Compassion is not a Chocolate Chip Cookie.

So here's a quick fitness update, because I haven't done one of those for a while. I have been woefully under-training or not training at all for the last... twelve weeks? In this time, I've been trying to fit in what I can, a walk around the circle, hulaing, hopping on the skier's edge machine. When I'm up in Whitefish, I've hiked up Big Mountain a couple of times (wow, that's a grunt), been playing in the skate park, (resulting in some training dampening injuries, but nothing too bad), paddling a canoe, swimming in the river, etc.

I've been eating pretty well, although there was a very stressful period about two weeks ago that lasted for about ten days where my eating disorder reared its horrible head and swallowed me whole. It was intense for about three days, and I did some good work trying to be compassionate to myself through it, rather than being angry at my will power. (Because eating disorders aren't about will power, they are about choice.)

Lets digress here for just a mo and think about this some more. The kind of choice I'm talking about here is not necessarily do I choose to put this piece of food in my mouth or not. Because when you are in the thick of it, you are in survival mode. You are clinging to choice with a very irrational mindset. For me, when I get lost like this, food is like a hug from the inside. And the hug is so fleeting, but it felt so good, that I put in another hug. Rationally, I know that I am ultimately hurting myself by putting so much food in me. And I know that this kind of hug leads to tears, not to satisfaction.

But this is where the choice comes in. Its not about policing the moment, with judgment, ridicule, or even will power. The choice, for me, comes in by seeing how I am caring for myself with my actions. This is back to the lesson that Aubrey taught me about compassion.

We had been discussing the three things that plague me the most that I need to fix. Balancing my checkbook. Maintaining my schedule so I am not late, don't overbook, and don't double book or forget appointments. Feeding myself well.

Her thought on these was that I needed more compassion. My response to her was, (a titch aggressively, I'm sure.) "How the f**k is me being nice to myself supposed to help me learn to balance my f*&ing checkbook?" I mean, Its math. Its a math problem. It's, as Ethan's first grade teacher would say, a "must do". There are "want to dos" and "must dos" and balancing your checkbook is a must do.

Aubrey asked me how much compassion I was having for myself in that moment right then, and I told her, NONE. Because I am sick of it. I'm tired of not managing my money well. And its not true that you don't have to manage it well when you have none. The fact that I have $12 to my name and about $6000 worth of bills makes me feel powerless, so I don't manage my money.

But in this instance, lets be real, this is the TIME to manage your money. Manage the small amount you have so it can grow. SO out of this very frustrated place, with Aubrey poking at me, I suddenly realized that the answer to all three problems is the same.

Having compassion for myself means making a choice in the moment that is a caring choice. What is the most compassionate thing I can do in this moment? Is it put my wallet in the bottom of my purse, or is it take a moment to write down what I just spent, not because its a must do and I'm a f*&kup, but because I want to be kind to myself, and take care of myself, and the beating I give myself when I don't do this is NOT a compassionate place.

Having compassion for myself means looking at the bagel I'm about to eat (hopefully the first one and not the fourth one) and realizing that the compassionate thing to do, the most caring gesture I can make to myself in this moment of crisis, is to put it down and walk away. That's the hug. Because the way my body feels after I torture it like that is not compassionate.

And so on. I love looking at choice in this way. Its not saying, "Well, feel different! Are you depressed? You should stop feeling that way! Choose to not be depressed." That's not what I'm saying. What I'm working towards here in my practice would be something like, "I'm depressed. How can I care for myself right now. Is it more compassionate for me to go to bed, or for me to go sit in the sun in the yard?" One of those choices, while hard to do, leads down the path to freedom.

You have two hours. What are you going to do with them?

Yesterday, I had about two hours to play with. It was a beautiful, sunny, blue bird day, and there was a canoe sitting in the grass. Mike and I both had a bunch of stuff that needed to get done, but there, again, was this canoe in the grass.

So we threw it on the car. And we made some phone calls, and we dropped off a car at the mechanic, and did a bunch of that grown up stuff that needs to get done. And then we pulled the canoe off the car (okay, I didn't do the pulling, a nice man in a big boat hauler did my end for me due to still broken ribs), and we pushed it out into Whitefish lake and went for a paddle.

The water was like glass, we paddled along the south part of the lake and watched the frieght trains come winding along behind the houses. People were out on their docks, sitting in lawn chairs, playing in the water.

We headed out to the headwater and went down the creek quite a ways, it was silent back there, rotted old pilings under the railway bridge, a river otter or a badger swimming in front of the canoe for a while. Apple trees along the bank heavy with red fruit, yellow willows reflected in the blue green water. Sun on my skin, quiet dip of paddle.

We pulled the boat out and went to get a cold drink, hit the grocery store, and Mike headed off to work.

While we were putting the boat back on the car, the nice guy that helped us looked at his daughter. "We should be doing this right now! Lets go get our boat, its a beautiful night." Her face lit up in a smile, and they went to go get their canoe and head out on the lake together.

I thought about this while I was making some dinner, happy in my warm bare feet, from two hours in the sun.

We tend to say in our lives, well, now its too late, it will take too long, that's a lot of effort to get the boat up there and all, lets do it next weekend when we can get an earlier start.

But what I realized is, there is time. There is more time than you think. An hour today makes it more likely that you will get an earlier start next weekend. Inertia is an amazing thing, the extra effort it takes to get your shoes on and get out the door, get the boat on the car... well, once its up there, things are moving, and they'll tend to keep moving.

Mike and I were talking about this, about how if you make the choice to look at how things can keep moving, you don't live in fear of them stalling, of the failure, of the trap of your house, your couch, your life, your adult responsibilities. Yes, they are important. Yes, you have to function in society.

But what's happened to me lately, which I like, is to say yes to my life. "Yes, we can go to the skatepark." Even if we only have 45 minutes to do it. Lets go. Heck, ya. Lets make it happen. Yes.

Yes, we can leave the house and go for a canoe trip on the lake even though we only have 2 hours. Because the joy that refills you when you do that, when you walk to the park and sit on the swings, when you take a few moments to plug into the people you love and see them, really SEE them in front of you, and spend those few moments really LIVING with them, well those moments seem to infect the rest of your life.

I have more energy to follow through with the rest of my life when I'm living the moments that belong to me to the fullest.

So the challenge now is, I have two hours... what can I do with them? What new adventure can I pack into two hours? A walk around the circle with the dog will do, its true. What if, instead, I went and skipped rocks in the river? That's not something I do every day. Is two hours enough time to take a sketchbook out into the sun? To pick a bag of apples? Which means climbing a tree...

Late Bloomers

My mom was up visiting for my graduation, and I had the good fortune to go hiking with her for a few days. If you've never been on a hiking trip with Safta, its a real treat. Now, a caveat here is that if you really want to go anywhere, you can't let her take either her birding book or her wildflower book, or her binoculars.

BUT, if you want to have one of the best, most memorable days of your life, and if you'd like to discover the beauty of the world as it is all around you, I'd suggest a walk with Safta.

Late August, most of the flowers are done, even in Bozeman, up at altitude, in one of the wettest summers we've had, things have gone to seed. I tend to see the big picture as I hike along, taking in the scenery as I walk, heading toward peak or ridge, and falling into my own world.

Walking with my mom, I realized, as we left the car, went ten feet, found mountain astor, columbine, bluebells, and countless other flowers hiding in the brush. After this incredible session, we walked literally across the path, where we found a whole cache of lupine.

As I stood in the sun and watched my mom blissing out on the beauty that were these rare late bloomers, I realized that while I had hoped she would come out to visit earlier in the year, when the carpets of wild flowers are like country quilts over the meadows, this moment in time, when the few late bloomers are hiding their color carefully, is a moment of absolute rare opportunity.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering up the trail in pursuit of the hidden late bloomer, I realized the cornball analagy that everyone uses is absolutely true. I don't think any of us would choose to bloom late, I think we'd all like to be born with a huge amount of easily accessible talent, a true and easy to see path, and the will and desire to head down it right out of the starting gate.

So pardon the fairly obvious allegory, but somehow the full impact of what it means to be a late bloomer hit me.

Sometimes that innate talent shows itself in whispers and desires of childhood, in the games we choose to play, in the sport we do, but we never realize that perhaps, these games, this unfocused play is actually our light, our mini bloom.

Maybe that's why I love teaching adults to ski, or re teaching them. Because its something lots of them did as a kid, or wanted to do, but never thought they could be good at, or better than they were when they were young.

These thoughts connected like plugs in a powerstrip, Mike skating in the skate park and doing things today he coudln't even think about doing when he was younger, my mom finding beauty where everyone was running past, assuming the season for beauty was over, and my own journey to this seemingly ridiculous goal of being a professional skier at 37.

I think that there is some idea that we reach a point at which we have to say, well, I tried, now its time to get with the programme and be real, give up on the whispers of my dreams, the talents people may have told me I had, and sit down and fill out paperwork.

What if it didn't work that way? What if you could learn to ski at 35 and be a pro before you were 40? What if you always wanted to be a painter, and you started your professional career at 70? What if? What if being a late bloomer allowed you to bring all of the wisdom of your life and past experiences to the table, in the same way that you really appreciate your graduate degree after you party your way through you BA and feel, a bit sheepsihly, like you may have missed part of your college experience?

I think in this age, when suddenly things seem uncertain, and people are casting about for meaning, maybe realizing that a chicken in every pot, a car in every garage, consuming, hoarding, collecting stuff is not the point, but living your life, really living it, remembering what you wanted to be, and allowing yourself to become that person again, maybe that's the point. To breathe in, and feel alive. Even if you breathe in and it hurts a little, because you broke a rib skateboarding.

PS, I have great pics of my mom for this post, but i'm having trouble uploading them... stay tuned!

I like skateboarding, even though I broke my ribs...

Yes, its true. So the month of August has been an incredible month with my kids. I have been camping out under the stars almost every weekend for the last six or seven weeks with my boyfriend Mike, and his kids; Cyrus, Ethan and Marley.

This family of Stiefs is full of life and love, we've been swimming in big water, fishing, catching frogs and snakes, eating ice cream and playing in the skateboarding park.

I skated a little when I was in Jr High, but never really took the time to learn to ride all those ramps that my guy friends were just shredding in their back yards.

Ethan Wight learns to ollie.

We went out to the skate park this weekend, and it was a lesson in bliss and living your life, Mike, at 34, is still racing a bunch of 10-18 year olds up to the top of this ramp so they can all try to olli over a stack of four or five skateboards. And he's kicking their buts at it.

His kids, Cyrus and Ethan, are dropping into the big bowl and skating the sides, and my kids, Ethan and Bodhi are watching them with their jaws on the floor.

Its been amazing for all of us, Bodhi is learning to just play in the bowls, running up and down the walls, and Ethan is learning to skate, and more importantly, he's learning to get up when he falls and keep going.

Marley, Mike's 9 year old daughter, this lithe, beautiful gymnastic outdoors girl, decided to skate, and hopped right on, and learned to roll up the banked walls of the bowl. It was awesome to see, the only girl in the park aside from me, and she was just getting after it, testing it out, and realizing she could do it!

Ethan Stief goes big off a jump he built himself!

With Cyrus and Mike's gentle guidance, I started skating some of the small ramps, and learning to get forward, and learning to turn up on the wall, and it was SO awesome! What GREAT training for skiing, you have to be in tune with your center of mass, the board is short, so getting it out of position has immediate consequences.

My goal is to be able to drop into the big bowl and skate the walls.

After skating the mini ramps a bit, Cyrus asked me if I wanted to learn to drop in. YOU BET! This kid has got his act together, I'd follow him anywhere. We picked a spot and got to work, and on the first try, I had a "soft" fall onto the super hard concrete, but I felt like I understood what I'd done wrong. The second time, I slapped the wheels onto the wall and rode down, but when I got to the transition, I leaned back, worried I was gonna go endo, rather than just softening my front leg and letting the board level under me.

The board shot out from under me, and I went horizontal into the air, landed with a sickening crunch flat on the pavement, felt my rib cage flatten, and laid there a bit shocked.

I sat out for a while, wondering if I should try again, because I was pretty sure I could get it the third time, I was awful close, but kind of scared that I'd broken a rib or three, and that falling again might poke it into my lung or something.

So I opted out, and just skated the little ramps, and watched the boys play. Mike was working on dropping in to something super steep and riding across the bowl at a ridiculous speed, and then ollieing up on top of a concrete box (which he did successfully on the second day), and big Ethan was working on dropping in on the other side in a place he'd never gone before. Cyrus was working on the big bowl, and the other three were keeping at it on the low angle stuff.

All in all, I have to say, five kids, no, lets make that seven, if you include Mike and me, in the skate park all day for three days in a row makes for some great training for ski season, and some great family time.

Medical update: Ribs 5-8 partially avulsed off cartilage, rib 6 fully avulsed, rib 6 broken in 2 places, front and back. Coulda been worse! Mike accidentally reset the fully avulsed one, so we are good to go. A little pain killers on board, a few days of rest, and Dr. says I can hike even though it will hurt, I won't slow the healing process.

I Finished Something!

Today was the last day of school. I walked out of my business class, glad to be heading home, and realized that suddenly, I won't have homework anymore. I won't be in class three days a week. I can come home and relax, I don't have a million deadlines hanging over my head (from school) which means I can start knocking stuff off my list of other obligations and projects! (After I take a 10 day vacation in which I do nothing but hike and sleep...)

For the last year, my schedule has been insane, up at six, school all day, giving massage until 11 at night, home to study until 2 or so in the morning.

During the ski season, I was on the hill the four days I wasn't in school, and struggling to find balance with my kids while training to pass my level 3 exam.

I knew it would only be for a year, and I suspected that I could do it, if I had help and encouragement and support.

A few other wrenches were thrown in the mix unexpectedly, a bad car accident in October, the repercussions of which I am still dealing with, the fact that going through a divorce with Tom was harder than either of us expected, even though we've been apart for almost two years now.

There were a few broken bones in the mix, a torn meniscus, a broken heart... there were adventures and summits and successes, articles published and mountains climbed and stairs skied and steeps as well.

There was body work and unfolding, there were tattoos and self realization and healing and growth. Friendships were forged and strengthened, and my path, always becoming clearer, seems crystal clear to me now.

To suddenly realize, as I zipped my backpack for the last time today, that I've been trying to graduate from college for nearly twenty years, and today, I did it, was something else.

Yes, its a one year vocational school. Its not a four year program. But its something.

This year, I proved to myself that I can, that I have the capacity, in spite of the odds, to prevail. I am capable of starting and finishing something without shelving it and coming back to it later. I am capable of saying no to things that pull me off my path, I'm okay with honoring my path so that I can accomplish something, without fear of disappointing others.

I finished. This year, I accomplished four big goals without pause. I graduated from school. I was published in a magazine. I passed my level 3. I was hired at Aspen Mountain.

And most importantly, I found a way to grow into the beginnings of who I might become, and that person is capable of loving and giving to my kids without limit, and that feels really good.

Its almost shocking to me to look back at this year and realize that it happened, that it went well, that I didn't drop out or change my goals, but that I made the map for where I needed to go, and with A LOT of help and support from my family and friends, I did it.

Part of me feels a ping of regret that I didn't know this about myself sooner, I wonder what I could have accomplished if I'd known how to be strong enough to stay the course, in skating, in acting, in sculpture, in painting, in climbing, in medicine...

But what I realize now is that all of those experiences in my life were leading me to today. I use things I learned in all of those fields in my massage and coaching practice every day. I wasn't able to finish before because I wasn't able to see myself, to be myself without apology, but with compassion for those around me and for myself.

As I've traveled this journey for the last three years, and the last year, especially, I've learned that there is a way to care for the people in your life, nurture them and love them and give to them, but not to the detriment of your dreams. Finding that balance allows me to give as much as I can, and still have enough to take one more step up the mountain for me.

Thank you everyone for your love and support and belief in me, I can't wait to get my diploma on Saturday and then live the next chapter down in Aspen!!

Madsen Cargo Bikes is giving away a bike a week!

Visit them to enter and commute by bike!

beauty

Amanda says goodbye to Sophie

When Amanda first moved here, I couldn't believe my luck. This woman, she was so much more powerful than she ever knew. She was wild and free inside, she could see fairies, she wondered what the flowers talked about. She could play for hours in the grass with her girls, and she dreamed of having a horse in her field.

We went for hikes together and let our friendship blossom, Amanda tramped her way to the top of Sacajawea Peak and looked at the rapters circling below us and wanted to howl out over the valley. Her heart was so big it almost knocked me down, she pulled in the air from the top of the mountain and stood there like she'd been there forever.

Amanda got her wish, last year, she got a horse. A beautiful, wild young roan, whom she named Sophie.

This horse tossed her head proudly, and Amanda sat in her studio, right next to Sophie's stall, writing music, while her horse looked in on her.

Last week, I came home from a walk at sunset. Amanda was on Sophie, riding in the dusk, and David, her husband, was watching quietly, perched on the fence. David and I watched this amazing woman and her horse, and what I saw when I looked at Amanda was freedom.

The spirit of that horse, and the spirit of this woman are the same. Open, loving, playful, free and wild, Sophie lit something on fire in Amanda that was bigger than anyone could ever hold back.

And Amanda didn't guard this jealously. She gave her horse's love to anyone who wanted it. She shared her horse with her daughters, (whom my sons call their sisters), Sophie would stand next to the trampoline in the pasture while the kids bounced together on it. Amanda had begun bringing Sophie across the street to our pasture for the last few weeks, and it was so wonderful to come home and find this incredible strong wild red horse standing and eating.

I'd go outside in the evening with the hula hoop and Sophie would walk up to the fence and nicker at me. She was insatiably curious, just like Amanda.

Our good friend Cassy is coming to live with the boys while I go down to Colorado for the ski season, and she recently adopted a mare with a lame forefoot, whom she calls Nadia. Nadia is very very shy, and has been lonely.

Sophie, with her huge wild heart, had befriended Nadia, and while Amanda was concerned that Sophie might chase Nadia and Nadia might get hurt, eventually, we let them into the same pasture because they were rubbing each other through the fence trying to get close.

These two horses have spent the last two weeks walking together and eating together and loving each other, and Nadia watched Sophie run and buck and be wild, and she'd trot, too. It was like she was living through Sophie's insane athleticism.

When Sophie came home, they'd stand across the street from each other, each stretching their necks across the fence and whinny and nicker. I had to go out a few nights ago and tell them, like girls at a sleep over, to settle down and go to bed.

Today, Sophie was running in the pasture and slipped. She broke her leg, and the vet came and put her down.

I came outside to find my friend, my beautiful, wild, adventurous, growing, healing friend, nestled in the crook of her horse's neck, leaning against her chest, looking sad and shocked. Her daughers were laying on Sophie and crying, and Sophie was already dead. I went out with my boys, and we gathered around Amanda, and we all said goodbye to this magical, fierce spirit. And as we said goodbye, I felt Amanda's wildness growing, and she cared for these children, and helped them heal in spite of her own tremendous grief and pain.

The kids gathered flowers and made hearts and lit incense and covered Sophie with a blanket, and loved her, and groomed her, and cleaned her feet to say goodbye. And Amanda drew strength from her horse, who loved her so deeply, and gave that strength to the kids, keeping none for herself, even though her loss was like a chasm. We stayed with Sophie till the truck came to take her away, hours later.

Nadia was pacing in the pasture, concerned and scared, and when the truck came, I took the kids inside and made them tea, and we talked about wishing things were different, and we talked about feeling Sophie's spirit, and we talked about death and what it means. And Nadia was running in the field. And when the truck left, she chased it along the fence, crying and whinnying. And then, this shy horse, who wont come near anyone, came up to David and Amanda, who were standing in the pasture, just still, missing their beautiful horse. Nadia came up and put her head in Davids hand and just stood there, like she didn't know what else to do.

After a while, she walked over to where Sophie had died, and put her face in the dirt and just smelled it, like if she could only breathe in the air, the horse she loved might come back. I know we were all feeling the same way, like this couldn't have just happened, like this life, this life that gave us all so much life, could not be gone.

I had sat there, holding my friend's hand, feeling the heat slowly leave Sophie, and knowing I could do nothing to ease Amanda's pain, and being so grateful and so proud for her taking such amazing care of the children, helping them to see this loss as painful but okay. I wish that I could pour my heart into her like a bowl, but I know that living through this is what she's meant to do, and I know I can't take her pain for her.

But I would if I could.

I love you, Amanda. Thank you for bringing Sophie into all of our lives, for sharing her strength and power and beauty with all of us, for being so gracious as to help the kids to say goodbye.

The Power of a Talisman

I have this necklace, and I'd like to tell you a story about it.

In 1999, Tom and I went to Thailand after a trek in Nepal to Everest Base Camp. While we were recovering from that most excellent adventure, we went out to the TomSit Monastary in the jungle outside Krabi in the south of Thailand.

The monastery was very remote, I wasn't sure that we were allowed to be there, or what we were going to find. The tuk tuk dropped us off, and we wandered around this huge crumbling structure. There was a huge temple area, open on three sides to the jungle, with cats wandering around in it, and ancient, ornate carvings and mosaics along the columns.

In the back of the temple was another three sided room, this was set up for a monk who was laying on a modern adjustable hospital bed. He wore a nasal canula, and had a smile on his face. Laid out on the bed before him was a cloth covered in glass beads, chipped and beautiful.

He wore a maroon smock, specially sewn with pockets for all his beading materials. It also contained the universal remote for the satellite tv he was watching while he was working.

We walked up to say hi, and he smiled. My Thai is very poor, and his English is worse than my Thai, so we spent a couple of hours laughing and attempting, and failing horribly, to communicate. It was a lovely afternoon, beautiful in the humid thick jungle, out of time, with only the anomaly of the oxygen, hospital bed, and hospital wall mounted tv to mark this as a modern moment.

The monk offered for me to choose from the necklaces he'd made, and I picked one I'd never have to take off. These beads are circa 350 BC, and they used to be used for currency in Thailand. The TomSit Monastary is the one place in Thailand that serves as a museum for these national treasures. They are not supposed to sell them, but that's just what they do, because the monastery is poor, so while they keep and catalogue most of them, this monk does what he needs to to put food on the table and keep the museum running.

He placed this one around my neck, and I felt my life change forever. Perhaps it was just this gesture on top of all the learning and growing I'd done while wandering around the foothills of the Himalaya, but there was a moment when I suddenly realized that my life was beginning.

When I got home (I had to put the necklace in my panties to get it out of the country), I wore that necklace for six years, until, one day, it broke. In those six years, I started five businesses, went back to school and gave birth to two children, found myself feeling fierce, and played a lot of tennis, tan and strong. I protected my children, getting abusive people out of my life, standing up for me, with a voice.

And then one day, it broke.

And I gathered up the beads, I was worried that it had lost its power, I know it sounds silly, but I'd drawn so much courage from this piece, that to have it in pieces, I was terrified that if, when I restrung it, I couldn't put it in the right order, it wouldn't "work" anymore. I'd broken the spell.

For the next six years, I carried the unstrung beads in my pocket, hoping to find someone who would fix it for me, but afraid to let the beads out of my sight. I went to a jeweler who didn't understand, or care, that they were ancient and sacred, I wanted a knot between each bead, like a pearl necklace, and he wouldn't do it.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave it with him.

In those next six years, I lost my business, my studio and art, my wedding dress and my fathers antiques burned to the ground, as did my marriage. I left school, I gained seventy pounds, I lost myself in saving others and couldn't find myself again.

I always promised myself that one day, I'd get this necklace strung again, and on that day, I'd begin to get in shape again. I'd be committing to myself that this was it, this was real, here we go. I'd be getting back on track.

And I couldn't do it. It seemed like too big of a commitment, I knew that if i did restring it, I'd have to stay with something or risk breaking the monk's spell forever.

One day, a few weeks ago, I had the beads in my backpack, and my friend Angie from massage school, who is incredibly talented at making beautiful jewelry out of the most unusual stones, was talking about fixing her friend's necklace. I asked her if she'd mind restringing this for me, and she, with understanding in her eyes and heart of how sacred these beads were to me, took them tenderly and restrung them

When she brought it back, it felt so good to have on my neck again, but it was too tight. I was so very cogniscent of the commitment I'd made about this necklace, that it meant I'd get back in shape, and i had a wry smile to myself, realizing that I'd done that on my own in the last three years, i didn't need a talisman to remind me to take care of myself. but the necklace didn't fit.

I gave the necklace back to Angie with apologies, and asked her if she could make it longer, using the seven more beads I'd found from it in my jewelry box. The missing beads would make it fit.

Over the weekend, I went to meet a new friend for the first time, I went camping with Mike and his kids, and over this weekend, watching our children play together, I thought about a lot of the work I'd been doing on learning to care for myself.

I thought about what that means, to finally take care of yourself. For me, it did indeed mean learning to move my body again and be outside, but the impetus for that change wasn't so I'd fit into cute jeans, but to care for my soul. This time was different than when I'd worn the necklace in the past.

I got back to school the next week, ready to put the necklace on with a new understanding of the next chapter, but it wasn't ready, and neither was I.

I had two weeks of work to do on opening my heart, learning to trust, trusting that its okay to recieve. Coaxing and coaxing, I took Aubrey's lesson on being compassionate to myself, which this time meant some surrender, when I've spent the last twelve years building boundaries to keep me safe. Not walls, but healthy boundaries.

And between all of these lessons, swirling and coalescing, there was this necklace. And Angie gave it back to me at the end of these two weeks, she put it on my neck, and it fit, the big bead hanging gentle in the hollow of my throat, and this time, I knew that it was my journey.

This necklace, to me, signifies my found ability to care for myself. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. And for me to care for myself by allowing others to care for me.

I touch it often, it stays on my throat all the time, but I know now that the Monk's spell can't be broken, because its in my heart, not in the beads. They are magic because I made them so.

That Which it is Used For, it Becomes

Oh, man, I'm on a roll. I added some ink to my body today, again. I've been thinking about this statement for almost a year, since I first heard it in Aubrey's Anatomy Class at Health Works Institute, where I'm a massage student here in Bozeman.

It's Wolf's Law: That which it is used for, it becomes.

This means, anatomically, that on your bones, there are little protuberances and tubercles where muscles attach. What it also means is that those protuberances and tubercles exist because the muscle that attaches there pulls on the bone, forming a bump.

So the muscles attach to the bumps, but the bumps exist because the muscles attach to them.

I thought a lot about this, and where I keep landing is that this law applies to everything. If I use my feet to climb mountains, they become mountain climbing feet. If I use my ass to sit on the couch, it becomes a couch sitting ass. If I use my heart compassionately, I become a more compassionate person. If I hold anger and jealousy, I become an angry, jealous person.

Recently, I've been challenged to accept happiness. I had a good friend say this to me about two weeks ago: "You are struggling accepting this, aren't you? Can you look at me and tell me, "I deserve to be happy."? Can you do that?"

It was hard.

I was surprised. I want to be happy, I want to recieve all that's good that comes my way. But for some reasons, including old coping from my upbringing, and repeating patterns over a lifetime, I'd used my heart to be wary. And I had become a wary person, afraid the rug was going to be yanked out from under me.

For the last two weeks, I've been working hard with Amy, Tamara, and my friends to change that. To open to trust, to ground myself and stand on my feet and open my arms and trust.

Something shifted in the last few days, and I'm now trusting. Not just working on trust, but trusting. I am practicing being a person who trusts that I deserve what's good in my life, and because of that, I'm becoming less fearful, more open, more even, more able to trust.

I think part of me was afraid I'd loose myself if this happened, that I wouldn't be me anymore. But what I've found is that because I've been willing to take this journey, I'm more me now than I was a week ago. I feel more solitary, yet more connected. I feel that I'm able to be me, regardless of perception and judgement, in spite of those things that might happen. I'm able to be me, and have it be okay. So I'm more me than I ever was.

This feels so good.

So I marked the moment with thanks to those who have helped me come here. Mike, Tamara, Amy and Brendan. My sisters and my mom. Thank you.

PS, I have to wait to put the rest on for a while, I think till I graduate, because of the healing process and my job... I can't use my forearm for 2 weeks! Ahhh!

Skiing on the Stairs

So today, I was supposed to go ski the Great One with my friends Aaron, Thaddeus, and Ben. Our friend Curtiss had told us that it was rocky at the top, great in the middle and completely melted out in the bottom, so stopping was important. (Otherwise, you end up like the kid they air lifted off of it last week because he double e'd and ended up bouncing down the talus field...)

I love this ski, I was psyched. We all packed up last night, everything, batteries in transceivers, I even went to Sola and got everyone a peanut butter sandwich cookie for the summit. At 3:30 this morning, it was pouring. At Five this morning, the thunder was so loud it was shaking the house.

I was game for going up there in the rain and waiting for a weather window to do the ski in, but sliding over the slippery rocks and bushwhacking through the forrest in a huge thunderstorm... not so much.

So we canceled the trip. I was so bummed. But Aaron, who is an amazing professional photographer based here in Bozeman (and coming soon to Seattle!), had the idea for us to just go around town and play on the skis. Which would mean sacrificing a pair of skis for the photoshoot.

But this shoot is for VIO POV cameras, one of my sponsors, and they've been so very cool to me, I wanted to get them the best picture I could.

Aaron knew about this old parking garage that was just full of graphiti and old couches, so we took a bunch of pillows off the couches and stacked them at the bottom of the stairs, and I straightlined the stairs!

I kid you not. Today, I skied down a set of concrete stairs on to the cement floor of the parking garage, which was full of all manner of broken glass and trash and water. It was AWESOME FUN! And the pictures came out SO well, Aaron has an AMAZING eye for composition.

We sent them off to VIO, and the guys are happy with them, YAY! I think they probably came out better than shots on the Great One would have!

I was grateful to Alison Gannett's Rippin Chix camp for teaching me how to go straight, and John Faunce for teaching me how to slide a rail this year, between the two of them, I managed to stay on my feet the half dozen times I skied it! I was going so fast when I got to the floor of the garage, I skied about 1/2 way across the floor through the puddles on my bases.

So, yeah. I'm gonna need a base grind, by the way. :-) too much fun. Look for the full page ad in the November issue of 32 Degrees!

Time for new ink! Greg draws it out.

1000 Days Challenge

A good friend of mine has started something wonderful. She's decided to join me in my 1000 day quest. Her goal is not the same as my goal, she has her own path to follow. But she's chosen something to head toward, and for the next 1000 days, she's going to walk toward that goal. That's a little over 3 years.

What do you want to do with your life? Graduate from college? Write your novel? Learn to dance? Change from someone who feels trapped by their life to someone who feels like they have a paddle in the water?

Come join the evolution! Here are some guidelines:

Choose something thats a dream.
Be kind to yourself. Small changes that stick over time, instead of large changes all at once that aren't sustainable.
If you fall off your path, bring yourself back gently and begin again.
The more times you do this, the less often you will fall off, and the less it will hurt when you do.
Live without judgment and criticism of yourself, be kind to you while you walk toward this goal.

Thanks for keeping me company on my journey!

1000 Days to Demo Team Tryouts!

WOW, the first 400 and something days went REALLY fast! Today marks 1000 days until my tryout. I feel like I've had a strong and productive first quarter of my training, I'm looking forward to the next one.

The next 300 or so days will be, I hope, just as interesting, revelatory, and challenging!

Thursday, with 999 days to go, I'm gonna ski the Great One. Time to get to work!

Welcome to Ski Season!

Okay, all yall, the lazy season is OFFICIALLY over. Sorry to burst your bubble. But its time to get fit. We have four months to get ripped, lean, strong and hydrated.

My plan, right now, is this: because I am short on time and I need to build muscle and long burning lactate threshold endurance, I'm designing a new program.

Hula Hooping! Thats right. I have my friend Leah's Gaiam Hula Hoop, and its awesome, fun, easy, and a great core and balance work out! (about 3x a day for about 15 min)

360 Balance Board, the most awesome balance and core workout, about 4x a day for about 10 min.

Skier's Edge: a total of about 20 min a day in 3-5 min incraments, working on power right now.

Low burn cardio every day, so a walk around the circle (about 3 miles), at a minimum, I do this while the kids are in the bath and Tom is watching them.

If I can get a good steep hike in, I'll take the walk around the circle and something else out.

I do sit ups, push ups, dips, and pull ups on the hang board every night, and I do dishes and laundry and anything else, including standing in the line at the grocery store, standing on one foot.

While its not ideal, its all stuff I can do at home and in spurts during the day, and its a good way to get started!

What's the time? Its time to get STRONG!!!

PS, I'm skiing the Great One off Sac on Thursday for the VIO POV ad, I'm their ski model! Yipes! Hope there's snow!

Bodhi loves Sushi! Eat that eel!

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perfect

Put him self to sleep after half a bag of mash Mallows. Love him!

my hero. But He's towing me home.

Summer breakfast