by Andrea Chilcote

I’ve been busy. (“Ha ha,” you say. “Tell me something new.”)

Seriously, there is something new here. I have a lot going on, yes. But I also have this emerging core value I’ve been attending to. I haven’t found a just-right word for it yet, but self-regard comes close. It’s a familiar state of being, one I’ve honed for years now. And even though I genuinely feel such things as self-respect, compassion for my own shortcomings, and deservingness, my behavior doesn’t always align. I often “dis”-regard my own needs in light of an abundance of things to do and people to serve.

And so I get tired. Exhausted, sometimes.

Earlier this year, I decided something has to give. And the answer, I knew then and know still, is not to simply do less. It has more to do with the quality with which I carry myself through life than the length of my to-do list. It has little to do with the amount of hours I sleep and is more about what I do with the hours I’m awake. Regard for my own needs is paramount if I am going to truly contribute in this life.

In the last week, a friend (who knows of this new pursuit), has prefaced a number of statements with “If you’re not resting …” Each time I heard or read those words, I had a visceral reaction. I wanted to shout: “Of course I’m not resting, I’m busy.” Or, “I don’t need to rest – I’m energized.” At the same time I was thinking these thoughts, I was carefully managing my energy. Despite a packed work schedule, in the last three days I’ve made time for exercise, fun visits with friends, a great book, a good movie and a weekday lunch with Arthur.

After examining my reaction to my friend’s implication that I needed “rest,” I understood it. It’s the word, and what the word connotes to me.

Resting takes many forms of course. Some rest on the sofa while others rest on the dance floor. We can rest in motion, or rest … errr … at rest. Mental rest is different from physical rest. In my analysis of why the word itself produces such a reaction in me, I realized that I judge rest. In the crazy way I have it wired, some is deserved, some not. Some is for sissies, and some is to be savored like fine wine. Even the dictionary definition of rest seems polarized. Descriptions like “Death,” and  “To lie unfarmed,” sit beside “A place to stop and relax” and “Freedom from anxiety.”

How do you view rest? Is it an essential chore, or a delicious and deserved reward? How do you practice rest? Do you crash exhausted or plan the things that uniquely refresh you?

I’ve reframed my point of view on rest. Does yours need a reset too?

Plans as Sand

by Andrea Chilcote

In the summer months, we rise before 5 am to take the dogs on once-daily hikes before the unforgiving sun comes up, leaving them no choice but to retire indoors to our stone floors and air conditioning. It’s a treat for humans and canines alike, and usually it’s an urgent matter.

On some mornings, the weather is better than on others. If there have been no monsoon rains to add humidity, and if there is even a slight breeze, the pre-dawn is almost pleasant. If the air is laden with moisture from an overnight downpour, the heat is already oppressive at 5. On one such morning, Whisper, our ten-year-old Malamute, decided she wasn’t going.

My hiking buddy Beth and I were shocked the first time Whisper stood glued to my husband Arthur’s leg, refusing to go with us and the other dogs. I was concerned that she was ill, but when I got out onto the trail I began to think she had the right idea. She chose to take it easy on a day the environment prescribed ease. The next day, a much more pleasant one, she enthusiastically joined us.

Each day since, Whisper has decided if she wanted a longer, more strenuous walk with us or if she would rather go to the barn for the morning feed, followed by a short and gentle walk with Arthur. She’s very clear, and she decides in the moment after checking the weather from an outdoor deck. One day last week I asked her, “Do you want to go to Spur Cross? (a nearby county park),” and was met with an excited “Woo woo woo.” The very next day her body language told me she was staying close to home, and she did.

Once again, Whisper has sage lessons for us.

I’ve always loved the saying, “Set your goals in stone and your plans in sand.” This summer, Whisper has been a role model for making routine and relatively inconsequential decisions in the moment, based on the circumstances that present themselves. If that sounds like obvious advice, consider this story. The other day, while walking up my driveway with Beth, I was puzzled as to why she had parked her car in a tucked-away space. As it turned out, she planned to do so the day prior, thinking that another friend was joining us. She didn’t want to block her in. While certainly a positive gesture, the problem was that her plan was no longer valid. The other friend’s “plans” had changed. Beth knew this, but still wedged her car in the inconvenient spot. As soon as the words left her mouth, she was reminded of Whisper’s lesson.

Do you ever waste the precious present moment planning things that are best determined in another, future, moment? Do you ever follow through on plans that are no longer justified?

Personally, Whisper’s behavior has reminded me of my goal for self-care. If my plan does not support my goal, perhaps I should change it. A long time ago, Beth offered me this advice: “If you do the right thing for you, it will probably be the right thing for others.” It’s tough for me in practice, but my dog makes it look easy.

Are you doing things out of an unfounded sense of obligation? What if you chose to hang out at the barn instead hiking up a mountain?

The last lesson involves giving another the freedom to change his or her mind. It was tempting to coax and cajole Whisper. After all, what dog would not want to hike? We refrained, honoring her wishes. I’m not sure we could have dragged her out of the house anyway, but we could have gotten ourselves all worked up trying. Isn’t that how it usually goes?

Do you honor the wishes of those you care about, or do you try to persuade them to follow the plan that seems right to you?

This next day, consider your and others’ plans as blowing sand. Where might they take shape?

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This post appeared originally on The Spirited Woman where Andrea is a weekly blogger. Enjoy it!

A Pack of Friends or One at a Time? (2014)

by Andrea Chilcote

There’s a saying I love to share, just to watch the puzzles form on listeners’ faces as they try to decipher the message. It goes like this:

“One dog, you have a dog. Two dogs, you have half a dog. Three dogs, you have no dog at all.”

The point, of course, is that due to pack behavior, the closeness of a human’s relationship with a companion dog depends on how many dogs there are. When there are several, you don’t have one-on-one relationships — you live with a pack. My neighbor observes this behavior in her husband and his two grown sons, with whom he is very close. When they’re away, she has a husband. When one son is present, she says she has roughly half a husband and when all three are together, she laments (but with a smile), that she really has no husband at all.

Even though I work with people day in and day out, am socially adept and enjoy interaction with others, I’m an introvert by nature. That just means I get my energy by being alone or with one very close, significant other. I expend energy in my work and in social interactions, and need time in nature or with one close (and quiet) friend to recharge. Extroverts, on the other hand, gain energy by being with people. I often tease a strongly extroverted colleague about the time she told me, in all seriousness, that she couldn’t wait to relax on a Jimmy Buffet cruise with 200 of her closest friends. “200 close friends?” I exclaimed. I could not imagine (though this was before Facebook) having that many friends, let alone consider being with them all at once “relaxing.”

This introvert/extrovert concept is complex, because we need different things from groups than from our one-on-one relationships. In this world of never-enough-time, I tend to covet and protect time alone with special pals, even to the point of (I confess), sometimes resenting when well-meaning others join us. As an introvert, I tend to let the “pack” do its pack thing, with me on the fringes as a lone wolf. I can easily lose connection and drift away into my own thoughts while they carry on as a unit.

Susan Cain’s new bestseller Quiet: The Power of Introverts In A World That Can’t Stop Talking  does a beautiful job of helping introverts understand themselves a bit better and nudges their extroverted friends, partners and colleagues to consider a different way of interacting with them. Take her quiz to assess your own preferences.

If you need the absence of connection, the solitude of your choosing, to build the energy to connect with important others in your life, consider the choices you are making. Do you go along with crowd, later feeling exhausted or even resentful that your bucket is empty? Or do you make time for quiet, alone or with a quiet confidant? Honoring these core needs contributes to the quality of our lives.

“One of the ways you can tell if you are introverted is that you need time to recharge your batteries and decompress after you spend time with others.”– The Introverted Leader by Jennifer Kahnweiler

A Friend is Always There

by Andrea Chilcote

As we approach the Thanksgiving Holiday and spend treasured time with family and friends, I’m remembering one of my musings about friendship. Enjoy this encore post. 

My husband Arthur and I spent last weekend with visiting friends, one of whom I had not seen for several years. The moment I embraced her at the airport, I knew that the time that had passed was a mere blip on the screen of life. We immediately took up where we had left off.

The morning after she left, I found myself thinking about another friend I had not spoken to in several months. I felt that pang of guilt, and made a mental note to call her.  Minutes later, voilà, — my cell phone rang. You know who it was.

We quickly caught up on the comings and goings of each other’s lives and settled into the familiar. When I hung up the phone, I wondered to myself why I feel such angst when I miss a special person, versus smiling at the memory — then acting.

Have you procrastinated calling or writing a friend because it’s been too long and you’re embarrassed about it? Maybe you missed acknowledging her birthday or a son’s graduation and are feeling just a little guilty.

Here’s one thing I know for sure. If it’s a real friendship, reconnecting can only bring joy. The time that passed is irrelevant. Some friends are with us consistently during periods of our lives. Others appear at just the right time to serve some simple or profound purpose.

True friendship is a free flow of give and take. If you’re called to connect and energized when considering it, act. She will be there. If the thought of doing so drains you, let it go. Either way, allow no guilt, none at all.

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.

“Yes, Piglet?”

“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh