In a conversation the other night, my man said, there are those times when you have no choice but to get out and push the canoe.
He reminded me of sections of a river we used to love to occasionally canoe many years ago. How many times we had to get out and push our canoe was dependent on the season or route we took or both. We decided that was life.
I recalled the different friends we took down that same river in inner tubes. Our backsides sometimes bouncing ouchy hard on the rocks. Sometimes we’d feel that bruising for a while, but we sure had a lot of fun. I think that’s life too.
There’s no doubt…
Life can kick your ass. And before you know it, your ass is dragging. Without thought, though, you keep slugging along until you find a way to pick it back up again and see what you can see out on the horizon.
In order for love to radiate from you, from the inside out, the wall must come down from your heart.
In order for grace to seep in, to your core, so you can feel it in your bones, the wall must come down from your heart.
In order for Fear to loosen its grip, even marginally and surrender back into the past where it came from, the wall must come down from your heart.
We know this is a process. It can mean closing a chapter and discovering a new one.
The air is different
I miss when we had horses in numbers. There’s a different energy when you come on to a place with a herd. Even though technically a herd is more than one, the buzz in the air is different and palpable when there’s seven, eight, more. I love the way it feels. There’s a hum of movement and beating pulse.
When we’ve had horses in numbers, it’s noticeable how they busy themselves with their own world, their own activities and they hardly notice my comings and goings. And, if there are youngsters in the mix, the place is ever vibrating. I like that they have their own conversations and that our rhythm is similar but different.
The different why’s
They all came for a variety of reasons. Some came to complete the last chapter in their book, an imminent death waiting. Some came to discover new landscapes, new terrain with tender hands and nourishment. The ones that completed their last chapter on earth made their transition in a merciful way with gentleness and clean air to take a last breath. They’d been pushing their canoe long enough.
Mmm, a flood is threatening
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I’m gonna fade away ~ Mick Jagger
They were given names
They didn’t always have names. And when they did come with them, they didn’t always remember them. So, we decided to give them new ones. A fresh start is a fresh start. They might get a name that sounded like their old one but different enough to reflect their recovery and transformation.
And those that needed a swift, merciful death and had no name were given one. Because everything and everyone needs a way to say they were here. They left a mark. A name to be remembered.
With bold intention
Like music, a name evokes a certain feeling somewhere inside you, with meaning and a tonality of truth. We choose a name for how it rolls off the tongue, for what it stirs up in your heart or sometimes a memory. It’s personal and sometimes digs in deep.
A young woman with independence
My mother gave great contemplation to my name while lying in a hospital bed for a few days. It was with intent (and defiance!) that she spelled my first name to go with my middle name. (Did you sing it in your sleep Mom?) Never mind she spelled it just slightly unconventional. Never mind she got offended and went to battle with the typing teacher that marked me down for spelling my name “wrong”. (Well, I’m going to have a talk with him!)
My mother, a very young woman, with her very first child, wanting to be very different and unique. She discovered she loved reciting poetry and in particular, Spanish poetry that curled off her tongue. My mother loved the name she chose for me, and, in utero she made me just as crazy about the spelling of my name as she was! Thankfully, this along with many other things, has softened with years.