The first rule is to thank the person who gave it to you.

Thank you, Cynthia, for your words of encouragement, your interest in finding a better way, your passion for making a difference, and your willingness to share your insights.

Part Two–Ten Things I Love

1) I love the man with whom I share my four beautiful girls. I’m not even sure where to begin other than to say, I’m glad I listened to my heart instead of my head and my religion 20 years ago.

2) I love these four beautiful girls. They amaze me. Constantly. They challenge me. And I’m grateful. Through challenging me, I know they will grow up to think for themselves and live with a strong sense of self.

3) I love the serenity of nature. It doesn’t really matter if it is flat lands or mountains, deserts or beaches. Nature feeds my soul.

4) I love thunderstorms. Their powerful violence is coupled with nurturing energy. They feed plants, settle the dust, and occasionally wreak life-changing havoc. Sometimes life-changing is ultimately good.

5) I love watching my daughter ride horses. Her grace, power, and beauty is a most amazing form of art.

6) I love simple. Simple soothes my soul. Sparse, minimal, essential working together to provide ONLY that which is necessary and no more removes the clutter from my mind and my life.

7) I love green grass. There is an amazing energy that feeds me when I can walk through green grass barefooted.

8. I love late spring/early summer. The winds have gone. Gardens are kicking in. Fruit trees are beginning to share their bounty. Nature nourishes us.

9) I love cold snowy days when I can be inside by a fire. Snow + Fire + No Work = Heaven.  I love it even more when the snow goes away the next day and a warm sunshine takes over.

10) I love freedom and its necessary partner faith. Freedom of knowing that I can do whatever my heart desires requires a tremendous amount of faith that if I do what my heart desires, I and my family will have all we need. I love watching the evidence of this partnership reveal itself. It’s truly fascinating.

Part 3–Pass It On

I have the privilege now of identifying ten other bloggers to receive an “I Love Your Blog” award from me. In no particular order, they are:

My Little Life–I so enjoy reading the every day antics of others who are making it day by day with a house full of kids. The material generated in these situations is endless, and priceless.

Living the Questions–Elissa Elliott is the author of Eve: A Novel of the First Woman. We are travelers on a similar journey, and I am blessed to have her encouragement and words of wisdom to help me along the way.

Trey Morgan–This is one cool preacher dude. As preachers go, he is one of the few who “get it”, in my opinion. Some days I wonder how he keeps his job as much as he challenges the status quo of religion. Other days I think I need to corrupt him just a wee bit more, but those are few and far between. He’s definitely out to make us all think and rethink.

The Rambling Poet–Renae Cobb found me. She is another sojourner on a similar road facing the realities of her religious and societal history, her desires for her girls, and her love for her man. Traditional but not. Feminist, but faithful. Adventurer with one foot in the safe zone. She is a wonderful encouragement to me.

Farmer’s Daughter–Abbie is a Connecticut farm girl who seems like one part me and one part who I wish I was. This is one very “got-it-together” farm girl with a talent for writing and sharing her ideas about lots of things from farm life to nature conservation to living green to parenting.

Blue Jeans and Cotton Tees–Melinda is another living-the-rural-life mom with tales and adventures of normalcy around every corner. She shares cooking experiences, kid experiences, family get-togethers, and so much more.

Cleavage–Kelly Diels is raw, direct, and real. She’s not out to keep anyone particularly happy. She’s not out to avoid being offensive. She doesn’t worry about the fact that her mom might read her blog. She is real. She talks about real issues that make me think. Issues about sex, relationships, self-doubt, seeing things as they really are. Kelly rocks.

My Modern Country–Darcie is just up the road in the southeastern plains of Colorado. She’s another countrified mom with a great guy and some kids and she’s making things work. Who needs comedians when you’ve got kids, country, and a camera?

Attack of the Redneck  Mommy–I never realized rednecks could live in Canada, but apparently redneck mommies do. Tanis educates me in so many ways. She is a parent who has experienced the greatest of joys and the most tragic sadness. Her writing helps me to become more aware of my own ignorance in the area of disabled and differently abled children. She is not afraid to be different, to take a stand, and to go boldly where no one has gone before. And she’s just hard-core funny, too.

10) My last award goes to a some blogs (which means I actually picked 12–I’m such a rule-breaker) that are “big-time” and don’t really need any love from me, but I just can’t help but love them. Danielle LaPorte’s White Hot Truth, Ronna Detrick’s Renegade Conversations, and Ree Drummond’s The Pioneer Woman are incredible. They make my day in so many ways and in such different ways. Very cool stuff.

None of these bloggers are in any way obligated (guilted) into passing this along. I don’t do guilt. It’s annoying. I just found this was a great way to ease myself back into writing before tackling some of my more intense topics. It also gives me an opportunity to thank some people who bring a smile into my life.

Finally, I will attempt to let each of these beautiful people know that I love their blogs, their words, their wisdom, and I have publicly acknowledged them, no guilt attached.

This is Hunky Farmer Boy on his Tonka Toy. (This is where you hear the Tim the Toolman Taylor grunting sounds.)

My Hunky Farmer Boy with His Big Tonka Toy

For reasons never fully understood by me, HFB likes to use his Tonka Toy to pull things out of the ground. You’d think he’d get enough of that working as an electric lineman, but apparently not. Apparently, they put more poles in the ground than they get to pull out of the ground, leaving him somewhat unbalanced. So he has to spend his leisure time on the farm pulling stuff out of the ground. Big stuff. Or at least sorta big stuff. Most of the time, I’m okay with that, because as his director of operations (aka bossy britches wife), I am usually giving my approval to what he removes and often times I’m assisting in the process. Most of the time.

Sidenote: Men should never be allowed to function without a woman telling them what to do. It just isn’t natural, and truth be known, it’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt. Or worse. Get pee-ode. Like me.

This is the back yard of my wellness center/vacation home. It’s six blocks from the four bedroom mansion where we sleep.

Notice the bright yellow clothes line pole amidst the lake of our recent rains. Sorta hard to miss, isn’t it? I did that on purpose. I like clotheslines. I haven’t used one since I was…oh…say….10 years old, but I like clotheslines. It’s a strange obsession.

Did I mention I like clotheslines?

I’m not sure why I like clotheslines. Since the incident last night, I’ve been trying to analyze why I like clotheslines. I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s representative of a piece of my childhood. Maybe it’s part of my obsession with wanting to be self sufficient. Maybe I get some sort of sick humor out of watching a sexy 6’4″ hunk of man hang himself or bip his noggin’ on it.

Whatever it is, it is serious. I like my clothesline. I’ve begged for one at the mansion for years. Never got one. My wellness center/vacation house came with one pre-installed. Someone loves me.

Back to Tonka Toys.

Did I mention that HFB does not share my obsession with clotheslines?

It’s a detail relevant to our story here.

HFB has mentioned pulling it up a couple of times. The first time, it was because you couldn’t see it. So I painted it John Deere Yellow. As evidence by the photo above, you can see it now.

He’s hinted that the edges of the cross pieces are dangerously sharp and it needed to go. I diverted that conversation with a discussion of options for padding the ends of the poles.

Then I did something really dumb. I left him alone with his Tonka Toy on a beautiful spring afternoon while I went to relax my mind in the peaceful tranquility of yoga class.

Note to self: Bad idea.

We all arrived back at the mansion at about the same time. Conversation initiated. I had purchased some books at Barnes and Noble after my date with strength and peace. He had tilled, and mowed, and hammered, and pulled the clothes line up.

Hunky Farmer Boy with the Big Tonka Toy say what?

“You did WHAT??????????”

Now realize, that I don’t get mad at him. I just don’t. It just doesn’t happen. I pout occasionally when things don’t go my way (okay I pout every time things don’t go my way), but there just isn’t much in this world worth getting truly mad about.

Except extricated clotheslines. Apparently. Yeah.

He might as well have ripped my heart out of my chest, sacrificed my first born, and sold the horses.

“I thought we agreed to pull them up.”

“No. YOU agreed to pull them up.”

“We can set them up farther back out of the way.”

To myself: There’s a guy for ya. Who in their right mind wants the clothes line on the east forty, three hundred miles from the house?

To make matters worse, my girls were witness to this rare, almost unheard of episode of psychosis towards my sweet, hard working man. (I say those things to remind myself that I really do love him, murdered clothes line and all.)

And to make things worse still, #3 daughter, to whom I had preached just hours earlier about getting over her “mad” with her sister, a mad she had nursed for well over 24 hours, began to preach to me about how I needed to get over it like I told her to do.

Child, I birthed you. I can snuff you out. Better choose sides wisely. Besides, this is different. This is my precious CLOTHESLINE!!!!

Don’t you have a horse to ride or something?

And so the evening wore on. I grieved over my poor un-anesthetized clothesline being ripped from its ancient roots. I grieved over being mad at my sweet husband for something so…..<gulp>…trivial. I psycho-analyzed what kind of sick human could overlook a thousand other reasons to be angry in over 20 years, yet let Mr. Helpful rip out her precious clothesline and she blows an aneurysm.

I thought about his offer to “replant” it elsewhere in the yard. That made my chest tighten up with resentment. It doesn’t belong elsewhere in the yard. It belongs where it was. Where it’s been forever. It belongs right smack dab in the middle of the yard where every 6’4″ hunk that walks through can be tatooed with a divot in his forehead.

No. Just forget it. It’s gone. My precious yellow poles are gone. Send flowers. Memorials to the Murdered Clothes Line Association are also appreciated.

And then……

Finally…….

A moment of sanity.

Simple solution.

Mr. Tonka Toy could just put them back exactly like he found them.

EXACTLY.

In concrete.

That’ll teach him to pull up my baby with is big Tonka Toy.

And in a few years when I decide I want that danged clothesline somewhere else because I’m tired of strangling myself on the way to pick tomatoes, I’ll be more than happy to acknowledge that he tried to move the thing years earlier, but had to put it back IN CONCRETE no less because the nutcase he married had some weird survivalist obsession with a stupid clothesline.

Because if Mama ain’t happy, no one gets to be happy!

Oh, and Hunky Farmer Boy is grounded from his big Tonka Toy.

That’s all I have to say ’bout that.

It was preceded by an insanely expensive shopping spree at Cavender’s where every last penny of Daughter #3′s stock show money (plus plenty of mine) was surrendered to their cash register.

And at that moment….the moment when this kid of mine put on the clothes, I was on fire and ready to go. The dread was gone. The proud mama kicked in. This kid totally rocks when it comes to horses. I haven’t quite figured out where she got it, but she definitely got it.

And she rocks the look. Time to clean my shotgun. Boys, back away from the Rodeo Princess.

Ignore the messy room. We have priorities at our place, and keeping bedrooms spic and span doesn’t happen to be one of them. Looking like a million bucks in the show arena is much higher on the list of most important priorities.

And while my cell phone photography skills leave much to be desired, you will most likely get the picture as to her talents. This kid is absolutely fearless…..at least when it comes to horses. That doesn’t mean she isn’t careful. She just isn’t afraid. Of anything. Except failure. She hates failure. More on that in a minute. Oh, and hats. She’s not a fan of the hat requirement.

Dang, she looks good on a horse.

Readers, meet Shorty. Shorty…our readers. Shorty is a roping horse. Fourteen years he spent roping, working cattle, chasing down the little boogers, and taking care of his cowboy. Then he came to our barn. Never saw a show ring before he met Amber, but she needed his speed, and I needed his lack of insane price tag. The combination meant that someone had to teach him a thing or two, and it wasn’t going to be me. That pretty much left one person to take on the challenge–a then ten year old kid who’d only been riding about year. Did I mention, she’s still only eleven? Five feet eight inches of eleven year old determined to teach a horse named Shorty how this gig works.

And have mercy, has this kid taught Shorty a thing or two! She has taught him how to setup and stand for showmanship.

She and Shorty totally rock the grade gelding class. Of course Shorty was once registered. Some poor sap made his ex really mad and she burned the papers. As a result, we have a rockin’ grade gelding. At 15, he’s still impressing judges every time he enters the arena. That gorgeous tail and mane? My beauty shop skills. Conditioner by Aussie. You should be very impressed.

She taught him how to swerve around barrels and poles and stakes. (Those pics are just too blurry to even post.)

And she is desperately working to convince Shorty of the value of giving her the correct lead when loping in Western Pleasure and Horsemanship. He’s beginning to catch on, but it’s been slow and frustrating to get there.

This is the “Mom, why do you make me show him in Western Pleasure when you know we suck at it?” posture. What can I say? The kid HATES failure. Especially when she knows she’s doomed to lose before she ever enters the arena. I told her it isn’t about winning this event. It’s about showing her mama, her uncle, and the other local dads who know of this horse’s (lack of) previous experiences that while those other kids can ride the one with power steering and an automatic transmission and win, she’s capable of driving the standard with no power steering and making it all work in spite of a stiff clutch. Yes, the starts and stops and turns are a bit rough, but they get better everytime she takes him in that ring, because she’s got what it takes. No, she doesn’t get the ribbon, yet who’s the better driver?

“Mom, you’re weird.”

Ideals are nice, but losing still sucks.

Then, the speed events roll around late in the evening. Barrels, poles, and stakes. And now that she’s the oldest in her division instead of one of the “babies”, she’s proving herself to be a force with which to be reckoned. There must be some sort of adrenaline rush when riding a horse that fast. All I can think of is the pain rush. Not this kid. The faster, the better, except when going around something like a barrel, then we prefer to slow things down just a bit. It keeps her inside the arena rather than in the stands with the crowd as almost happened last year when she started sliding off and that “roping” horse just stopped dead in his tracks. That’s what roping horses do, you know…stop when the cowboy starts to jump off????? That was a valuable lesson in centrifugal force. Or centripital….or some kind of Newton thing.

And now she wants a youngster. She thinks she’s got what it takes to takes train a futurity horse. I think she does, too. Please click the Paypal button now to donate to our Feed Amber’s Horses fund.

I complained to her red-headed uncle (who I blame for starting us in this expensive hobby and who says his hair isn’t red) about how slow this kid is when I want her to hurry up and do something. He proceded to inform me that this annoying behavior of not getting wound up or in a hurry about anything is precisely what makes her so amazing with animals. I’m thinking it’s the same behavior that makes her avoid housework in favor of getting grit in her ears mowing six acres on a John Deere LA175 mower. Ride, Forest, Ride!

Plus, she wants to learn to work cattle on a ranch. Enough of this pretend junk at a kid horse show. She wants the real deal. Ridin’ and ropin’ and stuff. And did I mention that she’s brought up the “C” word? Yeah..cutting. Red-headed uncle says I don’t have the denero to fly with that crowd.

Anyone want to adopt her for the summer? You won’t be sorry.

But I didn’t. Something inside of me said to stay home. Rest. Be with my kid. Read. Write. Rest. Cook. Rest. Eat. Rest.

I listened.

Wow! That’s a little A-Typical for me.

Plus, as 4:00 PM on Tuesday afternoon rolled around I typically would have donned yoga garb and headed to Amarillo for class. But I didn’t. I really didn’t want to.

Again, I listened.

And it was a good thing.

At 5:50 PM, a very nice lady called me. She was in significant pain. She was desperate for some relief. Any other day, I would have been in Amarillo, unable to help her.

But I wasn’t. I was here. I was rested. I was nourished. I met her at the wellness center and helped her body find some relief.

Intuition heard. Perfection achieved.

We wrapped things up and I sent her on her way, noticing storm clouds getting quite close. I quickly changed the massage linens, threw some things in the massage washer, tidied up, and headed back to the house as the lightning danced across the sky.

It was absolutely beautiful and majestic and powerful. Sacred energy from above.

Back at home, my preteen weather monitors greeted me with the current radar information. Intense rotation and tornadoes spotted from Happy to Amarillo.

I would have been in the midst of that had I gone to Amarillo. But I didn’t. I wasn’t. I was safe at home.

Again….Intuition heard. Perfection achieved.

Then as I was reflecting back on my days activities, I remembered an exchange on Facebook with a blogger whom I follow. I read her post yesterday, which was an unusually long one for her. I don’t know that I’ve ever commented on her writing. I’m more of a lurker. However, I left my comments for her on FB, and pretty much forgot about it.

Then I got a private message. She responded to me that my comments had been absolutely right. She shared the details. She was excited. I was excited for her. We exchanged some information and more encouragement.

Yet again….Intuition heard. Perfection Achieved.

Note to self: Listen to intuition more often. Especially when it says take the day to just chill out. Cool and amazing things happen when the space is made available for them.

I came to the conclusion that I have many talents and many services to offer. The key will be aligning my talents, passions, and services with the appropriate clientèle.  Lots of people have an interest in what I do, yet not all of them see my services as worthy of plopping down their hard-earned cash in order to experience the benefits.

The way I see it, I have a couple of options: 1) Convince them that what I offer is worth their investment of money, or 2) Attract clients who already know the value of what I do. I’m guessing their will be a little bit of both, but I think my time will be better spent if more energy goes toward the second option.

I currently have a wonderfully supportive massage clientèle, which has grown in large part because of a few amazing people who are telling others about me. Word of mouth and testimony are such sweet and delicious advertising. Thanks to some talented local pioneers in the field of massage, lots of people in this area are already convinced of the value of that service. I owe a lot to the ladies who blazed that trail for me.

Some of my other services, however, are a bit more obscure and unfamiliar. Therefore I will be the one to blaze the trail in those areas.

So, this morning, I am doing a bit of trailblazing.

June 28th-30th, I will be teaching a three-day workshop call BrainGym® 101. It is the introductory class in a series, which lead to licensure as a Brain Gym® instructor/practitioner. It is also the foundation course that provides participants with a solid base of knowledge about this easy program of movements that can do so much to improve learning and physical performance tasks, enhance communication and writing skills, improve mental clarity, reduce test anxiety, increase environmental awareness.

BrainGym® is valuable to a wide range of occupations and life circumstances. Education, is of course a given, and many of my previous clients have been teachers. However, it is also a valuable tool for athletes, peace officers and emergency personnel, hobbiests such as golfers seeking to improve their game, parents, care-givers, and anyone else who deals with challenging situations.

BrainGym® works by using a series of 26 movements that vary from lengthening activities to mid-line crossing to energy activating actions. These 26 movements work to calm the body’s stress response, which in turn allows the use of higher brain function.

Rational thought hangs out in the neo-cortex of the brain. That’s the big part that covers everything and takes up the most space between your ears. Stress, which can be triggered by anything from new learning to a family crisis to starting a diet, tends to put us into the control of the mid-brain and more of a survival way of thinking. When that happens, we are inclined react without thinking and new learning or performance becomes almost impossible.

So how does that relate to my golf game? Ever have a bad day on the course? The weather is beautiful, but from the first putt you know you are destined to set the record for highest golf score ever? With each subsequent putt, you stress more and more…..and things get worse and worse. With BrainGym® in your bag of tools, you can stop, perform a few of the activities (which by the way require NO equipment) and watch your game switch on like a light. It is total coolness.

Or let’s say you have aging parents and you are concerned about their long term mental clarity (or maybe your own). BrainGym® uses the ages old (appropriate for this illustration, doncha think?) concept of movement to keep brain function more active. If you’d like to understand the physiology behind how this works, kick back and trudge through a book by Carla Hannaford call Smart Moves: Why Learning Isn’t All In Your Head. It’s a bit heavy for me tastes until about Chapter 5. Then it’s just fascinating.

Law enforcement and emergency services are other fields that stand to experience tremendous benefits from my cool mojo called BrainGym®. Qualifying on the range, stress management, mental clarity….all are huge reasons to check into this thing called BrainGym®.

If I still haven’t gotten your attention, ask a question in the comments section and I’ll gladly provide more information. It’s really cool stuff, and very much worth the money. For that matter, if you do choose to invest in the three day workshop, fully participate (it is, after all, a participation workshop), and come away feeling your time has been wasted, I will give you your money back and you can keep the course materials. The only thing you are risking is spending three days in the company of some really cool people snacking on chocolate, cheese, and fresh fruit.

Here’s everything you need to know to get registered.

Have a wonderfully nourishing day.

PS: If you are into any kind of performing arts, Brain Gym is a must have for your tool kit. It can really rock your performance world!

Nice Girls and Nice Guys Finish (Middle) Class

Have a blessed and peaceful day.

But this…..this rocks. This is something I needed to read this morning. I am trusting you might find it nourishing and delicious for your soul as well.

Hit it, Danielle!

step away from the karma. choosing not to get involved.

This time of year really makes me want to step up to the plate and be authentically natural and supremely powerful. The new life, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and yes, even the wind. I thought it would be a fabulous time to share some things that make my world Natural-ly, Powerful-ly Amazingly Smiley.

Just think about the raw power it takes for one of these to push through the soil, stretching, climbing, digging, and POP! No makeup, no skin care routine. Just plenty of raw natural beauty.

Times 20 (-ish)

Can tulips shave? These beauties have a five o’clock shadow that’s just a bit obnoxious!

And then there are these tulips……

Nothing says natural powerful like flying pony tails, tiger socks, and being a foot taller than every other nine year old.

And if that doesn’t suffice……..

Smoking everyone down the court and banking it off the glass right through the net is pretty powerful. So is being a foot off the floor AND a foot taller than anyone else this side of the Amazon. See a pattern taking shape?

And what could be more naturally powerful than a beautiful day of sun……..

And raw feminine power smacking a tennis ball. I pity the poor dudes on the other side of that net!

If that’s not enough natural power, how ’bout some man-made power laced with some hunky man power?

Yeah….I know. I’ve used this shot before. What can I say? This man on this tractor, says natural powerful on a level that sends me into orbit….with no rocket boosters necessary.

I think I hear a tractor. Better head to the farm. Somebody needs me. <wink-nudge-wink-grin>

Gifted and Talented.

And I was one of them.

And no, you don’t get to have an opinion on that, so there.

I still don’t know how I “passed” that test, especially after the pattern block puzzle kicked my whiny hiney. I just knew after THAT part of the test, I would forever be relegated to spend my days as <shudder> NORMAL. Oh, and when I couldn’t remember as an 8th grader that 14-9=5, I figured I was a goner, too. Stress can really mess with your head.

But alas, I was deemed ABnormal and was rewarded by being allowed to ditch math class a couple of days a week to go ponder solutions to the world’s problems. I was good at that. There were no pattern blocks.

I spent lots of time in this fledgling program solving analogy puzzles. You know the ones…..

Sue is in room A. Jason is in room C. Joe is serving punch to Charlie. Where is Charlie?

Then you get this chart with a bunch of squares where you place X’s in the boxes that identify what couldn’t possibly happen. If CSI would employ this miraculous technique to solve a crime scene, we’d only have 30 minute shows.

Anyways, I rocked (and still do) at this demonstration of my AB-normalness. Give me words, and I will input into the brain bowl, stir it around, and produce the most deliciously logical answer.

Great for G/T class. Not so great where a suspension of rational thought is required. It makes for some smelly elephant poo.

It also makes my elephant turn a nice rosey shade of pink….as in

IT DRIVES ME CRAZY!!!!!!!!!

(Disclaimer for remainder of this post: My elephant is not any ONE person. It represents a system of belief that leaves me gasping for breath. If you choose to assign an individual identity to any part of what follows, YOU ALONE are responsible. Do not blame me.)

I do not understand why normally intelligent people suddenly give up on anything that remotely resembles logic when it comes to religion. Don’t misunderstand me at all. Faith rocks. Believing in something one cannot see ROCKS!!! Jesus ROCKS!!!!

Arrogant suspension of logic sucks rocks…..and makes me see pink elephants.

What can I say? I am cursed…er…uh…I mean blessed with logic. It’s in my genes. It’s on my 8th grade transcript AND my GRE results. It oozes from my marrow. It’s just there.

For 37 years of this life, I obediently suspended logic (what am I saying? I obsessively suspended logic) in support of a precise way of pleasing the Big Guy. I was the champion of persecuting anyone else who didn’t suspend all logic and think like me.

And then logic tackled me like a freight train.

And then my faith in the Universal Master grew stronger than it has ever been.

And then I wanted what had been promised. And I wanted everyone else to have what had been promised. It was some majorly cool mojo.

And then I told a large group of ladies (because elephant logic says those are the only ones I get to speak to) about the cool mojo.

And then I was swatted by the elephant with a rolled up newspaper. Bad Angie. Bad Girl. Bad influence. (Figures of speech, of course…..this is my insanity trip and I can remember it like I want.)

And then I tried using logic with the elephant. And the elephant head butted me and it hurt. It hurt alot.

(Apologies for the repeated us of And then….. Just a few more, I promise.)

And then I used determination. If there is one thing I have, it’s determination. I determined to be a part of change.

And then God removed me and told me to leave them alone. They were not mine to change. I only get to change me.

For four years, I’ve wandered in the desert alone with Him. For four years, He has nurtured and nourished me. Many think I am dying of thirst, having cut myself off from the Source of Life. Quite the contrary. I’m being carried along by the Source of Life. He has shown me much in that time and has strengthened my faith in HIS power.

He has also continued to show me the logic of His power.

But the elephant has remained tied like a noose around my neck, still stealing my breath on occasion.

And so as I begin to shovel the stinky elephant poo from under my bed, and prepare to ship my elephant off to Zimbabwe forever forgiving and releasing it, my vision becomes clearer, and I can see the blessings and the power and the freedom that comes with a logical relationship with the Father.

Part 2? I’ll have some fun with pink elephant logic.

That began a series of dialogs with some close friends about how best to gently but effectively lance and lick those wounds without causing major collateral damage. Two important facts here: 1) I’m good at generating collateral damage, and 2) I suck at cleaning up collateral damage.

What can I say? It’s a gift. Call it like I see it. State the obvious, even when not politically or socially correct. I’m working on it. Have been since about second grade. Middle school wasn’t pretty.

Anyway, I made a conscious decision to publicly lick my wounds with gentle humor. Everyone needs to laugh. Laughter is good medicine as long as it isn’t directed at someone. Humor is just what the doctor ordered.

Then I began referring to these wounds as my elephant. I mentioned to others my need to exercise the elephant, maybe by airlifting it to Zimbabwe (do they have elephants in Zimbabwe? I wouldn’t want mine to be lonely.) I started thinking about the humor in seeing my situation as an elephant.

As my tired body headed to bed last night, I noticed my hubby had the TV on (as always) and he was watching some nature show….on elephants.

Ironic, doncha think?

Then this morning, I glance down and see my Animal Spirit Guides book laying there beckoning me to read from it. And being as to how my elephant was born in part because of my obsessions with supernatural possibilities and communication with the Divine, I glanced up and said, “So, ya got somethin’ ya wanna tell me, eh?”

And I opened the book to the page on elephants. That many elephants in that short a time span said to me that there was something I needed to hear, and since they weren’t pink, I figured I hadn’t lost my mind completely yet.

If ELEPHANT shows up, it means:

Do not let anything stand in the way of attaining this goal that is so integral to your purpose.

Neither rain, snow, sleet, hail, elephants, or credit card debt shall stand in my way.

You have the determination and persistence required to overcome the current challenges you’re faced with.

Yes, Ma’am. Dem things on my head would be bull horns. Git outta my way.

Trust your senses, and if something in your life “smells” bad, take the necessary action to do away with it.

That would be referring to the elephant poo under my bed. Anybody got a big shovel?

Remain loyal to those closest to you in spite of anyone questioning their integrity.

Well, that would fit any number of situations, past or present.

It’s a good time to renew your sense of connectedness to the divine.

Uhm…yeah…that’s part of what birthed this elephant in the first place, but hey, anyone wanna take me to the mountains? Or maybe I’ll just enjoy a bit of farm worship.

Call on ELEPHANT when:

There are mental, emotional, or physical obstacles in your path that seem to block you from achieving your goals or following your mission.

Okay, Mr. Suffleupagus. (I had to look that one up!) I dialed your number already. That’s why we are here. (Is he an elephant or a mammoth? Close enough.)

You’re feeling tired, weak, or depressed and want more energy and vitality.

Hunky Farmer Boy might appreciate this.

You want to feel more confident.

Darn tootin’. (oooo…those smell like elephant poo!)

You want to increase your libido and encourage romantic feelings.

Hunky Farmer Boy might appreciate this even more!

You find yourself in a position of power and responsibility, one that requires you to be a strong and effective leader.

I think self-employed (aka jobless) qualifies me on this one.

If ELEPHANT is your power animal:

You have an insatiable hunger for knowledge and continually seek to understand things.

Check. See my transcripts if in doubt.

You’re at your best doing some kind of political or social work or otherwise being in a responsible position of public service.

EWWWWW. Got that dirty, nasty, smelly t-shirt. Took me 13 years to bust outta that jail. I’m layin’ low for a while…..like ’til death.

You have an innate capacity for drawing on ancient wisdom and communicating this whenever appropriate.

I’m getting this out of an animal spirit guide book, aren’t I? And that innate capacity for drawing on ancient wisdom and communicating is the sperm donor of this elephant I birthed.

You’re a passionate and uninhibited lover who’s quite able to please and satisfy your partner.

Sounds like a good question for Hunky Farmer Boy. Oops! He’s snoring. Guess that means I’m REAL good.

Once you set your mind to something, there’s nothing that will stop you from obtaining it.

Mom? Dad? Anyone wanna weigh in on this one? Stop laughing and shaking your head. Determination is a good thing. Bulldozing through concrete walls with my noggin’ is a noteworthy talent, don’t you think? Never mind the blood and concussions. That’d be some of my infamous collateral damage.

Okay….yeah….Definitely thinking the Big Power is telling me something.