You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘dogs’ tag.

 

1  …My husband’s move to Florida. 

Dog care and maintainance issues aside, I miss him.  I miss shared dinners after a long day of work, I miss taking the dogs out or exploring something new.  I miss watching a movie side-by-side either inside in the warmth and on a couch or shivering amid chilly theatre air.  I am excited to explore Florida together and create new memories under palms and sun.  I am hoping to find time to take a short trip to Marco Island which sounds like a lovely place and I have been hearing great things about it as a place to take a quick reprieve–from what I’m not sure, we do live in Florida, but I would love to explore.

 

 

 Horse and Fog by Claudio Ar

2  …The NARHA 2009 Conference! 

I am beginning an amazing new adventure involving complimentary therapies and horses and I am so excited.  One of the fantastic new avenues that has opened up due to postponing the yoga teacher training by two months is giving me the time to go to a three-day conference for specialized training in the area of Equine Facilitated Psychotherapy.  I will be beginning my first pilot program in late November and am so excited for where this new path will lead and how I can cross and blend multiple holistic approaches.  I may be incorporating some seated yoga on horseback during programming!  I am very excited about all these prospects.  If only I had a charitable financier to help afford all this here learnin’.  For now I will try to make it work any way I can because I know, somehow and in some deep place, that this new equine arena of study and practice is meant to be part of  a more cohesive therapeutic whole. 

 A Young Teresa Psychotically Happy On Her Horsey

 

 

 

3  …My upcoming speaking engagement at the “Let’s Talk” Adoption Conference at Rutgers University in New Jersey on November 7th. 

I will be speaking on Trauma and Yoga for adoptees, their caregivers, and for social service agencies working with adoptees and foster children.  I am so honored and happy to bring this information on mind/body healing to a large audience of people involved in the care of children who may find such great benefit from yoga.  I have purchased, via my good ol’ pal Amazon both of the following books to put out for attendees to flip through:  Babar’s Yoga For Elephants and My Daddy Is A Pretzel: Yoga for Parents and Kids.

 

 

 Merry Christmas to All my Flickr Friends by duane schoon on flickr

4  …Christmas in Florida. 

My lovely sister will be coming to visit and so I cannot wait to show her my new home state and enjoy the Holiday Season sans dirty soot colored snow.  New memories, new visual delights, and a reason to decorate my home thematically and “hang stockings with care”–just for a moment though because I have a feeling in a three dog household they will be dismantled and removed with very little care and much expediency. 

 

5  …My first wedding anniversary this New Year’s Eve. 

 

6  …Beginning my yoga teacher training program.

Hopefully, I will have cultivated some added manner and method of contemplative practice, meditative mind, and calmed spirit before I even walk through the door on the ever-nerve-wracking First Day of School.  I have, in the spirit of that effort, gone my first week without any television whatsoever.  Now this used to be, once upon a twenty-year-old, a very easy endeavor but I fear I have gotten into the “plopper” practices I discussed earlier this week and have to work my way back to enjoying the silence with nothing surrounding me but the tapping rhythm of puppy nails on wood and crisp pages turning in a good book. 

 

7  …Learning how to let go. 

Let go of the illusion of controls.  Let go of the illusion of “knowing”.  And letting go the self that expects so much but explores so little of the internal space of my own inner spaces–a funny irony for a person who, as a therapist, spends my days delving into the psyches of others and encouraging their self exploration.  No more holding on and holding in–I am giving over to letting go.  Tiny step by tiny step. 

 

8  …I am looking forward to seeing where this writing exploration will lead. 

I feel that all my internal archeology both starts and ends with this writing I am doing.  I have always felt like I explored myself most honestly when I wrote.  This is first time I share that journey in an outward way.  This is the first time I take this inner archeological dig into a public forum.  I am hoping it brings a new ripened and raw dimension to the journey that both enriches my own path of discovery and helps another on their internal and external quests.

 

 

Stairway to Heaven by Lyrical Time Wastrs on flickr

 

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things   that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Mark Twain

RED RAIN by Helah Al Helal on flickr

 

Metaphorically–Singing in the rain, metaphorically.  No one, trust me no one wants to see me sing, not even in the rain.  I save that glorious pleasure for solo car rides and loud showers. 

 

The intent of this post is to talk about, from a very personal perspective, trying to find the silver lining, see the bright side, look at the glass half full, and any other kitschy association to taking our unexpected roadblocks as opportunities to carve out new trails.  I am trying very hard to keep that mindset and, surprisingly, I find the more I search for the better the more “better” appears. 

 

 

Forget It by Helal Al Helals flickr

 

 

In the 48 plus hours since writing my bright and spirited “The Year of the Dog” post many things have happened and many subsequent decisions have been made–the initiator to all being that my husband and I found out that his guarantee transfer that had lingered in “on hold” for a month had fallen through due to beurocratic blah blah blah.  That left us wondering, “What next?”  This is what we came up with:

 

1)  My husband is going to continue working in New Jersey through November 6th and try to get a few more checks worth of money in before we, potentially, become a house no longer divided in half but one with a household income divided in half.  He will then move to Florida and actively look for whatever job possible, hopefully in his area of passion which is substance abuse counseling, but anything to bring some income in to supplement my salary.  He will also be returning, to my great pleasure, to school to obtain his Masters in Social Work starting next Fall 2010. 

 

2)  I will, to my great displeasure, have to postpone my Yoga Teacher Training by two months and begin the next series of trainings in mid January.  I will be a single doggie mama with three pups at home and cannot in good conscience (without ending up on Animal Planet Cops or feeling like I should) leave them home from dawn till past dusk so I can pursue my holistic dreams. 

 

3)  On a completely different note I have decided it may be necessary to look into Doggie Ritalin.  I am beginning to wonder if there can be a genetic marker in a certain breed for ADHD–if so Jack Russell is that breed.  My little Gracie is an unstoppable, unflappable, unending spring (literally, she bounces straight in the air like a spring) of energy and, possibly, psychosis.  O.k., so I may not be feeding her handfuls of puppy prescriptions anytime soon, but I may have to invest in some kind of doggie treadmill–if there is such a thing.  I think the only thing my Jack Russell birthday puppy has taught me about thirty is that thirty may be too old for a Jack Russell puppy.  But we will forge forward, my family of dysfunctional fur-babies and I:  Guinness the Neurotic, Gaia the Narcissist, and Gracie the Psychotically Hyper. 

 

 

A 48 HOUR RETROSPECTIVE…

Going backwards in time to 48 hours ago I was not sure what to do or what to think about our sudden family perdicament.  Part of me wanted to cry, part wanted to scream, part wanted to just give up.  Fortunately none of those were a dominant enough part of me to reak unproductive havoc although each part of me had its moment in the last couple of days. 

 

I thought about a thirtieth birthday in a real limbo and spent alone 1200 miles away from my husband and in a state of uncertainty about more than the number 30.  I thought about the potential pressures of getting all the bills paid and the scary prospect of not succeeding.  I thought of aspirations of sitting in a dimly lit room, breathing, learning, and meditating daily falling away as were my plans and hopes for all things related to this October. 

 

Money & Meditation: two completely converse distractions.

 

So, I thought, how could I feel so hopeful Monday and in such desperation by Tuesday.  I realized the only piece I could affect between the two was not the money or the postponed meditation but my perspective, perception, and state of mind.  All these strengths I have been building on the past month or so on this blog finally came to an application head–I needed full forces aligned to find the light in the storm, the brighter side, the inspiration to sing even in the rain. 

 

I thought about how my husband’s job falling through had gave him the final push necessary to actively pursue his masters degree–a very good thing.  I thought about how having the next two months to get our lives in order, the household in order, and actually have some time with my husband when he gets down here in a month was perhaps a bit of a blessing.  I thought about how much all of these trials of reality have brought my marital relationship to its strongest place and taught my husband and I an immense amount about ourselves individually, the other partner, and us collectively.  I thought that while I don’t know how I feel about the phrase, “Everything happens for a reason,”  that I do believe more and more, “We can find reason and purpose in everything that happens.” 

 

The best way to start the week it is with a flower by FL4Y on flickr

 

So I find myself 48 hours later in somewhat of the same state of mind as I was originally.  It took me a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions to get here and an immense amount of support, some unexpectedly beautiful, from friends, family, and coworkers, old and new.  And most important, the mutual support of my husband and I, for each other as well look at each other partner’s respective difficulties within this predicament. 

 

And to give a little bit of melodic sound (if not actual singing) to the storm, my husband called last night saying that he was able to find a dirt cheap flight for Thursday, October 15.  So I guess I will not have to resort to party hats for the fur-kids and dogfood cake for my birthday after all–yes, I contemplated it. 

 

But more than that I realized how touched I was by my husband’s gesture towards me, our relationship, and to the importance of a birthday not spent alone.  I found myself, last night, on the other end of the phone crying tears not of self-pity or anger but of gratitude–no one was more surprised than I at how much it meant to me to have him give such a gift to me and to our relationship. 

 

Those tears were like an emotional prize I had won for getting to where I had without the pitying tears. 

 

Tonight I sit, while somewhat emotionally exhausted, quite bright again.  Not Jack Russell psychotically bright, but optimistic.  And looking forward without trepidation…and counting down the days until I have a two parent team for this dog-full household.

 

All depends on whether you see the glass half full or half empty by FL4Y on flickr`

The pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; the optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.

Winston Churchill

 

Sleeping Cougar by Tambako the Jaguar on flickrSleeping Cougar by Tambako the Jaguar on flickr

 

 

“Ay, there’s the rub.”

 

My old pal Billy said it best.  Billy Shakespeare that is.  We are quite familiar so I call him Billy, but I don’t think he cares for it…artists.  We have been intimately literarily intertwined since I tried, against my and probably his better judgement, to emulate his writing via my 7-year-old diary using a plethora of “thou”‘s and “didst”‘s; I was quite unsuccessful.  But Billy does not hold it against me–I was only seven. 

 

So anyway, back to Bill’s patented phrase from Hamlet stated above.  Sleep is a crucial part of life.  It may be the premise and the predecessor to everything else important, talented, wise, and agile we do during our conscious day.  Without proper sleep we cannot function right on any level or ever feel at full capacity.  I know I am very vulnerable to being way off my game without the proper 7ish hours of sleep and in some kind of cruel irony I have an awful time getting to and staying asleep.  Ay, there’s the rub.

 

Let me give you a little story to demonstrate.  My wonderful and sorely missed husband comes home to visit, as funny as that sounds.  I was overjoyed to have him back in the house, with the family, and in our plushy king-sized bed.  So the first night he is home we all lumber, climb, and hop into bed.  Two humans and two dogs.  Our big dog, Guinness, shoves his way in between my husband and I, sort of spooning my husband and the little dog, Gaia perches herself above my head on the pillow in a cat-like fashion. 

 

One by one everyone falls asleep.  First my husband, then the big dog, and then the tiny one atop my head.  And one by one they begin their nasally symphonic ritual at varying paces and pitches.  My husband’s rumbling sounds like a steamroller and a bear combined with a deep gutteral undertone.  Guinness’s asthmatic-type wheezing has a rolling deep sound like a heavy wind and a drumroll muffled in shallow nasal cavities.  Gaia manages something like a tiny piglet in short, drippy spurts.  And there I lay, first on my right and then on my left, the only one awake.  It is a bit like “Goldilocks and The Three Bears” but without any porridge or sinister metaphors. 

 

We live in a society that provokes us to overconsume, overindulge, overwork, and overinnundate ourselves with all manner of technology.  We catch dinner on the go while texting, listen to our iPods while surfing the net, or even write our blogs while watch “NCIS” (that is, of course, just a for-instance).  

 

I spend much of my time with my clients talking about sleep issues and trying to work on moderating sleep and pre-sleep habits.  Emotional trauma and sufferers from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder are very prone to sleep disturbances, nightmares, and insomnia.  Anecdotally I would venture to say it is the most commonly constant symptom I see in the clients I treat.  It is also something that I think for the above issues of modern society plague everyone to some extent and many people, even those without issues of active PTSD, to detrimental levels.

 

The National Sleep Foundation reports that approximately 40 million American men and women suffer from some sleep disorder.  Also, interestingly enough, more women than men are reported to having sleep issues. 

 

I know I am one of them.  I don’t believe necessarily my sleep issues fit the category of a full disorder, but perhaps I underestimate them.  Maybe they do.  Either way I feel consistently guilty when I sit in session with my clients touting the value of sleep and the necessary work that we must do in the time before we fall asleep to up our chances of getting quality rest while at the same time I serve as the stereotype for the antithesis of sleep health.

 

SLEEPY-TIME DO’S AND DONT’S :  TERESA STYLE (Preaching vs. Practicing)

 

  • You really should work yourself towards sleep at night by doing calming, soothing activities that involve less stimulation and more relaxation.  Things I often recommend to my clients are a variety of yoga poses, breathwork, relaxation exercises, visualization exercises, and/or light meditation techniques. 

 

  • I practice… working on my computer until my final moments before sleep and then plopping into my bed, laying down and wondering why I am not restful. 

 

  • You should be able to create a relaxing sleep environment and enter your sleep area prior to any attempt to sleep.  You should get settled in your sleep area and do something that will further get you comfortable in your surroundings.  I often recommend things like low lighting, maybe a cup of caffeine-free tea or a glass of warm milk, and if any sound is necessary just soothing music playing softly.  I recommend if at all possible to avoid any television for 30 minutes-1 hour prior to attempting sleep–the inundation of noise, flashes of images, and depending on what the programming, a potential for violence or negative images and information.

 

  • I practice… rushing to get the dogs settled.  We all plop into bed.  Then I turn on the television.

 

 

So, in truth, I am my own worst enemy when it comes to restfulness and sleep.  As yoga schooling creeps closer and the prospects of 6am meditation three towns away 7 days a week looms over me I know I have to change something, drastically and quickly–but of course in a soothing and restful manner.  A bit of a paradox I know but what can I say, I have procrastinated on restfulness.  I am vowing, as publically as I know how to invest in a true application of my tools I dole out daily.  I will practice what I preach.  I will practice a soothing bedtime ritual.  I will also, I’m no fool, invest in some hearty earplugs for the snorry-est of the nights.  I don’t think nasal symphony qualifies as soothing music–at least not to my sensitive eardrums.

 

 

We are such stuff

As dreams are made on, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep.

William Shakespeare,  “The Tempest”

 

 

Mother hippo and calf by Tambako the Jaguar on flickrMother Hippo and Calf by Tambako the Jaguar on flickr

underwater yoga by megan is me on flickrLearning to Swim

 

My lovely grandparents-in-law (is that a possible moniker?) allowed me to come over to their lovely backyard pool today, dogs in tow.  I was in desperate need of a geographic change after a week spent organizing, unboxing, and lugging everything and anything I own around the new house.  I was exhausted and testy; the dogs were spastic and antsy.  We needed a day of rest.  It was lovely.  Truly.

 

My husband’s grandparents are sweet, endearing people; his grandmother made me a plate of cheese, grapes, and crackers and his grandfather gave me dog care advice then they quickly retreated indoors to escape the heat and, I am certain, my over energized pups. 

 

The change of scenery was a starting point, a was finally absorbing some of the rich Florida sun and imbibing vibrant blue skies speckled with tufts of white but what really took me to another realm was the pool.  I have been what my mother lovingly titled “a fish” since I was old enough to walk and paddle through the shallow end of one public pool or another. 

 

I love the water.  I love to swim.  More than anything I adore the feeling of rocketing through deep waters, completely submerged, reaching for the rough cement floor, hearing nothing but the sound of limbs pushing through chlorine aqua and my own heartbeat.  It dives me into a silent internal peace that is akin to what I feel in the practice of yoga.  I feel in tune and rhythm with my body; swimming is like an aquatic dance of the body working in synchronicity with itself to create powerful motion.  Swimming to me is like flying; it makes me feel like I am transformed into something beyond human, something greater than myself. 

 

Yoga gives me a sense similar to that.  I feel in tune and a part of my surroundings in the water; the water and I are part of a large collective organism, working together.  With yoga I feel the fluidity of myself and the air around me, the ground below me; it holds me up and propels me from one pose to the next.  The two practices to me are moving arts and they take me to somewhere beyond me as an independent being. 

 

But I digress.  The day was just what was prescribed for all.  It was a feast for my senses and sun therapy to boot.  I read Julie & Julia (still avoiding reading my required texts for yoga school and beginning to feel the anxiety of a procrastinating delinquent) as I waded in the shallow end, putting it down every so often to swim laps back and forth from shallow to deep water. 

 

My big dog, Guinness, stalked  my every move like he was a hungry lion and I aquatic prey.  He followed every stroke and stared at me intently as I dove under and emerged again half way down the pool, longing to jump in but fearful to dive as he is still learning to swim.  The little one, Gaia, splashed and jumped in, swimming for her toy and then paddling frantically to the pool stairs.  She is definitely the bolder of the two of them, although their appearances deceptively mislead everyone into assuming the reverse. 

 

Completion of the day leaves me sufficiently tanned and satiated by the natural gifts of Florida life; the dogs are sufficiently exhausted and collapsed on their respective doggie beds.  I am also feeling acclimated and rejuvenated enough to brave my first Floridian yoga class tomorrow.  I am going to pick one of the few local studios and just dive in, having no option as of yet for home yoga as my husband, I have discovered, is holding my mat hostage in the great chilly north. 

 

So I revel in the new aquatic opportunities, both oceanic and chlorine-full, of this great warm state.  I am adjusting to the idea of year round warmth, year round sun, and year round access to cool waters to both lose and find myself in, in the best way: mind, body, soul.  Yoga & swimming–I could get used to this place.

 

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.

 

e.e. cummings

 

*Found this program Yoga Afloat online that is a certification to become a teacher of water yoga; specifically created by the inventor for her chronic pain illness, something I know well and a lovely concept.  I believe I am going to explore this aquatic yoga hybrid some more.*

Florida Family Vacation by skookum on flickr“florida family vacation” by skookum on flickr

 

My new home has afforded me three lizard encounters thus far.  The first was a bit intimate as there is a shower lizard that may or may not live in the shower drain that likes to languish and leer whilst I shower–he’s all eyes that one.  The second encounter was of the morbid kind as I picked up a box off of my ikea buffet in the entry area of the house to find a  black lizard who must have been unlucky enough to have been wedged under the box.  Soon after I lifted the box, made a pitiable squeal of surprise, and called my sister over, the poor thing went to lizard heaven (presumably full of bushy palms and a neverending supply of tiny insects for consumption) and we had to, eek, flush him down the toilet.  I can only hope the shower lizard did not have to encounter him on his way down. 

 

The third lizard was in our spare bedroom/doggie cage room and he was just meandering across the bottom of the wall–I think even the lizards move at a slower pace in Florida.  Needless to say I am on lizard alert, not sure where the next one will appear.  It is both an endearing and equally unnerving element of my new home environment.   I love lizards, I really do but I never expected to share the inside of my home with them, at least barring a beach bungalow life in Thailand or Nicaragua (two favorite vacation spots of mine which have geckos and lizards on every wall of every room). 

 

The amphibian element is only one piece of my adjustment to life in the Sunshine State.  The unprovoked acts of friendliness are another element and I have to recalibrate my Jersey-induced public prickliness to a more sunny and unsuspicious disposition.  A woman was standing behind me on line at Home Goods last night and asked where I was going to put the lovely lamp I was purchasing.  I jolted upright and fumbled, confused, for a reply.  After an awkwardly long pause, and her beginning to eye me curiously, I finally answered quickly that I would be using it in my entryway and walked out of the store hoping I had feigned-Florida well enough.  I can recall this piece of transition from my move to Colorado years  back and I know it takes some time but I have confidence that soon I will smile not flinch when someone speaks to me unprovoked and kindly in public arenas. 

 

Another transition piece that I have yet to get fully accustomed to is my newly hairless pooch.  Yes, I have shaved my little dog to a fully naked but not quite profane state.  She has transformed from looking like a miniature beagle with a pug/squirrel tail to looking something like a mini Jack Russel Terrier with a possum tail (see below).  I found very quickly that Florida is just too hot a state for a long haired tiny dog.  She was panting like crazy and shedding like mad with such a fury that three days into the move I decided that the hair just had to go.  She seems somewhat confused but overall pleased with her new do, or lack of a “do”. 

 

Hairless Doggie

 

On the whole we are a household a bit confused and fumbling.  Last night the bed was me plus two dogs and thank god we got the king-sized bed before the move as it was cramped even with all the space.  All three of us were twitchy and hyperalert the whole night long, jolting up at every strange noise.  Around 2 a.m. the rumbling thunder came in with force and was so close and roaring I could feel it in my gut.  A family divided by space and states I find myself languishing a bit in my own solitude as I fumble through the nuances and confusions of new geography alone.  At least, I think to myself, I have the dogs and the lizards to keep me company. 

 

In the quiet of an empty house, as I find myself more and more talking in full conversations with my dogs, pausing and intuiting their replies before I continue on with the dialogue, I know these are the moments in which quiet contemplation and a focus on inner calm is the most necessary.  I know that these are the times for which I prescribe such measures for my clients; in periods of uncertainty, restlessness, sadness, fear, and general discontentedness.  Just breathe, I tell them and then I progress forward in teaching them how.  I know I must remember these tools for myself and I must focus on self-care. 

 

Just breathe.  I will repeat this mantra and work for inner meditative peace and search with a bit of urgency for my yoga mat that I know is packed somewhere in the few remaining boxes.  I yearn desperately for the peace of fluidity in silence and breath.  And if I don’t find that stinking mat by tomorrow I’ll just have to go find a new one.  Perhaps even find a local class with my fun new iphone “YogaNow” application.  It is what I purchased it for; when I was fumbling, lost and confused…in search of a collective namaste kind of moment.  I think that time is soon nearing.

  

Smile, breathe and go slowly.                                         Thich Nhat Hanh

 

ocean colour scene #3 by macca on flickr

“ocean colour scene #3” by macca on flickr

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