A Funny Touch of Perspective

I had way too much fun last night with a good friend. Good dinner, good movie, good conversation, lots of laughs, a nice blow out. But you know what they say - life is a series of crests and troughs. I rode the crest last night and woke up in a trough.....a touch bleary eyed this morning but knuckled down and rolled out of bed to do my usual morning trawl on the internet, looking up conservation news and seeing what's going on out there in the great wilderness that we collectively call Planet Earth.

 

It's a tough morning for conservation buffs. The news is nearly all bad. Rhinos officially wiped out in one park, elephants slaughtered en masse in Central African Republic after a government overthrow, Thai baby elephants broken and tortured into compliance, lions hunted in deplorable, canned hunts for trophies, giraffes hung in poachers snares......I mean - it's just flat out depressing.

 

I saw a wise saying that one should focus on the positive to get more of that. I admit, I had a hard time doing that this morning. Outside, the skies are grey and gloomy and not helping either. Inside, I am about to ready to throw in the towel for the day, just go ride and forget about the rest.

 

Then I happened upon this video. The intro on Facebook promised it would make my day. I wondered, but I gave it a go.

 

I don't know what it will do for you, but it picked me up off the floor and threw me into a higher gear. This is one inspiring - and funny - young man. One of my favorite lines is near the end at 6:29......what's yours?

 

Hey Jack - you brought me comfort, inspiration and joy, not to mention, perspective.

Thanks, mate!

 

 

 

 

Gratitude

Gratitude. It's the stuff of life. The feel good stuff. It's the conduit between praying and receiving, it's the warm glow and the bubbling joy. It's good to remember - and a little bit will go a long, long way.

My mother - who would have been 73 today, Happy Birthday, Mom! - used to tell me to Count My Blessings. As a child I didn't quite understand - with a child's Faith that all will always be well, I took it all for granted. As a teenager, I resented it. I felt like she was telling me I didn't really deserve my good fortune. As a young adult, I didn't know how I could possibly feel gratitude when life was so very, very hard.

But little by little, it began to dawn on me. Little by little, I learned to become grateful for even the littlest things. I began, after all, to Count My Blessings. And when I did, I discovered a very odd thing about myself.

Somewhere along the way, I had come to fear feeling gratitude. Somehow, feeling gratitude had become linked to a sense of unworthiness, that if I felt grateful for something it must be because I had received something I did not deserve. If I acknowledged my good fortune, perhaps it would be ripped from me. Yes, God's ways may be mysterious but the Mind comes a close second....

So practicing gratitude became an exercise in self worth. Funny how things turn out. The more gratitude I felt, the more I got to acknowledge my own self worth. Hunh. All of a sudden, when I felt gratitude I also had an opportunity to feel it as an acknowledgement of my own worthiness in receiving. It's a win-win! It's also a little bit of work, still. I have to remind myself I am not just blessed - I am worthy of my blessings.

Why? Because I am a child of God and worth it, that's why!!! Just ask L'Oreal.

Blessings come in all sizes. Yesterday I received a package I was not expecting. I opened it with a puzzled frown on my face. It was a thoughtful gift from a new friend and my heart opened like a red rose in bloom. I was overwhelmed by her generosity and thoughtfulness. My frown turned upside down and became a deeply touched smile. It fuelled the rest of my day.

Blessings can be selfprescribed. In the morning I am met by a million sights for which to be grateful - 5 waggy dogs, 4 nickering horses, 3 braying donkeys, 2 miaowing cats, one rising sun, acres of serene pastureland, dozens of singing birds, a sleepy husband, a steaming cup of my favorite tea, and a partridge in a pear tree....and the ability and time to enjoy it all.

Blessings can be acts of God. Like my mother, who while being the greatest blessing of all, taught me to Count My Blessings. Nobody loves you like your Mama, nobody forgives like your Mama, nobody knows you like your Mama, and nobody infuriates you like your Mama. It is said you don't know what you've got till it's gone, and that is partly true. It is also true that for every time she drove me mad, there were a hundred for which I simply sat and gave thanks for having a wonderful mother. A fiercely loyal, devoted, supportive, adoring, always forgiving and welcoming me home, mother.

 

So while I now miss coming home to my mother and instead tend a grave, I am just grateful I ever had her at all. And that, my friends, is a blessing to be counted, Always and Forever.

Heartlights

For a writer, there is only one thing better than writing something truly inspired. That is finding out that something you wrote inspired another writer to write something inspired. Such is the case with my guest blogger today, Nadja King.

 

Nadja is the incredible brains and visionary behind a host of extraordinary ventures and efforts. She founded Horses For LIFE Publications, is the owner/editor of the cutting edge online magazine HorsesForLIFE.com for which she also both writes and photographs, and does a whole lot of other stuff, most of which I don't quite understand - it's way above my paygrade. But I know it's all incredible stuff, in the way only stuff can be incredible, you know?

 

Nadja was also the first person to say 'Hey you, Susannah, you're a writer. Write for me.' As she is extremely persistent, she usually gets her way and my Riding By Torchlight column was born. She was also the first to recognize when my articles about a riding safari were really the first chapters of a book. Come to think of it, Nadja represents and has provided me with all kinds of first's in my life. Thank you, Nadja.

 

Here is another first.

 

I am proud to present my first guest blogger, Nadja King, and this beautiful piece she wrote after reading my blog, Boston. Enjoy.

 

Why Boston?
 

Why is it that Boston garnished so much attention? We have Syria. But that is elsewhere.  We had, the very same week, a fertilizer plant that blew up in the same country. More people dead, more devastation. 

 

Yes, there was the drama, the fear, the crazy dramatic police chase. But I truly believe it is more than that. 

 

There are events, times, when enough of our souls, our hearts reach out without thought of protection - searching, open, true, with compassion and love and in that moment of searching, that moment of looking for answers we open our souls, our heartlight up and when we do, it is always a beautiful true moment. When 'many' of us do, when our thoughts, hearts, align in that moment something special happens. We connect. We feed off each other, we enhance each other in that moment. 

 

And we can no more look away but are drawn to live again and again in that moment, looking not for the horror but the possibility of connection, a return to who we really are, not separate beings rushing around like a hive of ants, but life forces that have always been one. We are so powerful, so pure in that moment of connection of common thought. We may curse electronics, game playing, etc as taking us away from a real life. But in reality it is leading us back to who we really are. 

 

Creatures of pure energy, white light, thought, who when enough of us align,  can do anything, as all reality is just energy. Electronics, tv give us an easier opportunity to experience the same thing, thought, emotion at the same moment in time, and with reruns to experience the now over and over again, each rewatch amplifying that moment. 

 

Sad perhaps that it is in a moment of horror that we let our guards down enough to open up our feelings of compassion and love and let them shine out from ourselves so purely. Boston, the unexpected, gave us no time, no moment to protect ourselves, and in that moment our heartlight shone forth, in love and compassion. Together we felt, we experienced and for a brief moment we felt together, as we always have, always, will be. 

 

To letting the light shine forth freely from all of us.

 

Letting Go

Good times......... Some of the best times I have had were all by myself. They did not incorporate some of the other components of good times I would usually include, like friends and family, laughing and dancing and singing, good food and even better wines....

These were a different kind of good times. Solitary times. Times of peace, of understanding without words the great mystery of my life, the profound power of Letting Go and Letting God. Of seeing my whole life handed over to the powers that be, not as a passive non-participant, but as a willing and enthusiastic, responsible, Co-Creator.

A dear and valued friend once told me - as I banged my head against the same wall over and over again and then questioned why I did it as I rubbed my sore head (and heart) - that we do things untill we don't do them anymore. So simple, so true. I blinked twice and thought about that. I wondered when I'd have learned my lesson and have the strength and wisdom to no longer go down the same road, knowing full well the dangers with which it was fraught, each time thinking - this time I won't fall in that hole. I wondered when I would learn to not go down that road at all. So she told me of the concept of Wu Wei - Let Go and Let God.

I recognized in those words a sensory wisdom that I remembered from childhood when I was adept at Wu Wei without knowing what to call it. I felt it rather than thought it. I simply felt that if I could name it and let it go, all would be well. Nothing was so huge I had to hang on to it.  Nothing was so important God couldn't fix it for me. As a child I had no need to feel in control. I trusted the outcome God chose for me. I was little enough to know I wasn't big enough to see the big picture. Only God was big enough. And I knew that.

Only a few years into adulthood I was losing that perspective. Exact manner of outcome began to matter, storyline began to count, control became imperative. Lucky for me, that is when my friend came along.

Still, what came as easily as breathing when I was a child is an ongoing lesson today. There are so many more layers, prickly, reluctant little layers to peel away now before one reaches that inner core of peace and calm and faith. All those 'Yes but's. We are wrapped in layers of experience, layers of pain and joy, fear and hope, love and hate. Hindered by the need to control all these, to mix them just so in our own private recipe to keep us at the greatest level of comfort possible. Comfortably numb.

 In Wu Wei there is room for none of this. There is no desire or need for any of this when you float on an ocean of peace. You feel everything but it passes through, on into an eternity for which you have no concern because all is well. All is Now.

 

 How does one Wu Wei? If you ever figure it out, do let me know. I have fallen into that state on many occasions, but never on purpose. The only thing I can say is I was willing. I was searching. I was naming the pain, the fear and the anger and not letting it fester in the dark recesses of my being. I was in an active state of Letting Go when God came along and said "Let Me."

P.S. This one's for you, Miss Tucker!!

I Heart Piddling

Sunday's are for piddling. That is my firm conviction. And nobody better mess with my piddling when I am a-piddling on a Sunday.

See, I have never held down a 'regular' 9-5, Mon-Fri job. Whatever odd job I may have had, weekends were not sacred. Especially as a horsetrainer and as a writer. Those two pretty much keep you working any time, day and night. Untill a few years ago, I basically worked 6 day weeks most weeks.

When you are a horsetrainer, people want lessons on weekends, or you are off to horseshows or clinics. If a horse is lame or ill, he doesn't care what day of the week it is, he is going to get his caretaking no matter the day or time. When you are a writer, your brain is constantly working and inspiration strikes at the strangest of times and you soon learn the folly of thinking you'll remember later. You better write that ingenious line down, day or night, or it leaves in a huff, never to be written.........

Over time I learned I had to pick a day and call it mine or I'd soon be running on empty. I needed a day all mine to sleep all day, read a book, take a walk or watch TV and do laundry or nothing at all, stare at the ceiling all day with my eyes shut. Not to be confused with napping.

That day is Sunday, the only day I can psychologically turn it all off, more or less. (Only animals need apply for attention.) So now you know why Sunday is for piddling.

So I've been piddling. Oh, I love piddling. Piddling around and doing this and that, such and such. So you're wondering what piddling looks like? Well, let me show you.

Piddling may start something like this - once a person is upright and confirmed conscious:

Cooking a rhubarb-strawberry compote like my grandmother used to make.

(It tastes way better than it looks in this photo. I guess The Food Photo Agency won't be calling me anytime soon. Still, I copyrighted it because then it looks like it's better than it is.)

 

 

Hanging a birdhouse I have been meaning to hang for, ohhhh, 6 months? I can see it from my desk over my left shoulder. Would be neat if a bird moved in.

 



It would have food and water and even it's very own windchimes to lull the chicks to sleep.

 That was also part of my piddling today, you see, cleaning birdbaths and reassigning an old chipped plate to birdfeeder...

Moved a flowerpot I have wanted to move since I planted a hibiscus a week ago....so it would be out of the wind and in front of my window where I may enjoy it daily...

I am forever pestering my dogs, trying to catch that one pic that defines them. However, they are reluctant models. All but Bella, that is. She considers herself the Naomi Campbell of the dogworld and struts her stuff every chance she gets. But today belonged to Dallas (whether she liked it or not)!

 

Then I piddled around and played with my new macrolenses. They are really kicking my photographer bootie trying to get it right, but I won't get all technical on you - suffice to say it's fun getting really close to tiny stuff and sometimes I get it halfways right.

 

  Dead beetles can be kind of fun, and they sit blessedly still, a major plus when you are shooting in macro...

 

 Now, the common dandelion is actually quite extraordinary when you get close to it...

 

 

 

 And the wisteria will be a forever favorite, from any vantage point....

 

 

 

Oh it's just so pretty, let's do one more....

 

 

 

 

Oh, what's one or two.....or three.... between friends? I just couldn't choose...when I'm piddling, choosing is just too much like work.

  

 

 And last but not least - a little old sagebud...

 

 

 

 But now, I have to say, I am feeling rather disturbed. For all my talk of piddling, this blog now makes it look - and me feel - like I have been awfully busy all day. And God Forbid, here I am at my desk, typing away on a Sunday eve.

 

Funny how that piddling around can add up.

 

 

 

Bragging Rights

Nationality is a funny thing. I was born in Denmark and have deep ties to that beautiful, itsy bitsy kingdom of ocean and isles and forests and castles, but in reality, I have only lived there for a total of some 12-13 years in my entire life. By now, I have lived in the US almost twice that long. And as much as I love Denmark and visit every chance I get, I couldn't imagine living there.

Still, I know I am danish, I uphold certain traditions, and I feel a surge of kinship, pride and delight whenever Denmark and Danes are in the news (which is rare), whenever they do well, get a little attention. I know by the simple and irrefutable fact of my genetic genepool, that I have bragging rights to all good deeds danish.

Denmark has long been a country of poetry and prose, and singing is mandatory at all special occasions. So perhaps it is not surprising that over the years, Denmark has produced some incredible singer/song writers. Some of my favorites these days are Tim Christensen and Nikolaj Grandjean (see my blog Carrying Stars). Now I just learned of another one - Mads Langer. He looks about 12 years old and he sings with a sensibility far exceeding his actual age - twentysomething. And his song The River Has Run Wild was featured on a TV show called The Vampire Diaries, so you know - he has made it stateside and now I can really brag on him.

Actually, I learned of two more, for I started looking around and found him in duets with Ida and Maria Mena (OK, Maria is Norwegian, but she still belongs to my Scandinavian genepool), both beautiful girls who more than hold their own in excellent company. And then there's even a duet with my long time favorite (and an idol of Mads Langer), Tim Christensen! I've been in Youtube heaven.

Thought I'd take you with me. By the time you're done listening to this, you just might want bragging rights, too.

Happy Friday!!

 

Mads Langer and Maria Mena

 

 

 

Tim Christensen and Mads Langer

 

Mads Langer on BBC

A Fearful Wonder

Yesterday, while following a lead on an interesting project, I stumbled upon a video that I found to be profoundly moving.

I tried to put myself in their place, an incredible place in time when after a lifetime spent in darkness and pain, a door and windows magically open and I was to see the yellow sun, the green grass and a blue sky for the first time in 30 years. To see an open expanse that was mine to traverse at will after years spent behind bars in the cold steel of cages, entirely at the mercy of another being, a being that did not understand, care or care to know what this life meant to me. They cared only to know what I might contribute to theirs.

To at first stand in fearful wonder, not daring to trust this momentous opportunity. To disbelieve and question the validity of the open door before me, to reach but not quite dare to cross, not yet able to fathom the enormous and joyous change that had just occurred in my life, unbidden, unexpected, unbelievable. Miraculous.

All this plays out in clear and exquisite poetry across their faces. So does the instantaneous onset of joy and the desire to share and celebrate with their fellow retirees. It's all there for anyone with the eyes and heart to see.

When I returned to myself I found my heart opened and an overwhelming sense of hope. It is so easy to become jaded and cynical and to denounce the human race for all our evil doings and sad failings. Then I see something like this, and realize the immense effort and persistence that lay behind this one little moment in time when a return to some measure of freedom was given by the human heart that understood what it meant. No wonder everyone's crying. Including me.

 

Video: HSUS

 

 

 

Watch what happens at about 1:25....