White horses and the power of intention
I just returned from a sublime week in California, wrapping up my Master Coach training with Martha Beck herself. It was beyond special. I've had difficulty figuring out how to describe the experience with words. There was a convergence of beauty and energy of place, people, horses and nature. There was a collective intention to learn, love and share. I am beyond honored to be called a Master Coach, and of course I'm still learning and always will be. While I was working on my application for the Master Coach program back in March, I created a super-quick vision board one morning. It looked like this:
My favorite part of it was this woman draped in filmy orange fabric, a beautiful white horse behind her, its eyes peacefully closed. This was my intention for the horse coaching that I knew would come at the end of our training. At that point I just wanted to survive the horse coaching. I didn't know too much about it except that you couldn't hide anything from a horse. I had a crazy idea that the horses would gaze deep into my soul, find me wanting, and ignore me or run away. So this image , which I gazed at for many months leading up to my horse experience, well, it was there to comfort me. Maybe I would be like gauzy-dress-woman and a white horse would follow me. Peaceful. (I ignored the reality that the horse was probably blinking from the wind machine that had the model's hair going all crazy like that.)
So, the months went on. I completed myriad assignments. I received helpful feedback. I cried some. I hid some. I stepped out some. I tried all kinds of crazy ideas. I took some risks. I did my best to be present and to show up. And finally, the time came to show up in person at Martha's ranch.
I arrived just a little bit early with Erin, a fellow Master-Coach-to-be who was familiar with the ranch and the horses, as she's an expert Equus coach. (Thank you, Universe, for making those arrangements!) We had time to go see the beautiful labyrinth, which meant walking through a fenced area with horses. Two white horses!
So there I was. Me and a white horse. No boundaries between us. Plenty of room for it to ignore me and stay far away, disappointed with my lack-luster soul.
Ah, but that's not what happened. No. This horse came right up to me. Snuffled my face with his sweet velvety nose. Exhaled his grassy breath onto my cheek. (How had I never had that incredible experience before?) We took a selfie together. Erin said it appeared that he was very agreeably posing with me.
Wow. We hadn't even gotten to the horse coaching day and my vision had come true, minus orange see-through dress and wind machine.
Now I see white horses everywhere. I saw this beautiful one yesterday.
I bet he dresses up like a unicorn for Halloween!
I saw a spotted white and tan horse today, but didn't take a picture. I'm seeing them everywhere, in catalogs, in paintings. Nearly every day, a white horse. For now, they're talismans of what's possible, just like it said in the appropriately orange words I glued across gauzy-girl's waist. "Think what's possible." So much is possible. Me. A master coach. Hanging out for a weekend with Martha, Koelle, Jennifer, Bridgette. And my wonderful Master Coach cohort. Learning. Teaching. Sharing. Being.
So much is possible.
Vision boards help me with my intentions. They provide images for me to connect with, perhaps even on a subconscious level. And they are so much fun! If you're in the New Orleans area and love vision boards and wigs and dancing, it's still not too late to sign up for WIGS and WIGS this Thursday, November 14. Who knows what you might put on your board that may come true in the best way? Intention is a powerful tool.
And if you see a white horse, please say hello for me!
Tricky brain and grass time
Ok, it's been four days and I've been listening closely to what kinds of little bon mots my brain tosses out there while I'm trying to get things done, stick to my plan and do my work. If you're just arriving at this post without the background, you might want to begin here: This is what I've been hearing. Prepare yourself - it's not pretty:
"You know, there's too much to do. Even if you worked all day, you'll never be done. And then you'll just be working all the time. Yuck to that!"
"Being efficient is soul sucking. It's only for boring people who don't have a rich inner life. Too much neatness is sterile and the sign of an empty mind."
"It's too hard. You don't have what it takes. Give up."
"There are too many steps! Aaaah! We don't know what to do!"
"Oh, see - that didn't work. You totally don't know anything about websites."
"Well- you missed doing your ten minute thing on the Fourth of July. You'll never catch up now. Might as well just avoid everything for another week."
"Wait until Wednesday. Wait until Thursday. Wait until tomorrow. Wait until after lunch. Wait until tonight. Wait until Monday."
"Oh my god. Look at that list of things you want to write/change/create/tweak. It's a mile long. You'll never get all that done in time."
"It's too late. Too late, I tell you!"
"Zzzzzzzzzz."
Ah, yes. My helpful mind! Despite its cries, I got some stuff done. I stuck with my ten minutes per day of working on my last little pile (I doubled up today since I didn't do it yesterday. It's smaller. My space is in order, overall.
But, there's stuff on the list that I was really planning to work on. It's bigger stuff, with multiple steps, and I avoided it. Here's why. Everything I've done so far to help myself be more productive is rational and ought to work, but it doesn't completely, just like when people try to lose weight with very reasonable rational diets, and their bodies freak out on them. My brain is in rebellion mode. Sabotage mode. It doesn't trust that I'm not going to become an all work, no play kind of girl. It remembers how tired we used to be when I was working all the time. It's panicked. It's resisting any form of discipline. And my body's not helping much either. It just wants to sleep. A lot. Whether I go to bed early or late.
If my brain and body feel deprived by my time management and task organization "plan", they're going to fight me. I need a new tool. As Martha Beck says, I just need to get my brain and body to "join up" with me, much like a horse will follow the lead mare in its herd. And that won't happen when we're in "famine" mode, and all my brain sees are rules about how we're going to spend our time and what we "can't" do, making my body anxious, fidgety and just plain tired.
Because when I'm not relaxed about how my day's going to go, when I'm gritting my teeth or dreading what I've put on my to do list, I'm not particularly productive. Sure, I can force it and just work anyway, but I'll pay later with that sense from my body and mind that I'm not to be trusted, that this isn't going well, and next time we might as well just go to sleep.
So, how do I get relaxed and get my body and mind to trust that all will be well - that we don't need to go into avoidance napping mode? By giving them what they want- a safe place to not have to do anything. I call it "grass time". Ten minutes of quiet out in the grass, with the cats if they happen to be around. And a couple of mantras - these borrowed or adapted from from Martha Beck's Four Day Win:
"Everything is OK." "I don't have do do anything at all for the next ten minutes." "In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter what I get done today. It's much more important to be kind than to check things off the to do list. I'll start by being kind to myself." "If I never changed anything at all about how I get things done, the world would keep revolving." "It's OK to rest."
I'm looking for a relaxation response - a sense from my body and mind that all is well, with easy breathing, relaxed muscles, and a general sense of wellness and peace. Nearby cats always help!
And then, with that peaceful state of mind, I can get to work.
Give it a try and see if ten minutes of really doing nothing gives your body and mind a little more reason to trust you, and a little more interest in happily going about your day with you.
Turtle steps
The way to get anything done is a step at a time. One little step. Martha Beck calls them turtle steps. I don't know about you, but I've been known to act like a rabbit. Sprint like heck, and then get so pooped out that I abandon everything and nap for a week. When I act like a turtle and take small steps on a regular basis, I get a lot more accomplished and it's amazing to look back and see what I completed! It's just like hiking the Appalachian Trail - it's five million steps and over 2000 miles-- but you can't think that way - you have to just keep walking a little every day.
Turtles keep coming to find me to remind me to take turtle steps. And the most recent ones I've seen have also been submerged in muddy water - I wonder what that means? Don't be afraid to get a little dirty? Don't be afraid of murkiness? Go to the spa?
About a week ago I was on a wordless walk with a dear friend and I took her to my favorite tree. This was the tree where I saw my turtle about two months prior, but I really didn't expect to see her, as she had been sitting on the forest floor a good 30 feet from the tree last time. Well, apparently my favorite tree might also be hers as well! We arrived at the base of the tree, and there she was, completely submerged in a mossy puddle made by the tree roots. We sat for quite a while and she finally moved, sticking her neck out.
I felt very honored to see this wild turtle again - I know they have small home ranges, but it was still mighty special.
Today I worked diligently, but with free time built in too (I've learned that my mind will go into complete and utter rebellion and give up on any system if there isn't some fun built into every day - like a quick dip in the neighborhood pool) and this evening, who did we see in our garden but our own turtle who lives in the yard? We rarely see her and there she was, drinking the air conditioning condensation water in our tiny horsetail-planted wetland.
I count these sightings as auspicious messages from the universe. All is well. And I'm enjoying life, one step at a time, and savoring as I go.