travel

A Few Drams on Raasay and a quick hello to Skye: Scotland Reflections Part 5

Onward west we ventured. A spectacular drive from the Glencoe region toward the Isle of Skye brought us to Eilean Donan Castle, which sits at a meeting point between three lochs. This restored castle was one of the most frequently found instagram tags when I began researching our itinerary. Generally, we find ourselves going in the opposite directions of the most trendy stops, however this spot has some well deserved clout.

While this castle stood in ruin for the better part of the last few centuries, it was purchased by Lt John McCrae in 1911 and lovingly restored based on surviving ground plans from it’s long history. The island of Donan, where the current structure sits, dates back to the 6th century where a chapel was believed to originally reside. In the 12th century (or so) the first castle was erected, by the late 13th century the castle held by the Mackenzies, and in the 14th century the MaCrae’s garrison on and off on behalf of the Mackenzie chiefs. In the 1700s, 300 spanish troups resided in the castle after landing in support of the Jacobites. This lead to the government of the time taking the castle down to ruins, which is how it sat until Lt John MaCrae and his subsequent decendants began the journey to restoration. Today it sits as a living museum to times past and has been used in numerous films. This was a well invested admittance fee!

After our break touring the castle and grounds, we continued west over to the Isle of Skye to await our first ferry of the trip.

Let me tell you how much I stressed about ferry trips. Once we landed in Scotland, and began feeling out the nature of some of the planned on trips on ferries, we actually rearranged a big chunk of our trip to avoid a few crossings due to local news and unpredictable seasonal weather. In the long run, I was so glad we did this. And, our first trip – just 25min from Skye to the Isle of Raasay (Island of the Red Deer)- was quite seamless, much anticipatory stress aside.

Because we arrived obnoxiously early for our ferry (see above anxiety), we had time for a mystical little hike in the Skeabost Bridge area of Isle of Skye. There is a rumour in the area that if you place your face in the icy cold waters of the stream here you will be granted timeless beauty. Neither of us felt the need to do this, but we did enjoy the fairy realm like scenery, rainbows and crisp fresh air nonetheless.

After our short ferry ride that evening we arrived on the Isle of Raasay. We had booked a stay at the Raasay Distillery, a new and modern whisky and gin distillery on a very small island. One of our higher investment stays of the trip, Raasay was well worth it. The distillery hosts a very small Inn onsite, all modern and well attended by excellent staff. We were greeted with a few drams, set up in our room upstairs (which came with a bottle of complimentary Whisky) and then left to watch the moon rise over the mountains visible across the way on Skye while enjoying a few more drams before dinner in the Distillery’s restaurant (as award winning as the Distillery itself). The whisky, food and company was wonderful and I remember sleeping very well that night!

The next morning we awoke to breakfast in the hotel while watching a whale surf through the bay and then a distillery tour. This is where we began to appreciate Scottish gin is often just as good as their whisky. We also were impressed to hear about how this Distillery is working to revive the island’s way of life within their growth. The Raasay Distillery employs about 30% of the island’s population, with priority placed on hiring those who have roots in the Island and either already reside there or were willing to move back. They source their water from a well on the island that is supplied by rain water, and source everything else they possibly can on the island or as immediately locally as possible. Beyond this, they also return their used bran back to local farmers to use for livestock feed at no cost to the farmer other than picking up.

After this enlightening tour, we were tasked with waiting for our ferry back to Skye. Slightly more relaxed this time, we visited a Pictish Stone that sits on the Isle of Raasay.

Once back on Skye we drove towards Portree (pronounced Port Rhyee) and decided (aka Garrett decided, I was a little too hungover to argue) to hike up to Old Man of Storr. It was a big of a push up on the steady incline to some well worth it views.

We lucked into dinner in Portree shortly after (as it turns out, Portree is definitely a town to make reservations in advance in.. even in the shoulder season, we had to do quite a bit of maneuvering and lean on some luck to find a place to take us for dinner) and then found our airbnb to settle in for the evening. We wound down watching the moon rise again over the rolling, dark hills in our part of Skye.

That night I dreamt I was a time traveller. I was looking at some pretty silver rings with celtic designed carved into them. As I put one onto my finger, there was a big flash of light and I woke up to our next day on Skye.

We took a back road, mountain pass across the island to Bog Myrtle Cafe – a delightful aesthetic of vintage books, art and furniture with strong espresso. After breakfast we continued up the coast line to the Fairy Glen for a walkabout (another well versed spot on the instagram tourist plugs). From here we continued onwards up to Duntulm Castle ruins that watch over the sea. The monument to this castle reads: “the world may end, but music and love endure”. What a message to stumble on at what feels like the edge of a world.

Continuing down the coast from this tip of Skye we wandered Brothers Point before finding our next dinner stop, “Old School Restaurant”, the name describes the venue. The dinner service was wonderful, with a big old wood stove to warm us up.

While I was glad we included Skye on our visit, having been there I’m not sure I would stress about going back. It is certainly one of THE destinations for most tourists in Scotland, and though we were there in shoulder season so likely dodged the bulk of congestion, the area to me felt fatigued. Mystical and wonderful, and yet somehow tired. I wrote lots about feeling tired, excessively so, while there. Was that a dram too many at the distillery that kicked off our stay in the area? Perhaps. Could it also have been an area well worn by tourists boots and the clicks of cameras?

This may not click with all who read this, but as someone who is becoming attuned to the whispers of land across many timelines, Skye was an interesting place to be received but almost in a despondent way. I’ve been to places that hold a tune of “thank goodness you came to visit” enthusiam, and with the grain of salt that may be a mild hangover after the chest cold that came with Edinburgh, Skye seemed to say “thanks for stopping by but I’m really a bit busy” with the door already half closed. This isn’t to say anything negative about the hospitality to be found on the island, more to speak to the energy of the landscapes we found ourself wandering through.

I was glad to have been and ready to leave. From Skye we began our trip further up the west coast, to a land more rugged and almost alien in it’s scenery. Think purple skies, molten rocks, pink beaches, untamed orange grasses and rogue sheep. More on that next time.

Portals and Fairy Bridges: Scotland Reflections Part 4

Finally, we began to venture into the highlands. We drove out of the rainy weather of the lower east coast and headed west (ish) towards our next stay in Onich, a village in the Glencoe area. On the way there we took our first winding, captivating path through the Ciarngorms. We took a pitstop at the Glenlivet Estate Distillery (they have very nice bathrooms, highly recommend), and visited the Old Glenlivet Bridge.

We stopped for lunch in Aviemore, which was very resonant to Canadian Banff. A cute, touristy mountain town built around the popular tourist destinations throughout the Cairngorm mountains.

I took us to Loch An Eilein (after some disagreements on google map navigation). Loch an Eilein is the ruins of a 13th century castle located on an island. To find the castle, you take a mystical walk through the old pines in the forest of Rothiemurchus. As we wandered through the forest it was easy to feel like you were transported in time. Garrett hypothesized what it would be like to defend yourself if you were being pursued on foot through the forest paths. The vividness in his descriptions and scenarios were such that I could imagine that he was working off past life memories more than just hypothetical ideas.

Once again, we were blessed with having the forest largely to ourselves and a few other quiet visitors. This was one of the first stops where I felt less like a tourist and more like someone returning to a moment in time I’d perhaps seen before.

The ruins date back to the 1200s, though it’s not clear exactly who first erected a structure on the island. It is believed that in the 1200s the Bishop of Moray built a house and defensive wall. In the 1300s the Wolf of Badenoch, also known as Alexander Stewart – the younger son of King Robert of Scotland and grandson of Robert the Bruce, created a fortified hunting lodge on the site. At one point there would have been a causeway that connected the castle to the shore, though this is now submerged. The defeated Jacobites took over this castle in the late 1600s after the battle of Cromdale. Another note from history, in the 1700s, after the battle of Culloden, the widow of the 5th Laird of Gordon sheltered fugitives. In more recent history, the Grant lairds have protected the island for it’s known Osprey nesting grounds.

From here we continued on our winding path through the mountains to find our airbnb in Onich. Unfortuantely, our airbnb appeared to be not as described and a little human trafficky feeling, so we found an alternative accomodation at a nearby lakeside hotel.

As we settled in for the evening and took in our picture perfect surroundings I was struck by the timelessness of the scenery. It seemed simultaneously impossible to imagine but also completely embodied to remember what it would be like to look over the mountains from different points in known history.

The next morning after a wonderful buffet breakfast at our new hotel we took a drive to find the Fairy Bridge. This mystical foot bridge is tucked into the forest along a near forgotten foot path in the mountains. Thank you to some coordinates found somewhere on the internet, likely Atlas Obscura, we found an entrance point and wandered into the forest to see what might be there. To add to the blood pressure of those who aren’t used to my fuck around and find out travel methods, we also had no cell service.

A short uphill stumble through the forest led us relatively quickly to a bridge that very much appeared to be a portal to a fairy realm.

Yes, of course we crossed it. And, I think we made it back.

If you listen closely, you can hear the voices of history.

If you walk carefully, you may find yourself lost in moments between time.

There are portals all around us, waiting for us to remember.

Look softly and you may just see beyond what you think you know.

KH, 2023

From the fairy bridge we drove towards Lochleven and took a short hike to Grey Mare Falls, and then drove a bit the other direction to see the Glenfinnan Viaduct. Due to our nature of not wanting to pay an insane amount for a few minutes of parking at this popular Harry Potter destination, we didn’t actually end up seeing the Viaduct in protest. Instead we took a walk around the surrounding village, visited an old church overlooking the lake and then found a pub in Fort William for dinner.

Throughout our day, we had been hearing Elk or Red Deer calls over the hills. Even once seeing a Red Deer walking along a ridge from a distance. Over the day and days to follow, I was notable seeing “ghost” dear in the trees out the corners of my eyes. Never there when I looked directly. In folk legend, the red deer are believed to represent the “little people” in Celtic traditions. Perhaps we did venture into a fairy realm over that bridge.

Once back at our hotel for the second and final night in this area, we enjoyed a glass of whisky while editing photos and then played fooseball in the hotel lounge. A long stare at the stars over the lake took us to bed. Our next leg of the journey would take us further west towards our next stop on the Isle of Skye. Stay tuned for the next installment.

Peacock Herb, Findlater Castle and Cullen Skink: Scotland Reflections Part 3

Returning to this series after a busy week away teaching in western Saskatchewan. This part of our journey along the east coast and into the Highlands was pursued and directed by Storm Babet. Luckily, we only met the edges of this system on our routes, staying about a day ahead of it.

As Babet began to pick up speed and roll into the east coast, we took advantage of the morning to head from our cozy inland airbnb back to the coast to find the ruins of Findlater Castle. The wind coming off the North Sea was no joke. Google maps led us to a parking lot that seemed to be shared with a local cattle farmer’s yard just up the coast near Sandsend. From the barnside parking place, google told us to walk across a field towards the sea. Luckily I have my husband somewhat conditioned to wandering into the abyss based off atlas obscura coordinates at this point in our relationship (though, he doesn’t always adapt his footwear choices appropriately, but that’s for another post) so off into the nearing hurricane force wind we went.

After a brisk walk to the coast, we found what we were looking for. I was talked out of my intentions of hiking further towards the ruins on the cliffside, as a mist was beginning to join the wind and make the narrow, unofficial trails down to the remains for the 14th century stronghold a little sketchy.

Outside of Edinburgh Castle, this was our first castle stop on our journey. Also our first ruins. The current ruins are believed to be a 14th century rendition on top of 13th century foundations. The location and the set up of the castle offer a very game of throne-esque picture of what it may have looked like hundreds of years in the past. All that remains is lower levels of the castle built into the side of a cliff, facing the North Sea and resisting the relentless wind and waves washing down the east coast.

As with much of the coastal ruins of Scotland, the history of Findlater is believed to be rooted as far back as Viking raids and Pictish rulers. The history throughout Scotland but especially throughout the east coast seems to be rife with brutal take overs, familial betrayal and political jousting. It’s believed that the original 13th century structure was built to prepare for a Norwegian invasion, afterwhich the Norwegians held the castle for a short period. Sometime in the 14th century the Ogilvy family rebuilt, allegedly with the Laird’s intention to imprison his father in the cellar in order to continue an affair with his mother in law (says wikipedia anyway). The mother in this story eventually married a Gordon, who promptly took hold of the castle and imprisoned the mother. Mary Queen of Scots tried to get involved at one point to eject Gordon, during this 16th century drama, but it’s unclear as to if this was successful or not. The castle fell into disrepair in the 17th century as a new home was built for the earldom in nearby Cullen.

The history and the scenery very much spoke to energy of dissolution and bereavement that seem to be transmitted by these lonely ruins on the cliff. Standing in the wind and the mist, listening to the waves crash and feeling the dampness leach into my skeleton it isn’t hard to imagine tales of familial betrayal, violent seige and eventual abandonment. The dark edges of human nature seem to reside in this aesthetic, not necessarily in a way that feels haunting, simply in a starkness you cannot manufacture. It’s title, “Findlater”, translating from Norse roots “white cliff”, speaks also to that sense of being a little forgotten I seemed to feel as I looked over the ruins.

After finding Findlater we drove a little further up the coast to Bow Fiddle Rock. The wind was continuously picking up making for some pretty amazing demonstrations from mother nature around this natural rock formation in the sea.

After spending a little time marveling at the views, we headed back towards where we came from, driving along the coast through the historic town of Cullen, allegedly where the famous Cullen Skink soup is said to have originated. The town has roots back to the 12th century, likely even earlier. It is said that somewhere in the hills surrounding the town three kings are buried from a battle in 962. A Dane, a Scot and a Norwegian marked by three isolated rocks.

Robert the Bruce founded the church in the village in the 14th century and it’s rumoured that the organs of his wife were buried in the chapel. The town has an impressive viaduct built in the late 1800s for railway operations that still stands today.

We had a quick lunch and got out of the rain in a local cafe. This was the perfect place to sample Cullen Skink, which we seem to have gotten the last bowl of (much to a local late lunch goer’s annoyance). In the environment of a chilly, old, coastal fishing village, a soup like Cullen Skink, a smoked fish chowder, makes a lot of sense. I personally wasn’t sad I tried it, as it did the trick to warm the bones up on that day, nor was I disappointed at never needing to have it again afterwards. After grabbing some snacks we hurried back to our cozy airbnb and got the fire place roaring, as Storm Babet settled in for the afternoon. A perfect afternoon to be settled with some tea on the couch, listening to wind howl outside. I was getting over a pretty nasty chest infection (thanks Edinburgh) at this point, and was thankful for an easy afternoon of rest to make use of.

That night I dreamt of a flowering herb that appeared with vibrant blue/purple flowers in a narrow fan shape. The whole plant seemed to spread out like a peacock’s tail, and in the dream it was being called “the peacock herb”. When I woke up, I was thinking about blue vervain, a herb I was beginning to know more and more about in my herbalism explorations, and a herb certainly sacred to the land I was in. I’m not sure about it’s links to peacocks, though I have found some sources that link Vervain to being a home for the larvae of the peacock butterfly. Much of Blue Vervain’s lore has roots into druidic times. It was used as a temple herb in Greek, Celtic and Roman temples. This plant has very much pursued me as I work through my herbalism apprenticeship. It is one of the first herbs I remember being curious about, though not much information was found early on. As I’ve reached the end of my formal apprenticeship, it has become a herb I use quite often, and one that works with me in the dream space frequently- appearing with nudges for both myself and for clients.

Egyptians believed that Vervain was created from the tears of Isis. Christian lore links it as the plant used to dress the wounds of Jesus after his crucifixion, and by the 16th century in apothecaries across Europe it was used for ailment after ailment. My intention is to create more herb specific posts on here soon, so I’ll save the bulk of Vervain’s written history for that perhaps.

Waking from a dream with vervain top of mind just added to my desire to connect to the land of my ancestry while exploring my present day identity. Waking that morning the wind still howled and the rain was falling. We had a breakfast made by our host, packed up and headed west to the next leg of our journey: Glencoe.

More on that next week, I need to get at my herbalism thesis with rest of my morning!

Tidal Graves and the Eyes of Dunino Den: Scotland Reflections Part 2

After a few days in Edinburgh we were ready to move onwards. We picked up our rental car and headed North to Torryburn Beach. It took a while, but we eventually found what I was looking for: the grave of Lilias Adie.

Lilias Adie, a woman in her sixties, was accused of consorting with the devil in the early 1700s. She was imprisoned under the crime of witchcraft, tortured and interrogated until she eventually confessed. She passed away in prison before she could be executed for witchcraft. She is one of only women accused of witchcraft with a gravesite, as most were burned. The village feared she may rise from the dead, so they buried her in a wooden box between the low and high tide markers on Torryburn Beach. They covered her burial site with a massive stone slab. In 2019 her gravesite was relocated using original documents from the village church that led her persecution. Unfortunately, prior to this rediscovery, her remains had been stolen by grave robbers in the late 1800s. Her skull ended up in a private museum in 1875, then went to the University of St Andrews before going missing yet again. To this day, her skull remains missing.

I’m not sure even in reflection I have the words for the sensations I was aware of while looking out over the tide. I think I was already becoming aware of a dissonance between wanting to seek out the past; to know more about my ancestry, the history of women, the history of a land my gene pool came from.. juxtaposed with the realization of how much gets lost to history. Lilias Adie’s story is known from the words written about her during her imprisonment and trial, by her accusers and persecutors. Likewise for many of the women who were tried and burned at the stake. Likewise for much of my ancestors. The reasons why they left where they were blending in with historical reasoning but not much personal record. The past remains a mystery, and perhaps that is as it should be.

Yet, standing looking out over the murky grave of Lilias, there is no choice but to remember even that which cannot be known. The fear she may rise from the dead has long passed, and now there is a hope that she will to share her story.

Garrett eventually dragged me away from staring into the abyss as the tides rose, and after grabbing some lunch in a nearby village we headed East to Dunino Den.

Tucked behind a 17th century church and graveyard and down a short path into the woods, the entrance to Dunino Den is guarded by the remains of a sacred well. The well appears to me as a watchful eye. Just to the left of the earthly observer and sacred waters is a staircase etched into the steps of the stone embankment, leading down into the den.

I’m not sure I had ever experienced such a palpable shift in energy as what we experienced descending into the ancient sacred site. The gentle forest sounds that existed as we stood at the well disappeared as we descended. Suspended silence took over. It truly and vividly was an experience of stepping to a place outside of time itself.

We were lucky enough to be the only human visitors present at the time, though it certainly did not feel like we were alone. The stone banks were full of various carvings, some very very old and some new. Faces, symbols, words, hand prints and offerings of coins, cloth and trinkets are scattered everywhere. Dunino Den has been dated back as a site in use as far back as Pictish times, and likely earlier than that. Standing looking around the “den” on the bank of a gently flowing creek I felt all at once welcomed back to a place I’d known in some lifetime and bombarded by watchful eyes of beings beyond what is known. Nothing malevolent, but observant nonetheless.

Dunino Den is believed to have been used as a ceremonial site for as far back as it can be dated. The nearby “modern” church and graveyard contains a large, neolithic age standing stone. This is a rare place where modern day religion existed without destroying more ancient spiritual grounds.

We stood in the Den as long as we were permitted to. There was a very clear moment where we were nudged to continue on. The sacred silence we were suspended in as we took in the grove was lifted and with thanks we headed back up the narrow stone steps, past the sacred pool and back towards our current timeline.

“In a direct and obvious sense, the past never leaves us, it is embedded in the present, is veined through our beliefs, our diet, our traditions, our way of moving through the landscape and much else.”

Alistair Moffat, The Hidden Ways

As we walked back through whatever veil seems to gently guard this sacred place, I was reminded that though many things are lost to written history, there is always opportunities to remember when we sit into non-linear ways of receiving information. As has happened to me more than a few times now visiting the “old world”, places other than my place of birth, our feet sometimes fall on paths we’ve walked in other lifetimes.

From here we drove upwards on the East coast to our home base for a few days near Turiff. The woodstove was lit for us when we arrived, and as Storm Babet was starting to howl on the horizon and so we made our place for the night.

More to come soon.

On the backs of dragons: Scotland Reflections 1, Edinburgh

As spring arrives I am in some ways still steeping in the intensity of last year: one of my busiest professional years yet, getting married in September and then spending a month overseas in Scotland on our honeymoon.

I’ve always found that travel is best processed in hindsight. All the experiences over the year, culminating in our travel in the fall, very much seem to have neatly encapsulated a transition point in my life. Perhaps a writing exercise for another time, or over this series of reflections, is my own ongoing embodiment of that transition. I haven’t quite found my language for it yet. I remember when I first tried on my wedding dress, there was a surprising feeling of not recognizing myself. Seeing instead who I was becoming, and what embodiment I was just stepping into.

That feeling continued as I moved through the year leading up to our wedding. In some ways I linked it to an initiation of sorts. To what, I’m not sure. There’s a level of maiden in many ways I stepped out of, but I don’t quite identify with the traditional “mother” phase heading towards crone in common spiritual language. What replaces mother in modern day life when “mothering” isn’t the calling?

Even now, as I work on my herbalism thesis (which I should be working on now, but when creativity calls, it calls), which focuses on integrative herbalism in the treatment of modern day cyclical health (women’s health); I am faced with that same question. For those of us who are consciously choosing to not have children, existing within a healthcare and wellness care system that hinge fertility as the deciding factor around health, much of the time, how do we support vitality while linking a woman’s value to more than just their ability to bear life into the world?

Around this same time, in the midst of wedding planning and facing all the micro transitions along the way to our wedding, we began to figure out where we wanted to travel to afterwards. Both G and I have always been interested in Scotland, and it was in with a few other options for our honeymoon. For me, Scotland has many ancestral ties. I knew whenever I did get there, there would be many explorations in real time as well as otherwise that would occur. In hindsight, it seems more and more appropriate that the energetic “homing beacon” began to chime in as this being where we headed to on our first trip as a married couple.

Our first stop on our trip was Edinburgh. It was a relatively short flight across the pond from Toronto, and after a brisk jog through the Toronto airport due to a delayed incoming flight – we settled into the overseas flight. As I tried to sleep, I was washed over with memories of my maternal grandparents. Specifically, the home of theirs that I spent lots of time at. Memories of summers spent in the back yard, with cousins, running through the garden. The feeling of running through the corn in the garden. Picking peas and carrots. The smell of their garage. I wondered if my grandparents had ever explored some of the territory I was about to explore. I had the sense they were along for the ride with me. Likewise with my paternal grandparents. What ancestral memories would I find, and what questions would I answer? I also had the sense that this was firmly my journey. I remember thinking, I am creating my own memories on the foundations of the past. Perhaps it was the half asleep and already sleep deprived vision taking hold, but as we approached EDI in the very early hours of the morning, it appeared to me that there were black dragons flying alongside our plane. Some guides for the journey ahead, perhaps.

We landed at 6:30am on Oct 17th. Our first orders of business were cappuccinos in an airport cafe while setting up our SIM in my phone and getting a handle on the bus system that we’d be using while in Edinburgh for a couple days. We took our first double decker bus from the airport to our BNB, which was just outside of the downtown area of EDI. Our hosts were gracious enough to let us move in that morning, the day of our check in, and even insisted on cooking us breakfast. Much appreciated way to start our first day. In a brave attempt to mitigate the worst of the time change, we had a strong intention to use the day to explore the city and stay awake. Which, we did indeed. Another bus, and 17,000 steps later we had seen much of Old Town on our first day. As we stepped off our bus into the city centre on Princes Street, facing the gardens with Edinburgh Castle looking down at us from the top of the city, it was one of a handful of experiences I’ve had of my breath being taken away completely.

Edinburgh is a very aesthetically pleasing city. Old town has been essentially the same for a few centuries now, and runs from the coast up the molten rock hill to peak with the castle at the highest point. New town has been essentially the same for the last couple centuries, and sits below Old Town. Remove the cars and street lights, and you could very easily be standing in the 1700 or 1800s. Though, a thought I had many times while we were in the city, the air quality may have been significantly worse back then. At one point, Edinburgh was considered Europe’s most population dense city. Multiple-story buildings were common in the 16th century and by the 18th century, buildings on High Street were often six to ten stories tall and could reach up to 14 stories towards the back where the land sloped down. The city was supplied with water via street level wells from the 16th century to the early 19th century, when slowly more modern plumbing became possible. Those living on higher floors (usually the wealthy), had to hire water caddies to trek water up the stairs until late 19th century. In 1797, the “Nastiness” Act was passed, which prohibited the tossing of waste out windows during daytime hours. Sanitation was a major issue in Old Town, along the Royal mile, until the late 19th century at least. Edinburgh would have been breathtaking for different reasons until very recent history.

We took in much of the Royal Mile on our first day, breaking in our travel legs well. We visited Greyfriar’s Kirk Graveyard (featuring many Harry Potter film graves, and much history) where G was shadowed by what seemed like a spirit dog. Perhap Greyfriar’s Bobby himself. We wandered up Victoria Street, the inspiration for Diagon Alley, popped into Napier’s, a herbal store that has been around since 1860, and then trekked back up the Royal Mile to the castle.

Along the way I found The Witch’s Fountain, tucked around the corner from the busy thoroughfare at the entrance to Edinburgh Castle. You have to know where to look to find this somewhat controversial monument, luckily I had done some research prior to our trip so I did know how to find it.

The Witch’s Fountain was created to remember the many women who were accused, tortured and convicted (commonly without fair trial), and publicaly executed for “witchcraft” – a label of convenience as we now know. The controversy behind this memorial is in the wording. The language on the plaque implies that the women being remembered were guilty, which as modern history shows, was never proven. The assumption that the women accused and forced to bear a horrible end to their lives, and the long history of persecution in other ways since, risks perpetuating harmful rhetoric. The debate, I suppose, is if remembering is still more valuable than forgetting.

By the end of our explorations on this first day, we were both nearly delirious from sleep deprivation. We somehow managed to find some fish and chips on our way back to our bnb, before hitting our bed pretty hard for a good night’s sleep.

On our second day, we woke up to a lovely view from our bedroom window of the mist rising up over Arthur’s Seat after a 12hr sleep. With our coherency restored, and a little in need of a break from the congestion of city central, we took the bus out to the coast and found Portobello Beach. We grabbed a couple flat whites at a beachside cafe, and walked the beach in low tide. I spent most of that time finding stones and shells in the sand. The whole vibe reminded me of a book from childhood, Kate’s Castle. Here I was creating a realtime adventure in a land full of history and adventure, little imagination needed. With some time to spare, we continued walking along the beach, before finding a bus to catch over to a nearby neighbourhood that housed the Royal Yacht Britannia. After finding it behind a paywall, we decided to carry on back to Old Town where we had a tour of the underground vaults to take in.

Edinburgh didn’t only grow upwards, it also expanded underground. Largely due to lack of real estate, underground bridges and vaults were created. At first for businesses such as taverns, cobblers and storage centres. This relatively quickly devolved into low-no income living situation and illegal business. The vaults are as you’d imagine, dark, cave like carve outs in the rock foundations of the city. We toured the South Bridge Vaults, completed in 1788. Rumours suggest that during the illegal use era you could find rebel distilleries, bodysnatchers storing their latest digs (steeling bodies from graves to sell to researchers was a common, and lucrative, practice in the 18th-19th centuries as medical research grew but religious institutions outlawed studies on cadavers), and many unfortunate families making home in small caverns. Ventilation would have been non-existent and air quality just as bad if not worse as above ground. By the 1860s the vaults were believed to be emptied, though they were not discovered until the 1980s during excavation for building updates above ground. Now they are largely tourist attractions.

To cap off our final day in EDI, we found a bite to eat in Old Town before making our way back to our BNB and preparing to leave the city the next morning.

As awestruck as I was at first in EDI, I left feeling ready to leave. I was struck by what would have frankly been a horrible place to live historically, as magical as it seems today. Perhaps that lived experience was a past life experience I’ve had, as I couldn’t seem to separate the past from the present. As I began to steep myself in the history of my bloodlines, the idea of being faced with leaving rural settlements as the elite cleared space for sheep and given the option of city centres like EDI or getting on a ship, it was an interesting reflection as to what would be more appealing. Edinburgh is full of history, a centre of amazing scientific and medical progress, the inspiration for much creative works and novel thinking – and yet, I sensed so much turmoil, congestion and heaviness in the air still. I’m glad we went, and I was glad to turn our gaze towards route out.

More to come.

Contentment: A Contrast

I missed my New Years post this year. The truth is I wasn’t quite sure how to write it. This year has brought more evolutions than one shift in calendar years can reflect. I suppose that it reflects the turning of a century more than ever.

Last I wrote I spoke to creating space for things to unfold. Space was created across the board and my awareness was heightened to all areas where I was off kilter. I often feel as though one speaking to their own maturity discredits that maturity- however I have felt new stability and maturity enter into all my reactions, decisions and consistencies since allowing space to simply be.

In the fall of 2019 we booked a trip to New Zealand for which we depart in a few weeks. About a decade ago, a ticket booked to New Zealand started this blog. The contrast I am finding between who I was on that first trip in 2011 to New Zealand, a totally unprepared 19year old, to who I am now is ripe with metaphors.

This upcoming holiday is already vastly different in almost every way to the working gap year I ventured on in 2011. At 19 I departed shortly after my birthday in September to New Zealand where I landed into a groom job at a “renowned” show jumping farm just outside of Auckland. The plan I had formed was to spend nine months working on this farm in what I assumed would be my dream job. Laugh out loud.

What really happened was a blurred six months of extreme and very tough self discovery. I lasted two months at what can only be referred to as the “job” (more like volunteer experience, that made me realize I was better suited to self employment, experienced Auckland during the rugby world up (and got lost/wandered the city until 4am), got sick too many times, experienced the rodeo circuit, got sick some more, shaved my head for moneyI desperately needed, became the bald girl, exercised steeplechase horses, hiked a glacier, somewhere between these two events developed a cyst in the area around my tail bone, ignored pain, developed infection, ended my trip with septic shock and a five day excursion in the Dunedin hospital fighting off surgery before flying home.

It was a tough trip and a huge growth point. On that trip, for all the scary/lonely/difficult moments I also experienced support from unexpected places, the magic that is NZ, and enough reflective material for a life time. I changed my career path on that trip and that led me into the AT program at UWinnipeg, which was the launch point for my career as it is now. I learned how to take care of myself on that trip. I learned the cause and effect of ignoring my body on that trip. I experienced life beyond superficiality in appearance and began to figure out how to set my standards for how others treated me.

Life is different now.

I wrote in my journal on Jan 1, 2020: “If 2019 was the year that burned things down to ask, 2020 is the year the phoenix rises”.

2019 felt to me like a slow burn of everything I had held onto to create who I thought I was.  I was aware I was going through a major shift – and how things manifested never felt incorrect though it often surprised me.

I began to consciously choose things that fertilized evolution, and let die the things that no longer served. I became aware of coping mechanisms that had served me once perhaps, but no longer had a progressive purpose. Things like my relationship to food, my relationship to money, my expression of truth in various situations, and my relationship to motivation all shifted.

As evident in my last post on creating space, I chose “doing less” much more consciously than I chose “doing more”. In the years that followed my last adventure to NZ I had always chosen “more”. I filled my life to the brim with education, relationships, jobs, businesses, ambition. Over those years my motivation changed. My ability to push through died. Burn out became normal. Toxic relationships prevailed and my ability to effectively lead, express and maintain balance fizzled. And then.. I just couldn’t any more. My body wouldn’t allow it and anxiety woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me things had to change.

My rebrand in the fall was my conscious expression of choosing myself again. Redirecting my efforts towards my true expression, professionally and personally, and creating space for that evolution to organically occur instead of attempting to force it.

In the last month or so I’ve experienced a rebirth of all those things I had to let go of. I reframed my relationship to food and to money. I left space where shadows told me to fill it. I expressed what my intuition called for me to express on my professional forums and let myself be guided in how I approach treating others. I stayed present in my awareness for my reactions in all sorts of situations and in that space created I began to heal myself on numerous levels of my being.

And now… I feel well enough to add more back in. I crave riding again. I crave going to the gym to push myself again. I truly can and want to do more once again, in a way I don’t think I’ve felt since the beginning of the decade.

All of this is a testament to the power of rest. To leaning in to fatigue and exhaustion instead of rallying against those signals. We so often treat calls from our body as inconveniences and yet when we allow our body to guide us, with patience, we find it’s the only true way to heal ourselves.

When we first booked this upcoming excursion to NZ I struggled with negative flashbacks for a few weeks. Visions of pain, mistreatment, near death experiences clouded my excitement. My tailbone hurt for a week after we booked the tickets, the same way it hurts every March around the same time of year it hurt originally. Those who say our body doesn’t remember are lost in a world of ignorance.

Yet, in space and time those visions of resentment became rallying excitement. How lucky am I to return to a place that holds such magic, memories, and luxury at a time in my life where I can create a whole new experience?

“You cannot erase memories but you can let go of the heavy energy that is attached to them” – Yung Pueblo

If I were to write a letter to that nineteen year old experiencing life at the beginning of this decade the words would encourage her to continue walking through the world with her eyes wide open.

If I were to write to the fiery, ambitious twenty something that scorched her way through competitive riding and university life the words would remind her to listen to her body and not use exercise as her only outlet for stress. That burnout takes more patience than she’ll have, and that the body will get the rest it needs one way or another.

If I were to write to a future version of me I would write in a way that would remind her to exercise expressions of gratitude no matter her circumstance, and remind her that she has a tendency to underestimate her power to create exactly the reality she wants. Her contentment comes from creating space to enjoy each moment, from balance, not from trying to create more moments.

Life is good. My relationships to material aspects in my life, to my SO, to my body, and to my work are ritualized by gratitude and presence. Contentment fills space created.

Stay tuned for NZ adventures round two 😉

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Wild Goose Chase

A wild goose chase is defined as a “foolish and hopeless pursuit of something unattainable”.

This is not the path I’ve chosen.

If you follow my channels at all, you’ll likely have noticed I am all over the map lately (lol, lately..). It’s been fascinating to me to observe people’s reaction to this gypsy lifestyle I appear to have adopted.

Many don’t question it at all.. having experienced who I am and seen the unshakeable faith I have in where I’m headed. Others approach it cautiously, seeming to wonder if I’ve A) lost my mind or B) become addicted to the not so wild goose chase that can be self discovery and/or C) am running from something. The latter usually seem to come from a place of fear.. “how are you going to put down roots?” “are you making any money?” “how can you be effective if you’re so busy all the time?”.

Within this year I’ve ventured across western Canada numerous times. At first for seemingly standard board meetings, then back for a cautious venture into possibility, then more dedicated efforts into what could be, and now well within the realm of “shit, this is happening”.

Somewhere along the way I have lost the thought process of “this is for the next five years, but not right now”- and gained the sense for when and what fits, and when something does not or isn’t timed right. This, while seemingly a developed skill, is simplified when you permit connection to that inexplainable voice/sense/instinct inside.

Through these ventures I’ve gained roots not to physical places or things, but deep into my own being. Through travels all over the world I’ve been able to observe my self, and now I can grow from roots being put down deep within. I’ve been able to see and understand where I’ve been, why I do what I do on whole new levels, and walk with an even more steadfast purpose towards where I’m going no matter what the physical location or “practicalities” are.

The beauty of this is learning the absolute power of synchronicity. What I used to contempt-fully view as having patience, I now know is just the art of letting things unfold as they always will. The secret to this art is truly understanding and valuing the gut instinct that resides in each of us. The trust and conversation that is necessary for one’s path to unfold gloriously is not a natural skill for many, unfortunately, but luckily an available skill for all to develop.

In this existence I find it next to impossible to ignore the voice and nudges from within. Some view this as a impulsivity and a immaturity. Some understand to some level. Some admire. Some live vicariously through it. This isn’t meant to be written as a lecture- just an observation on what I’m observing through this phase of growth and personal study. I know I’m on my right path, and part of that path is sharing the information I experience.

It’s not rocket science at this point in time to note that many of the aches, pains, and complaints I deal with in my line of work with clients stem from voices not heard within over time. Part of the reason I’ve taken the steps to grow a national client base is that the more I consult all kinds of people, the more I see a deficit in who we allow ourselves to be.

Take a recent conversation for example. This past week I spent at the Ag in Motion event just outside of Saskatoon, as a consultant and columnist for GrainNews on the topic of Fit to Farm. At this large scale event my job was to hang out at the publication’s booth and chat with readers of my columns. On the last day, a kind and lovely farmer approached me regarding a new symptom of not being able to lift his foot properly. Long story short we deduced the problem to a longstanding issue in his back, which was highly correctable with some effort (as most things are).

After chatting for quite a while and consulting with him – he commented “well, I’m just an all over mess anyway- there’s probably no way I’ll ever be completely well again!”. (this isn’t an unusual comment for me to hear). I found myself calmly yet sternly affirming to him that there was no doubt in my mind, as a health professional, that he had a high potential of being exactly as functional as he wanted to be.. and that that was up to him.

I was a little shocked at the bluntness of my external reaction- yet I’m also kind of over sugar coating people’s opinions of themselves.

Thankfully- his reaction made it worth it. It was something he clearly did not expect to hear, yet was clearly extremely thankful to hear. “Thank you for telling me that.. I DO want to be healthy and it means SO much to me that you think it is possible”.

How often do we downplay our possibility? How often do the words in our heads or those coming out of our mouths affirm our possibility of success/happiness/health/ambition (or the opposite?).

What I’ve noticed in these few months of testing the possibility of what I want, can, and will do… is how powerful intention is. We design our realities, and the framework we have to work with is the thoughts and awareness we hold for ourselves in each moment. If you look at the authentic leaders and success stories of our day and age, you will see a trend. Purpose, self-discovery within that purpose, self-worth cultivated through faith and lessons directly from attempt and failure on repeat.

Through a constant examination of fears, negative thoughts, how my expression (words that exit my mouth and float through my brain) directly (seriously) impact my reality I’ve begun noticing the constant signage and suggestion from within and all around us. As I pay attention there synchronicity that fills my life with the “right” people, opportunity, and the precisely correct tests and challenges for me to go through.

Replace the worry that comes with the unknowns with faith that if you listen, observe, and choose your intentions for yourself wisely that the lesson and subsequent next steps do indeed become quite obvious. You can’t escape your pain? What are you holding onto that’s chaining you to the chronic message from your body? Stuck in the negative? What are you saying and thinking that puts your energy in the deficit? Wondering why things never work out? Is there a voice asking you, begging you to listen.. trying to remind you of something you authentically wanted but haven’t pursued? Every. Damn. Interaction. Has. A. Question. And. A. Answer. If. You. Listen. And. Observe.

 

Pegs and Holes: Thoughts from the not so beaten path

I’ve been thinking quite a lot lately about systems.

The systems we create, rely on, and get stuck within.

As a business owner I have (somewhat unwittingly) created and bought into systems for efficiency and growth. As a society we innately reside within systems for the same reason. Efficiency, social construct, and organization of the masses.

Every single one of us is required to live within numerous systems, and abide by systems that have been predetermined. Think insurance policies, healthcare, government constructs, etc. We also have numerous self-created systems that most of us aren’t aware of.. how we react to pain, our process around relationships, and our systems behind day to day decision making.

In the start-up of my businesses I quickly realized problems within existing systems and set out to create solutions. That is largely how businesses start.. as a solution to a problem the masses have within existing systems. What I quickly realized, working with health related fields, is that there are copious amounts of systems that create more problems then good.. both on a global scale, and a local/individual scale.

More then once a day I think to myself (or, lately say out loud), “but.. why does it HAVE to be that way?”. Majority of us take comfort in systems. It’s easy to follow a set out pathway. It doesn’t require much thought, and generally it just makes intuitive- forward moving sense. BUT. Is the comfortable option always the best? If you’ve read any of my material, you’ll know my answer to that..

Current example.. in ongoing discussions with an insurance company we direct bill through who’s policy is to have exclusive provider numbers for each staff at each separate location.. and now requires me to send in individual direct deposit forms for each staff at each location. I have four therapists that we bill to them for, all of which work at each location intermittently, so now I am sending in the same form with the exact same information on it (the only different info would be the name of each provider), eight separate times… No big deal- just annoying and seemingly unnecessary if one could think just a micro-metre outside of the box they’d been placed in. I suppose in a round about way, systems and policies like this are just an attempt at job creation?

That is quite an inane example, but it did fit into the thought theme I’ve been on.

I’m not an in the box systems creator. Obviously. So much of my career so far has been about looking outside the box, thinking laterally, and finding effective and sustainable solutions for everyone involved. Often this happens unwittingly, just because I see a system that doesn’t serve whatever it was designed to serve any longer- and can’t force myself to not question it..

How many times in a day do you get caught in a pattern because that’s just the way something has always been done, even though there are likely ten different options to accomplishing the same task.. perhaps even more efficiently?

Let’s bring system thought into the perspective of our health.

Systems are a type A term for habits. A series of mental processes we follow until it becomes an automatic process carved into our neurology. Routines, for good or for bad, that we rely on to exist.

The system I see most frequently is one surrounding pain (mental or physical).

No matter what the issue physically or mentally we all seek out the system we see as the most efficient. We find resources/pills/remedies to alleviate the symptoms, and often begin to just normalize those symptoms as a part of life, and move along our merry way.

Yet, time after time, I see people follow this pattern down a road until decades later they stop and think.. is this making any sense? I haven’t corrected the problem, I’ve only masked it. I’m still uncomfortable, and this seemed convenient but now looking back.. it hasn’t been convenient at all as now nothing has changed and I’m still not healthy.

This same analogy can be transferred to humans and their careers/family/relationship goals. We have been raised in systems and conditioned to think there in a linear path to follow. Find a career, sustain your lifestyle, find a person, follow point A to B to C to D..

I’ve always had an inner question mark surrounding this. I haven’t always known where I was headed, but I also have rarely seen a need to know. Where others have pressured and found safety in formulating a plan to makes sense given the paths they were told were the “right” paths, I’ve felt claustrophobic. In times where I have found comfort in routine and “normal” systems.. it’s rarely been lasting before a questions comes up, or a different way becomes obvious.

 

There has been a lot of value placed on routines.Maybe it’s the number of times I’ve been lost traveling in foreign countries, or in my home city.. and been forced to figure out new systems to get to where I need to be without (but sometimes still) panicking. Maybe it’s my rebellious nature, but I find routine in flowing with what feels right in the moment. That is certainly not for everyone. With each personality comes a different way of operating, and what’s healthy and useful for one, may not serve the next. As a health care provider, this is an invaluable lesson to learn- though the formation of any successful system when it comes to our wellbeing will always come down to figuring out how to effectively help someone listen to their inner workings and react accordingly. A system can both assist in that awareness building process for some, or come as a result of asking inward questions.

The generation I exist in is a hybrid of one’s past. With some of my peers staying comfortable in trust for systems they were raised in, and many of us having been raised in systems that clearly were broken.. we have started asking the “but, why?” question- and more often then not just pursuing our own path and working to create better options for a society that is full of faulty systems.

When I work with clients now, I feel a need to constantly challenge their inner workings. Usually if they’ve found their way to me it’s because they have experienced a broken system externally or within themselves- and knowingly or not need a shift. I’ve found that working with clients on this deeper level to help them rebuild their systems for themselves is what truly feeds my fire.

So- the next time you find yourself frustrated by a system.. in work, life, and love.. ask yourself a why. Does it HAVE to follow the linear system you have been told the situation must follow.. or is there a way to step off that track and create a different path?

So here we are.

“So here we are, in our rags, walking down a road we’ve never seen before with the mark of our wild nature glowing through us. It is fair to say that conjunctio is insisting on a revision of the old you. Conjunctio is not something that goes out and gets. It is something that occurs because hard, hard work is being done.” CPE, Women Who Run With Wolves

I wrote last about exhaustion and faith. Of clarity through the fog.

Conjunctio- a theme that appeared in my morning read of Clarissa Pinkola Estes “Women Who Run With Wolves”, is a term coming from the practice of alchemy meaning a higher transformative union of unlike substances. A process of conjunction and pressure of dissimilar elements inhabiting the same space where insight and knowing are made. The part of the book she brings this up in is after the description of the “devil” aspect of our psyche, where a dual nature is symbolized within the psyche. A nature that both badgers us for something and heals us simultaneously. A process where something is lost or transmuted into the combination becoming more.

My dreams a few nights in a row now have been frequented with images of my time in New Zealand. Mostly periods of time spent in contemplation. Which, looking back, was a large theme of the trip (after coming face to face with myself for the first extended period of time distraction free). Long bus rides, long walks, long walks fronting for escapes from a reality I didn’t like. Time to mull over my emotion (at the time, I’m not sure I realized this is what I was doing) and time to prepare myself for the negativity I was keeping myself in during that brief period. Monotonous days made monotonous only due to the fact I was running from the truth I was feeling so strongly within. And, after this period, snapshot style images floating through my subconscious dream-state of even longer times of sitting with my surroundings (internally and externally), digesting, observing.

Through the last couple weeks I’ve been hit with many realizations.

The things I used to describe my ideal life by have become truths of my everyday ventures.

Last weekend I ended a week of clients with a day spent at a sporting event promoting my business while offering services and medical coverage to athletes. This day filled with being thrown right back into the field and having a line of up of sweaty, battle-worn athletes that needed everything I had all day was like reliving the reasons that drew me into this career in the first place. I took a short break away from this event to teach a class under the RideWell heading- where another group of dedicated athletes encompassed the other portion of why I love what I do. Teaching, educating, empowering those who are ready and looking for what I can offer.

After all that I hopped on a plane and flew to a city quickly feeling like a second home, Calgary. Here I spent 3 days enveloped in new professional and personal focuses. From old connections to new, the whole time I spent there I was continually surrounded by the calmness that I described in my last blog. A faith so strong that it’s next to impossible to imagine things not working out or aligning just right.

Indeed, through conversations had while in Calgary- it came to light that things I’d been saying for years, or had in the back of my mind as “eventuals” were seemingly already occurring or about to. Needless to say, it is not hard for me to find and create opportunity out West.

A life lived in many facets has always sat well with me. It’s what I’ve looked towards. Endless opportunity.

Since beginning a slow return to riding myself I’ve noticed a shift back into what I think of as “athlete mind”. Something that can be a trickster for us who work with athletes, but a trait that sets many apart on their journeys nonetheless.

As thing seem to align West, the little irritations or blocks I’ve noticed home in Winnipeg seem to be more.. synchronistic. In that, as I trust and direct my energy towards what feels right, everything else seems to solve itself. The practice I’ve built here is becoming more observably more then just myself. The idea of me creating a self-sustaining (to an extent) opportunity for clients and practitioners to thrive within while I pursue endless other ideas is all of a sudden much more realistic and timely.

RideWell (new venture) is heading West to networking at Spruce Meadows this summer. Integrative is moving into new, open space with a strong team within it. Making it logical for me to let it grow into the vision I’ve set for it, while I create avenues leading away (and back to) the original brand.

The idea of my equestrian focused practice expanding to a larger market all of a sudden is pushed into gear as I put some vested energy into opening the door I shoved my foot into West of MB.

Did I think these motivations and ideas would be brought to light so soon in my career because of a sporadic decision to fly to another province for a date? Absolutely not, but would it be me if there wasn’t a hint of wild adventure along the way?

Energy flows where attention goes, and lately I’ve had to stop and contemplate the strange way my motivation has moved and drawn me towards what I’ve always said I wanted.

Unsurprisingly the theme of my meditation this morning, and the tarot card I drew for myself was a card of contemplation.

Imagery wise, seven pentacles (symbol of material possessions, career, etc) aligned in a diagonal row- with symmetrical lines forming square points at each circled pentacle. An orderly, curious image- all at once.

The last few years I’ve seen myself move away from a intrinsically hyper-motivated athlete mind to a “go with the flow, let go, recovery” state. Partially due to injury and illness, and shifts in focus. It’s nonetheless been a beneficial state.. and now, things are moving back to operating for high performance (this doesn’t exclude periods of the above recovery minded state). The win being whatever the f I want it to be in the short and long term.

It often takes a minute of stepping back, counting the things lining up and the possibilities behind each, taking in the larger perspective to really note what is more valuable: wandering along or a intentional direction.

When I look back on the last two years I see a intentional direction with a unintentional lack of long view purpose.

In the last 6months I’ve seen that purpose align and clarify.

In the last 3months I’ve become confident in that purpose and noticed other doors open.

Behind each door is more reflection, more contemplation, more energy to direct.

As I observe that process I am noting that I’ve only begun to tap into my potential, and the potential of my ideas. I am so much more then what I am right now, and I have already proven that in looking behind at the chapters I’ve written.

The fascinating thing about creating a business (or two+) out of your dreams and ideas is that it is a tangible measure of your personal development and commitment to your purpose.

Every step forward comes with the acknowledgement of a reflection shining back at me from some other aspect of my life. A person, a memory, a emotion I can’t quite place, a connection or disconnection that’s stuck with me. More then ever I’m aware of inconspicuous guides surrounding me. Often in the form of fellow humans entering (and exiting) my life as if right on cue.

This is all a reminder of staying focused, but not too focused on it all. Often the most subtle, only seen in the peripheral (or hindsight) are the things with the strongest meaning.

“The psyche of woman must constantly sow, train, and harvest new energy in order to replace what has been worn out.. there is constant living, constant death dealing, constant replacement of ideas, images, energies…” -CPE, Women Who Run With Wolves

A period of contemplation, indeed. The soil is fertilized and ready for spring, now which seeds to plant and how to nurture the growth?

Eyes Up, Shoulders Back

“You must not fail to explore anything that interests you. Any skill you want to master should be learned. Any subject that arouses curiousity should be examined. Every insecurity should be overcome. Every question should be answered. If you do not do this, then you cannot freely experience life. Every one of your uncertainties will be an obstacle.. Initially it will seem as if there is no connection between your time meditating and the outer things in your life. After all, the masters themselves constantly stress the difference between the spiritual and the social. But eventually, you will reach a point where the quiescence of contemplation and the active ness of living are integrated..” — The Daily Tao, “Integration”

I’ve circled around to some old insecurities lately.

Since I wrote last so much as happened, and yet I feel like it’s all circled back to where it started a few months ago, a few years ago.

If you look closely you can notice themes in your life. They all revolve around similar bread crumb trails- which lead back to insecurities, questions, uncertainties we had at one point. You continue being faced with the same problem, question or archetype- even after you thought you’ve clarified it ten times over.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately meditating on how much a small business, or any business at its roots, depends on the development of it’s proprietor. As my ventures grow and opportunities come and are unpacked- I routinely have to go within and unpack different layers of myself, and experiences that I once thought had nothing to do with running a business.

It’s true, though. You listen to the successes of the day and they all say the same things. Once, not that long ago, they were living off ramen, broke, unsure of where to turn, with nothing but raw passion and a vision for some form of creation. Usually with the greater good in mind, and nothing else to back them up, they went for it. Lack of money be damned. Money flows where intention goes, similar to energy goes where intention flows- or whatever. Money is energy and energy follows thoughts. Along the way they were forced to work on themselves, face doubts and crippling fear, build authenticity, and as their business grew so did they as individuals. The collective effort of experiencing life and developing a vision formed mad success in wherever they chose to have success.

You hear a lot of the opposite too, sure. Those who gave into the doubt, got sucked into profit over passion and lost their way, etc.. those who return to something more stable, safer- and pay for their security with regret, sickness, chronic stress or mild resentment ongoing.

I was smacked in the face with some of my own insecurities recently. I spent weeks debating the decision to send out a status asking about availability of horses for part board. WEEKS. My hesitation came from the fact that every single year around this time of year I feel the need to be riding again. The last couple years I’ve pursued that feeling lightly and found those in need of someone to spend extra time on their horses. It lasts a few months and then I get distracted with the rest of my life and feign phrases like “it’s just not a priority right now” and move on.

I finally just made myself put the post up, and within an hour had at least ten offers from fellow riders offering connections with horses or horses close to them for part board. The difference this time is that I chose a route that required commitment in the form of money and time with coaches. I know this works for me as its exactly the same thing I did a year ago when I hired a personal trainer for myself. I also know what a game changer last years self enforced commitment has turned out to be.

I rode for the first time on Saturday and I am still depressingly sore in places any rider who has taken time off knows. Muscles groups that seem to come alive only in the saddle were re-engaged and.. yes, I am horrifically out of shape compared to where I used to be. A strong foundation exists, currently covered in a few years of silt.

You know what came up during my brief trial ride this weekend? The same damn things that have come up over and over again in the last few months as a manager and business owner/entrepreneur. Fear. Anger at the fear. Loneliness.

The same things I left the sport with a few years back. Fear of falling. More than that. Fear of letting go. I was asked if I wanted to pop over a couple jumps on this horse, who in all honesty was already the most advanced and well-trained/anatomically gifted horse I’d ridden to date (and who frankly was already babysitting my rusty ass)- the first voice in my head was “don’t do that, you’re not ready.. you haven’t jumped in years and what if you mess up and get hurt”. That voice was immediately followed by a sickening frustration, and then shortly after followed by a second long panic attack- THEN finally resulted in resolve. A voice calmly stating “If you don’t jump over that tiny ass jump today, you’ll never commit to this long term.”. So I rode over a few jumps, until I literally couldn’t control the muscles in my legs anymore, and jelly-fished myself off the horse afterwards feeling like I’d just made it to Base Camp again.

There’s never going to be an end to the mountains in your life. The discomfort. The emotions. The insecurities. The horse. The jump. The fear of the first fence. There’s always going to be an equivalent. The panic arising when things aren’t what they appear or don’t progress how you predict. The exhaustion and the solitude. The fear that doesn’t go away after the first fence- the fear that just gets stifled eventually by resolve.

I realized in that second that my goals, especially in the equestrian parts of my business, but also in all my other ventures, were riding (pun not intended)- to a certain extent- on this moment. Just as they were riding on my completion of the trek to Base Camp. There’s nobody holding me accountable, but my choices around how to confront (or how to avoid) the insecurities within myself do unequivocally impact where I go next. When I really sit with myself and ask if there is a right or wrong direction to go, I know the answer is simultaneously that there isn’t a right or wrong direction, but there is always a direction that feels true.

I rebranded/launched the equestrian specific portion of my business this winter as RideWell Performance, and I set lofty goals for RideWell/myself. Which I know I’ll accomplish.  Integrative Movement is growing and opportunities continue to find me. They find me because I am open for them. What I’ve realized in the last year is that not all opportunities are as shiny and necessary as they initially seem. Where last year was a year of saying yes to everything, this year’s theme has become negotiating, sitting, waiting, and examining all sides. This is most definitely why I am so tired mentally, emotionally, and spiritually lately.

From where I sit today, and in the last few months.. I am exhausted.

I’m exhausted in new ways- ways that are similar to how I often felt in University. New experiences, shifts in relationships, people coming and going from my life- people taking on new roles in my life, people taking up mental energy even when they don’t physically hold presence anymore- ghosts that reside in my head and still offer valuable advice and words of affirmation (Read: I’m losing it but in a good way, it’s fine). None of it is ever negative, and everything continues to align just as it needs to for whatever comes next. My faith and resolve has never been stronger, and I’m.. exhausted, often lonely, yet always grateful.

I know that many people, especially those working hard to be true to what they know inside themselves, feel these things. If someone like me who has been blessed enough to have more support, opportunity, and resources then many could even imagine can feel lost, exhausted, beaten down, lonely- alongside the inspiration, resolve, and gratitude- then I know without a doubt others are experiencing the same thing in all different walks of life. And so it seems pithy to remark on how exhausted I am while sitting in the apartment I can afford, eating the meals I have the resources to create, sore from being lucky enough to ride a large expensive animal for recreation, mulling over parts of the businesses I brought to life… but I am remarking on it because I know I need to read, hear and see other’s stories- and wish more people would openly speak of this part of figuring it all out and pushing for more.

It’s human, and it’s universal- with varying contexts.

As usual I’ve rambled onwards over the thousand word mark- but I think what I am trying to get across is that through all the exhaustion I am tied even more signifcantly to the (often blind) faith that pulls me onwards. What other choice is there? Once you follow your heart, mind, soul towards a vision that clarifies why you’re really here (even if you haven’t reached the clarity part)- there isn’t another choice but carrying on. Life just keeps coming at you anyway. Wherever at in your experience, keep experiencing it (note the change in this blog’s domain name ;)).

I’ve seen enough proof in the power of having faith in one’s own power, vision, and path (or direct faith in the Universe, or God, etc etc). You’re where you are for a reason. The fears and insecurities that keep popping up for you are valid in their own way, and they have something for you to reflect on every time they do come up. Give them a voice, recognize them, but don’t surrender all your power to them. Let them help you realize your own power in new ways.

That turned cheesier then I wanted to.. but here’s to getting back on the literal horse again!