Sitting in the Trees

Canopy Above the Platform

The sturdy platform in the trees awaits. A beautiful spot nestled amongst the pines, oaks and maples. Today, the sunshine dapples the platform when the breeze kicks up.

It’s a sweet spot to reflect. Eyes closed. Hearts beating. “Breathe In. Breathe Out.” Amazing what one can hear and feel when the mind is quieted.

A whiff of incense every now and then. A chipmunk skitters past. The hail of acorns. It’s a place of peace and aliveness.

The first time I went alone, and the platform was waiting for me. The pad and pillow lovingly placed; a tiny yellow-orange maple leaf a surprise-added decoration.

As as soon as my body settled onto the pillow, I felt like I was swaying. “Is the platform moving?” I continued to sit and realized that the beating of my own heart was so strong it was wracking my body, causing it to sway back and forth.

This got me thinking about my heart. It’s been aching for quite some time and feeling the strength of it beating...almost knocking me off kilter was scary and humbling. “Why do I take it for granted?” In the trees, the tightness in my chest was gone. The aching soothed.

Quite recently my heart and I have been reintroduced to one another. Less than a month ago, following a walk with a friend, I started having immense pain shoulder-to-shoulder followed by waves of nausea as I drove home. I drove straight to an Urgent Care clinic; and the symptoms persisted. I was scared. Embarrased. And certain I was having a heart attack.

I never once considered that stress might be the culprit. My best friend’s Mom had passed away that morning. I sensed it and called the family moments after her body shut down. This followed by an envelope that was received in the mail without any letter inside and the words “help me” on the flap. My adrenaline was taking over most of the time these days...as with the envelope - I shifted into action quickly investigating and confirming that the sender wasn’t in harm’s way. She wasn’t. I was.

And lately the tight-heart is sometimes combined with trembling. The whole-body kind.

So when I feel myself swaying side to side, I do a quick survey and find that I’m not trembling. My heart is simply beating with such gusto that I am physically moving. Like the trees that are unashamedly waving their magnificent tapestry of leaves of all shapes and sizes. My body quakes.

“Okay, breathe again.”

Settling in I begin to feel the channels and my spirit open. “Breathe in. Breathe out. I am right here with you.”

It’s the mantra I repeat when the mind takes over. The mantra keeps me grounded and safe in the lap of Mother Nature; a space where it would be easy to grow wild and untethered.

The smell of pine needles and earth is intoxicating.

The platform has an energy about it. And sometimes it feels like a living, breathing thing. One penny sits here. A leaf flutters there. Like a hidden zen-oasis. The perfect spot to come back home to myself. A place to rest. And “regroup your energy” my friend encourages.

The mind clears. Slowly. My heart calms. No more gusto-beating, it is now a low flutter; indiscernible. Soft as a leaf making it’s way back home to rest on the earth for another season.

“Breathe in. Breathe out. I am right here with you.”

Kissed by Kauai

The sweet smell of plumeria mixed with other natives like hibiscus, tuberose and pikake;
I am intoxicated.

A sensuous kiss every morning and a soft hug goodbye every night;
I drift.

The earth, sandy, volcanic, smooth, shell-laden, overtaken by succulents - vibrates;
I am alive.

A call, a whisper, the roaring applause of a most magnificent blue-kind;
I am saved.

 A Native Hibiscus

The X Man

This is the story of a complete stranger – one that left an enormous impression on me – in just a brief period of time. It was during a routine wait for testing at the hospital that I first came in contact with The X Man. Upon entering the reservation area, I staked out an unoccupied area and after checking in, settled in facing the entrance to unashamedly begin a favorite ritual – people watching.

X marks the spot

The usual suspects lined the perimeter around check in: an elderly gentleman with his wife – I immediately guessed that he was the patient taking note of the wrinkled creases of concern present on his companion’s face; a pregnant woman – unaccompanied and seemingly lost in the depths of PEOPLE Magazine; a young couple and their just-walking toddler; a 30-something man, unshaven and dressed from head-to-toe in Carhart. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

That’s when The X Man rolled in, the whir of his electric wheelchair barely audible. Accompanied by two bright-eyed teenagers, who seemed perfectly at ease, he radiated strength and in the spotlight of the eyes in the waiting room, he took the stage like a seasoned actor.

At first glance, the man appeared to be completely disabled. And then he spoke. Actually, he laughed. After finding a place to wait, he began talking with his children, his voice filled with animation – and they laughed openly together. For all those present, this man was a reflection of what is great about life – and the pursuit of happiness.

Was I the only one who had been touched by his grace? I quickly surveyed the room: the elderly couple were quietly whispering to one another, the pregnant woman returned to her retreat in PEOPLE and the family was preoccupied with the “too cute” antics of their little one. “Strange” I thought to myself. When The X Man walked or rather rolled into the room, I felt the air shift a bit – almost like the energy had been replaced with something more refreshing. But the others didn’t seem to notice or if they did, they weren’t letting on.

When the registration desk called his name, X glided over with his children just close enough. When it was time for The X Man to sign the informational forms necessary to admit him for testing, he took the pen in his mouth and drew an X on the signature line. After reviewing the signature, the registration clerk asked if “someone else could sign for him?” X regarded the woman with genuine kindness and said “that is my official and legal signature. These are my children. They are minors and I am their guardian - and as such cannot give permission for my care.”

At that moment, The X Man dazzled like Venus on a dark, cloudless, winter’s night in northern Michigan. My mind was flooded with images of people I had come in contact with over the years who when questioned about even the simplest things were unkind, disingenuous, and at times, downright mean. I was one of those people. The X Man reminded me that day that as human beings, we are born with the right to be respected. And that no matter how many times a question is asked, it is still deserving of a kind and authentic answer. After all, it is how we treat those around us that matters most when we leave this planet. The X Man’s legacy will live in my mind forever. And I don’t even know him.

Running Away from it All

People have many different responses to pain – some run in fear, some face their fears and become fierce and others practice complete denial – refusing to admit there is a problem. My response has always been anger first, ask questions later, but dear woman I know, when facing extraordinary circumstances, opted for the first course of action…she ran.

An artfully intelligent CPA, my friend Anne wears an expression of compassionate pain. It was over breakfast one sunny morning that we reconnected after an extended period of time. I always look forward to sharing stories with Anne – a person who misses nothing when it comes to the details she always surprises me with a remark or insight – one that often changes my own perception of what occurred.

Over breakfast Anne was smiling but somber. We dug in and when she looked up and began telling me about a job offer that she had received from a current client and how she was ready for a “change” I knew instantly that she wasn’t just referring to her career. Anne went on to tell me about the offer, lightly seasoning the conversation with her dissatisfaction and her current husband’s job status.

As she continued on, telling me about the position available, I wondered to myself if she was really hearing what she was saying. You see, Anne, in so many words had shared that after thirteen years in a second marriage, she was considering divorce. It turns out, she didn’t.

The next year was a whirlwind for Anne. She began facing demons and challenges one at a time – drawing upon the Taurus warrior within to rise up and move on. It was during a critical time in the “proceedings” when Anne started running. We would meet early in the morning and run for an hour on the treadmill. At first, Anne could only run for five-minute increments. Today, with the help of a dedicated trainer and nutritionist she has completed three half marathons and run more miles than I can count.

Anne’s tenacity and dedication to fitness has created a “safe place” for her to grieve and conquer her own fears. One mile at a time, my friend Anne is re-creating her life - extraordinary for this grandmother of three and mother of two. By running away, Anne has actually returned to herself and has come to realize that after all these years, she is exactly who she has been waiting for.

The Truth About Three Men on a Plane

What do a corporate law attorney, a used car salesman, and the leader of a Shiite Muslim church, have in common? One plane ride.

I am grateful to have traveled the United States as a child and as an adult have continued this tradition. Whether it is for business or pleasure – I always find travel exhilarating and the people I meet – enlightening. This is the story of three men I met while traveling at three different times.

A beautiful flight over the Pacific

The first, an enormous man in stature was squeezed up against the window when I took my seat in the middle of a crowded 747. I immediately began drawing conclusions about what this man did for a living and where he might be headed on this pre-dawn flight. Just as we reached altitude, breakfast in a box was served. Although I enjoy traveling, my stomach has never settled into flying – so it’s rare that I eat on a plane. I carefully opened my box to see if there was anything inside that I could tolerate. Considering the turbulence, I decided against the gamble. That’s when the man spoke “You gonna’ eat that?” he said in a gruff but soft voice? I glanced over without meeting his eyes and slid the meal across to his tray – “nope, it’s all yours!”

Over the next hour, I learned that this gentle giant was a successful corporate attorney who in his off time enjoyed running up and down mountains. In fact, he really got off on seeing how many he could run up in a single day! He had two children, a golden retriever and was very happily married. As he talked, his low, melodic voice melted away every pre-conception I had formulated. He went from being an oversized jock to a family man with endurance beyond measure.

I met man number two in first class. It was a mid-afternoon flight and I was aisle-side. I packed my stuff up and prepared for take-off noticing that the man was simply dressed and alertly looking around the cabin. When beverage service was started, the man ordered a Guinness. Funny, I would have pegged him as a Coors Light kind of guy – again, my inquisitive nature got the best of me and I found myself striking up a conversation with the man about his beverage of choice.

We talked in short bursts of conversation – exchanging basic information with each other and commenting on our final destinations. As expected, our discussion turned to our professions and when he found out about my marketing background, the man candidly shared his story of success – in developing a niche’ market that at the time, and place, was virtually untapped.

You see this southern gentleman had a daughter who was a lesbian. When she came out, he was shocked but explained: “that she is still my daughter and I am very proud of her.” Over the course of meeting his daughter’s friends, he came to realize that there weren’t a lot of places (car dealers included) where homosexual people were comfortable shopping. That’s when the man had an epiphany: he would try to develop an atmosphere of equality in his dealerships that would engage a market that had thus far been discouraged and demonized.

Turns out, it was a winning strategy and the man was formulating a plan to cater to the “female market.” Providing a similar low-stress buying environment. Our brief meeting reminded me that there is something much bigger than us at work – and when we apply our compassionate nature, good things happen quickly.

The third man scared me from the moment I laid eyes on him. I was one of the last to board a sunset flight out of Chicago bound for Traverse City when a man in full Arab attire, rushed in behind me. I did my best to make room for him, haphazardly situating my bag beneath a too-tight spot and sitting down immediately. When the man paused in front of the vacant seat next to me, my heart skipped a beat and I turned towards the window and away from my prejudicial fears.

In a thick middle-eastern accent, the man kindly asked if he could “have a seat”? Growing up in a rural, white-bred community, my mom made sure that we understood equality, but post-911, I simply couldn’t seem to control my fight-or-flight reaction to the man.

The plane taxied and the man proceeded to engage me in conversation. Can’t he SEE how uncomfortable I am just being near him – my mind screamed? Instead when he asked, “do you live in Traverse City?” my response cut through the thinning air like a knife “yes, do YOU?” That’s when our conversation took a U-turn – shifting to his thoughts about the war and President Bush.

It turns out, this man was a high-ranking Shiite Muslim who had been called on in the past to advise the President about Saddam Hussein and Iraq. He passionately explained how Hussein had murdered 18 members of his family, including his great, great grandfather, whose body had recently been recovered in a mass grave.

That’s when I realized the gift that this man had given to me. I became an information-seeking sponge. I had purposefully kept my distance from being “informed” about the war – to the point that I avoided almost all media and news stories related to what was happening a world away. Here was a credible source – one with first-hand experience. I was intent on learning everything I possibly could in a mere 45 minutes.

And teach he did. When we finally parted ways, this gentle man handed me a slip of paper with his contact information neatly inscribed, and invited me to attend one of his lectures at the Mosque where he guides thousands of faithful followers. I have yet to take him up on the offer – but I am fully aware that it will probably result in the same type of ego-altering experience that we had already shared – on a sunset flight back home.

The Million-Dollar Man

I’ve learned a lot from people over the years. Some lessons were more direct than others. This is a story of courage and persistence. When I went to work for “Sam”: I was a young, newly married 20-something. My husband and I were classic D.I.N.K.’s, (Double Income No Kids) couple living the Rocky Mountain high life that many dream about

That's him. The million-dollar man

My job at Sam’s firm quickly evolved – I quickly rose through the ranks becoming a department head responsible for the company’s major accounts throughout the U.S. With the responsibility, came the pressure to sell. You see, Sam believed that I was a natural salesperson – cut from the same cloth he was.

As a wildly successful CEO, Sam was a former Special Forces Officer in Vietnam who was always “packing.” In the industry that our company dominated, he was revered and said to “have a silver tongue.” He lived the life of a cowboy in the rural mountainous range of Colorado, raising horses amidst sacred Indian burial grounds. At the time, Sam was 60-something and each morning he sauntered into the office, decked out in hip hugging Wranglers that were flattering in a Cowboy Up kind of way. He had silver hair, a perfect set of gleaming white teeth, and more pairs of custom cowboy boots and hats than I could count.

I never met Sam until after I was hired. My office was situated around the corner from his and mid-morning, I heard him yelling a co-worker’s name at the top of his lungs. Little did I realize, but this habit would become the stuff that made us stick. Months later, Sam was yelling MY NAME at the top of his lungs. At first, I would jump up, as if someone had placed a hot brand on my rear quarters and bolt into his office, flushed and out of breath. Later I found myself kidding Sam about “using the expensive paging system again.”

Throughout the course of my career, Sam became an unlikely mentor. We would sit in his office – he behind a massive, overly intimidating wood desk and me on the other side (miles away) and have deep philosophical talks about business and success. Most of our conversations ended with Sam inquiring about when I wanted to “start selling?” I kept telling him “I just can’t do it. I just cannot see myself asking people for money – asking them to sign a contract. I’m much more comfortable selling ideas and concepts.”

One day, Sam was particularly intent on changing my mind and I asked him point blank: “Okay Sam, how do you do it? How do you ask someone for One Million Dollars? His answer was poignantly simple: You just ask.

I got it that day. I realized that the only thing holding anyone back from reaching their potential – whether it be monetary or otherwise was simply asking.

A few short years later, I was hired as the Marketing Director for a successful design firm. Interestingly, the position turned into one of sales. In just ten months, I was solely responsible for $300,000 in new sales and contributing to over a half-million in others.

The mystery of “could I sell?” was solved.

It turns out, Sam was right. I could sell. Just not then and not there.

A few months after my departure, Sam sold the company and, being the brave and wandering adventurer he was, sold everything (cowboy boots and all). Last I heard he was combing the beaches of Baja. No doubt glittering like the million-dollar man that he is.

Getting to the Heart of Things: How our Family Wound up Buying a Horse

How our family wound up buying a horse instead of a boat is a question simply answered, yet the pathway to our decision is less straightforward.

It was days before our weekend family movie night – Friday or Saturday evening - when we pick a movie to watch together – that a friend recommended the movie “Buck,” a documentary about Buck Brannaman. The movie touched a nerve with me personally as I too had grown to love horses and for many reasons, including how my Mom’s intense focus on horses had driven a wedge in her marriage, precipitating a very messy divorce, I decided that wasn’t the path for me. Happily married with one child, if given a preference between participating in a hobby with or without my husband and son, I prefer the former.

So it was that we three sat in rapt attention as Buck’s life story played in front of us. The movie ended and we all sat quietly. Rowan broke the silence with a question “Mom, do you think we could get a horse?” “Wow. That’s the million-dollar question,” I thought. I looked over at Doug to gauge his reaction and said: “yeah Rowan, I think we could.”

“I want a black Tennessee Walker,” Rowan said.

“That’s great Rowan but that’s not how finding a horse works. The right horse will find us and he could be any shape, color or size. But we’ll know him when we meet him,” I said gently.

Pusher's Sunrise Son and I

The next week, I mentioned to a co-worker who I know is involved in the local horse scene, that we were looking for a horse. “I’ve been out of horses for a lot of years, and the guys are new riders so it will have to be a really special horse,” I said. She responded thoughtfully “you know, I think my husband might be selling his horse…”

“Really?” I said. “What kind is he?”

“He’s a black Tennessee Walker.”

The hair stood up on my neck and I got goose bumps. “Really?” I said.

The series of events that took place next however predictable, I am certain unfolded with divine guidance. We drove out to meet Pusher and each one of us jumped up on his back, bareback with only a halter and lead rope and rode him. I knew immediately he was the horse for our family but the decision had a lot more tied to it than just finances…for me, it meant an opportunity to change my relationship with horses. And the only way I was going to consider it is if my family was on-board too.

Doug and I went to dinner and I shared my reservations. The fact that I didn’t need or want a hobby that would take me away from my family; I loved them both and didn’t want to repeat what I had lived through as a teenager. That if we made the decision to buy Pusher, it would be a game-changer and we would be on a different track, one that likely would involve horses for a long time to come; that more than anything this was a family decision, not a “Mom” decision.

Doug listened patiently and told me how much he loved the horse. It was almost instant. He felt comfortable and happy. In the end, we chose to buy Pusher – an animal with a heart – versus some thing without one (read: boat).

Months later, we are still head-over-heels in love with Pusher. Trained for the mounted police, he appreciates and responds to the differences between our riding styles. When he is carrying our ten-year-old, his behavior is slightly different then when Doug or I are riding him. The thing that remains consistent is that when we trust that he will care for us; he trusts that we will care for him.

We have gradually pursued pleasure riding – the boys more often-than-not riding horses that are hand-selected by Noelle, our trainer – while I get to ride Pusher who we have nicknamed “Mr. Wonderful.” Often I find myself so overcome with joy after leaving a ride or visit that I can’t help but cry.

Two weeks ago, after returning from our first event horse event, I shared this sentiment with Noelle “Thank you to you and your family for caring for us and our boy. It’s like horses never left me…a good feeling.” Her response “…The feeling? Either plain exhaustion or seeing horses in your son’s eyes.” My guess: it’s a little bit of both.