This is where I spent most of my evening last night.

I’ve logged over 30k miles on this pickup since March, criss crossing three states. It’s an older pickup and the paint is peeling. But it’s mechanically sound and that’s what matters. It runs like a beast, sounds mean, is dirty tough and pulls like a work horse. And that’s what matters. Paint is of no value to me.

I enjoy doing the work myself. Be it an oil change, running businesses, riding the snorty colt, or crushing a hard workout. I’ve never had someone to do things for me. And a part of me is thankful for that.

This pickup may not be a pretty cherry as it once was. But hell, neither am I. But it gets the job done, and so do I. This pickup represents a lot of things to me. Freedom. Independence. A reminder that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Stay wild friends.

I have been dreading August for a while now.

It’s a big curve in the road for this year.

Mountains of paperwork, trying to get new clients on-boarded, and I have so many things to get done before winter and August, to me marks the beginning of the end of summer. With each day I feel I’m losing time. And with each day lost, I feel my anxiety about winter bubble up. What happens this winter, you may wonder?… I have no idea. There are probably at least ten different options, all of them good and sound. But right? I don’t know. And par for the course, the one thing I want to do, I cannot. So, with each passing day I grow more anxious.

I needed to quiet my mind. So, I dimmed the lights, rolled out my yoga mat, set a timer and told myself I would sit and listen. I like to listen to the ancient ones. Sometimes they just offer me peace. Sometimes they offer me an idea. And on rare occasion, they give me an answer. I lit my candle and sat down, crossed my legs, brought my hands to a prayer. Nip came over, laid her head in my lap and promptly went to sleep. I closed my eyes.

No sooner had I closed my eyes I heard the echo of a great roar. And from the mists of my mind came the bear, breaking branches through the brush. I saw myself draped in white furs reach to my protector. She led me to a waters edge. The air felt cold, but in a clean way, not in an uncomfortable way. We stood at the edge of the water and I saw my future on the other side. I could not make out what it was, but I knew it was over there. On the other side of this vast and black water. I saw mountains to the north across the water, and snowy prairies to the west of the great water. I began to wonder how I get there. Do I go North or West? When I get there, what will I need? Who will be on the other side? Will anyone come with me?… in my vision my anxiety became intense. And then I heard one word. One powerful, assertive word spoken over me. “Wait”, the voice commanded. I became still, looking out over the water. In my mind fears began to rise again. “Wait.”

As I stilled, steadying myself against the bear, I watched out over the water. Still knowing my future was on the other side. Slowly, quietly, it began to snow. As it began to snow, the water, tiny particle by tiny particle began to freeze. I watched the water begin to crystallize and it became clear to me why I had to wait. I had to wait for the road to be readied, before I could come to the other side. It made no difference what was on the other side, if I had no way of getting there. I had to wait for the black water to freeze. And when the water freezes, I can begin to make my journey out onto it, making my way to my future. And as I walk, my future will become clearer the closer I get. By time I cross the water, I will know what to do when I get to the other side. But in the meantime, I am in a period of waiting. I don’t know what will happen the next few months. But I know that the path is being prepared. The snow is coming. And the ice will begin to freeze. But for now, I will still myself and wait at the edge, waves lapping at my feet, until they have prepared a way. And then I will find my destiny on the other side of the black water.

Stay Wild

I feel like a giant.

And not in a good way.

It bothers me that I don’t feel small.

This goes far beyond those 10 extra pounds every woman wants to loose (gah can we get over THAT already?). This is about feeling like you are taking up too much space in the entire scope of existence. I know I am not the only one as I have confided in many other women who, shockingly feel the exact same way.

I don’t weigh 100lbs so I am far too big to be delicate.

I am far too loud and opinionated to be cute and shy.

I am far too independent to be the damsel in distress.

I walk around sometimes feeling like there isn’t enough space for my energy, my body, my voice to all coexist inside what is supposed to be a feminine form. It’s the small girls that get picked up and swung around. It’s the ones who shop in the petite section at the store that everyone thinks are adorable… and small. I am far too rough to be one of those girls. And most of the time I am not only ok with not being one of those girls, I flat don’t want to be. I like beer and food. Sorry not sorry. I also like trucks, guns, horses, and hunting. Sorry, not sorry. I like that I can move all my furniture by myself. I have literally never needed anyone to open a damn jar for me or reach the higher shelf. I’ll get it my damn self.

But there are times when society doesn’t like girls like us (and I’d beg to argue that there are far more girls like me than the small ones), and you feel too tall. Too big. Too loud. Too strong. There are times society says that everything you are, is too big. Your aura, who you are, the energy you put into the world, is too big.

But the truth is, no one is too big. The world has grown far too small. Girls like us are not meant to be loved by small minded men. We are not meant to live in places we cannot stretch our arms out wide and praise at the top of our lungs. We are not meant to be surrounded by spaces that confine.

We, ladies, are built for the wild. We are built for mountains and wolves, deserts and eagles, prairies and buffalo, canyons and wild horses, grand adventure and warrior men. We are not too big, we are simply living in an all too small world. Break free. Stay Wild.

My musings for this morning.

What is one of the worst pieces of advice you think you’ve ever gotten?

Mine was; “Don’t talk about your ex with someone new”.

Here’s why I think it’s really bad advice. For some reason people are afraid to talk about their past. They feel like it’ll bring up feelings of jealousy or insecurity to their new partner. And maybe. Maybe for some people, mainly the wrong people. Or perhaps, my favorite, is they think you’ll be comparing your ex to your current. Gasp! (dripping sarcasm). Perhaps I guess if the person is not healed. I hate the term “over them” by the way.
Everyone has a past. And that past has been a huge part of building and shaping who you are. And that is something no one should ever be ashamed of. No matter what that past was, or the people in it. Look, we’re not 14. Believe me no one should be naive enough at this point to think you haven’t had other, SIGNIFICANT relationships in your life. And to attempt to hide that so as not to offend someone new in your life is just plain silly.
If you must be careful about talking about your ex, you’re just with the wrong person. Jealousy at this stage of the game is just nonsense. How on earth, is someone supposed to understand that perhaps you are a certain way because of something in your past, if you’re never “allowed” to tell them because some stupid dating rule. In my opinion it would be similar to “My Dad was a drug addict, so I have a fear of this, this and this…. And that is why this triggers me to be scared, or sad, or angry…” That’s pretty good information for your new partner to have is it not? Clears up a lot of confusion when you act a certain way. They can then be sympathetic to that need, speak to it, earn trust over it, and most importantly UNDERSTAND it. And I’m not talking about just the negative either.
You were in love once? That is fucking beautiful, tell me about her. I want to know. What happened? Did she break your heart? Was it mutual? Why was she so wonderful? Clearly you loved her so some part of her took care of your heart. That’s amazing and rare. Come across a picture of her, wow she was beautiful. I’m so glad she was a part of your story. Because guess what, it’s part of what made you who you are.
One gal you trusted, and she took all your money, so money is a trigger for you, cool, now I know. She cheated on you, so trust is an issue? Here have my password, I’m not her and I have no problem showing you that, and putting your heart at ease. It takes nothing away from me, but what it does do is allow me to see YOU better and allows you to see ME better. Is this making sense?
We’ve all grown because of someone amazing. We’ve all been damaged by someone who did us wrong. We’ve all been shaped by someone or something in our past. And it’s ok to talk about it. What is not ok, is pretending like the last 20 some years of your life didn’t happen. Because if you do that, who you are right now makes absolutely no sense to someone just stepping in.

Last fall, I was restless. I had just returned from the caves and fossil sites and the spirit there stirred something in me. Something that had been sleeping for years. And to be honest I couldn’t put a finger on what it was, but I became very agitated. There were going to be shifts and changes in my life that my mind was unaware of, but my body recognized. I started to prepare myself, for what I didn’t know, but I dove deep into this feeling. I dove deep into where this feeling of restlessness was leading. I began to take actions. Right, wrong or indifferent, I knew that action was the only way to come through this. Being idle for the rest of my life was not the answer.
And then it hit me. That’s what this restlessness was. I was being called to become my true self again. But it’s a funny feeling when you’re being called to be yourself, when you never realized you lost it. Fear is the greatest adversary. Fear can control you in ways you cannot imagine, in ways you don’t even know you’re being controlled. But I made decisions, and I took actions and God, the universe, whatever my many friends deem to call it, began opening doors. Quickly. Uncannily. I honestly had no idea where these doors were opening too, I just honestly, blindly kept making decisions based on my gut and trusted that what happened was on purpose. Every time I wrote down a goal, or made a choice, it was quite literally a physical close your eyes, duck your head and shoulder onto the other side, and hope for the best. And things kept happening. One after another, I was checking things off my lists and dream boards with unreal speed. My entire world was shifting.
I raised my vibrations, I raised my intentions, I started to believe. Many of the books I read, and speakers I listened to had a running theme. When you begin to ask for what you want, the universe is glad to oblige. God does not want to see you live in half truths. However, when you begin to harness this secret, there will be those that cannot come with you, nor do you want them to. I began to see with crystal clarity, who was with me, who was against me and who was indifferent to me. Have I lost people that I thought were on my side? I don’t know. Can you loose someone who was never with you? I don’t believe so. You can however, shed negative energy and people and open space in your life for more love, support, gratitude, and people who will force you to level up, live in a higher frequency, and reach your full potential. Last fall this is not where I thought I would be. To be honest I’m still not sure where this is going….. But I trust that it is going somewhere great.
When I raised my intentions, people started popping out of nowhere that saw my vison, or believed my dreams, or were kindred spirits that believed the same things I did. People I could talk to without feeling stupid, uncomfortable, judged, or awkward. People I’ve been missing that I didn’t even know existed. You can indeed be lonely for people and places you didn’t even know existed. There have been things in my life that have always guided me. The Mustang, powerful, wild, free, more spirit than flesh. They remind me every day how precious freedom is. Wolves and dogs, friends, loyalty, family, honor, and play. Loved ones that have passed continue to visit me, brining messages and love. But at the core of my totem, is the Bear. Strength, confidence, leadership, grounding force, and above all fierce. I remember talking to a Ute elder friend of mine, after the first time I dreamed of the Bear. He told me my life would never be easy and that is why I have been given such a powerful protector. When fear begins to rise in my heart, I feel again the ground shake behind me, as the spirit bear comes, and I become still. I know who I am. I know who I have always been. And when you know who you are, and what great beings walk beside you, what reason do you have to fear?

Motivation and discipline are not equal.

Just as lust and love, lust and motivation are fleeting emotions. Love and discipline are choices we make every day. Even when you don’t want to.

Depression.
Anxiety.
Chronic Pain.
Autoimmune Disorder.

Yeah. I got those. All of them. All the time. Some days are a lot harder than others. I’ll be painfully honest, I spent 2 days this week almost unable to move. I did my work, took care of my critters, and hid in a blanket on the couch. I won’t lie to you like some people who say they never miss a day, or if you just do this eventually all that shit goes away, because they are LYING to you. I can be motivated as hell one day and crippled the next. But what carries me is discipline. Discipline, like love, is the choices I make every day to better myself, even on the hard days. On hard days I may do the bare minimum, and that’s OK! But you have to have the discipline to at least do that. Mind over matter = Mind OVER body.

I did some yoga today because I have a 6hr drive ahead of me and knew a good stretch would be helpful for my body before sitting for so long. I also was able to do my first true, controlled vertical headstand because I now have the core strength I’ve been missing. So yes, I had a few bad days. But the long term progress is always there. Don’t be short sighted. You have a long race ahead of you, and slow and steady wins the race. Ready to see what discipline looks like? Let’s talk.

Oh, and Stay Wild.

I haven’t written in well over a year. There have been no words. I have been able to express better with color. I have explored painting more and for whatever reason the colors soothe me. For someone who is an avid pencil and charcoal sketcher, a lover of the color black, every tattoo and favorite piece of clothing being black, the fact that I’ve been so drawn to color is odd. Perhaps, it is God, showing me the light through my own work. Who knows? So much has changed.

I cant even express what the last year and some months has looked like to my life, my heart. Such great loss. So much learning. So much grieving, mourning, soul searching, and exploring. I am finally coming to a point where the words are coming back. I’m literally finding my voice again. But the words are different. The emotions different. The questions different. But still distinctly me. It is an odd feeling to not even recognize the person looking back at you from the mirror.

I recently had the opportunity to go tour some fossil beds, wind caves and museums from the Ice Age to the great American fur trade. I have always had a strong draw to history of all kinds, but especially American, and the Ice Age. I feel sometimes when I look at history, when it’s right in front of me…. That I have been there before. It seems so familiar. It seems as though I know what things are before I am told or read the plaques and that things that have no explanation, I somehow feel I know the answer.

I think as humans, most of us with any awakening, are drawn to the past. I think it’s human nature. We want to know who “they” were, as bad as they wanted to be remembered. What is it about this piece of human consciousness that drives us to leave a mark for anyone who might come after us? What is it about us, that makes us want to find out why they did? It seems to me that perhaps, it is the deep need to know it is not all in vein. This life, this human condition is wildly painful. The loss, pain, heartbreaks. What is the point of it all?

Perhaps, the need to put our hand print on a cave wall, is to shout to the world “I was here”, and that somehow, that mattered. That someone, one day, will see it, as say “Someone was here. They tried to tell me something. They had thought, feeling, a message.” The forever struggle for the human heart to be seen.

My draw to these peoples is real. I don’t just find it interesting, as most do. I feel an empathy toward them. I feel their pains and struggles. Or at least, I think I do. And sometimes it begs the question in my mind, of reincarnation. That feeling, when I look at these dwellings, see these prehistoric animals’ bones, feel the coldness of the caves…see hand prints on the walls, that I have been here before. I have searched for another explanation for the feeling, believe me. As the idea is not really something I readily believe. But the feeling is so strong, it begs the question.

Many people feel they were born in the wrong time. Especially people naturally drawn to agriculture, hunting, camping, and especially horses. It is a common theme among many. Saying they should have been born in the time of the cowboy, or mountain man, or Native Americans. I hear it all the time. Perhaps its not a longing for what “should have been”, but more a memory of “what was”? It is fact, that energy is constant. It may take other forms but it never ceases to exist. Regardless of faith, it is people who do not believe in life after death who are missing the facts. Once in existence, you cannot un-exist. Is it truly that far fetched a thought to think that perhaps you’ve been here before? That people are drawn to certain places or cultures, because perhaps, it is not fascination, but a memory? It is an incredible struggle I have never given much voice to for fear of sounding crazy, but I generally am not taken very seriously anyway.

I believe, in my deepest heart, that perhaps my hand is on one of those walls, from a me that existed so long ago. And it is incredibly hard to understand, and it is a battle I face with my faith as a Christian. But I cannot deny the familiarity, the power, the struggle, the longing, to be “home” again. It is becoming more apparent to me, especially after seeing these great museums and fossil beds up close, that there is a reason I have always longed for a home I could not find. It would make sense that I will never find it, because it simply does not exist anymore. It is thousands of years gone, buried in ice and snow… and memories.

Some nights I can’t sleep.  Tonight is one of those nights.  I hear the hum of my computer and the rain on the windows and the metal roof.  It’s black out here at night being so far from any city lights and the cloud cover and rain make it even darker.  It’s incredibly peaceful, and still I cannot will myself to sleep.

My heart seems to have a cycle of wants.  Sometimes it wants to be a nomad, live free, no real belongings to speak of.  Just stories of travel and adventure.  Then it will shift and I want to pick one great adventure, Alaska….  I think sometimes that’s because my high school writing teacher told me to read the book Into the Wild, and I’ve never been able to sit well with it.  Almost like I want to finish his work.  And then it’ll shift again and I’ll want to do exactly what I’m doing, working on building a homestead.  Doing as much as I can on my own, building, hunting, farming, raising animals, learning to can peaches…  Then I will shift one more time in the circle, and I’ll want nothing more than to show horses, train horses and generally live my life for nothing but horses.

All seem like the perfect life for me.  I can see myself in each of them.  There is a little bit of each in me.  And I think on these sleepless nights it is my heart fighting over which one of the people I want to be.  Because for the life of me I cannot figure out a way to become ALL of these people.  And making myself choose is painful.  How to you choose just one life?  How do you choose all you want to be?

Right now, I’m the homesteader.  I love this farm and the possibilities here.  But it doesn’t change the fact that I want to see Alaska.  Or that I want to still show a mustang at the Worlds Greatest Horseman competition.  Or that I want to live out of the back of a truck and see the world.  How do you square with that?  These are the things that keep me up at night.