Cold, angry man stood
defiant, “Get off my lawn!”
I kicked his white ass
Snowman Sacrifice Haiku
Loki Is A Trickster And A Delight
We brought our newest family member home on September 26th when he was 8 weeks old. We’re now beginning our 21st week with our little mischief-maker. We’ve spent the past five months figuring him out and trying to get him adjusted to our life here. We’ve taken him to puppy socialization classes where he excelled at holding his own against dogs far taller and heavier than he is. We tried him at puppy training classes at Petsmart, only to be foiled by two very small, very barky, very distracting miniature schnauzers that made it impossible to hear the dog trainer and practice commands. We finally went back to the trainer who ran the puppy socialization classes, Lynn, and signed up for Delightful Dog class. Loki had a real affinity for Lynn, so we knew this might be the person who could help us get him on track (although we already thought he was a delightful dog).
Fortunately for us, there were only four puppers in the class including Loki. With fewer doggy distractions (and no excessive barkers), we were in it to win it. Lynn gave us plenty of wonderful tips for positive training. It’s all about treats and clear messaging for positive behaviors and lots of patience. Loki came to class already proficient in Watch Me, Touch, and Sit, plus a couple fun commands we worked on just for giggles, Spin (self-explanatory) and Boop (he has to put his nose through the hole of a donut toy). Our first real challenge with him was Down, which is hard to teach a dog who only has six inches of ground clearance. He thinks he’s already pretty far down and doesn’t see why we want him to lower himself. Lynn showed us how we could sit on the ground and lure Loki under our bent knees, which would force him onto his belly to get underneath for the treat. Once his belly hit the ground, we let out an emphatic “yes” and gave him a reward. It took about five minutes of this before he figured out that Down meant flat on his belly. Over the course of a couple weeks, we got him to the point where we can say Down and point to the floor and he drops onto his belly. Such a good boy.
We were still working on Stay and Come when time for the class final arrived. I was nervous on the way to class. I told Loki not to embarrass us during his test, but I knew he probably would, at least a little bit. Lynn did a great job of not making any of us, dogs or humans, feel anxious once we arrived. Loki blew through Watch Me, Touch, and Sit like a champ. Then he showed Lynn that he had learned Down. Loki did pretty well with Leave It, ignoring the treats in my open palm in front of his face. He did an okay job with Stay, but when it came to Come things went off the rails. With his leash off and other dogs and humans nearby, it was a Loki free-for-all. Despite my treats and emphatic cries of “Loki, COME,” he was what you would expect from a corgi named Loki…all mischief and tricks. But, that’s okay. He’s an adolescent corgi. We can keep working on it. He will get there eventually. He’s a smart little guy who loves treats and has patient parents who want to see him succeed.
When all the dogs had cycled through the exam material, Lynn played “Pomp and Circumstance” and handed out diplomas, with tacit acknowledgment from all the pet parents there is still plenty of work to be done. For us, it’s going to be many more walks to perfect loose leash walking, along with time focusing on Come and Stay. I would also like him to learn Place and Wait. And I will never stop teaching him tricks. If I taught him to use Inside Voice, I’m pretty sure I can follow that up with Crawl, Stretch, Shake, and a few others. Teaching a dog to behave is hard work. Teaching a dog to be cute is fun work. We’re proud of our little graduate. He only got a B- on his final exam because of the disaster with the Come command, but he gets an A from us for making us laugh every damn day. Good job, little Loki.
Dream Big — If You Can’t Dream It, You Can’t Do It
A few weeks ago, I bought a journal and new pens. I bought one for my youngest sister too. Then I told her we would use our journals to get our poop in a group. Because she and I are on similar journeys of self-discovery, I told her we would come up with writing assignments for our journals and share what we were writing so we could lift each other up and support each other to reach our goals. To that end, a week ago I created our first assignment. I called it our Dream Big Assessment. We were to come up with a list of things we would like to see, experience, do, or have in our lives in the next twenty years. The caveat is that we have to dream big. No worrying about money or practicality or health or reality. It didn’t matter if what we listed was pie-in-the-sky. It was meant to be. You can’t manifest something if you can’t first envision it. And if you’re going to envision a future you would love to live, why would you let reality tether you? I started my list with this statement to make sure I kept my intentions clear.
“If I could dream anything for the next twenty years of my life, these things would happen. I would…”
It was a good idea to start with active statements, but my statements started out rather prosaic. I suppose this is because I am a practical person, but I suspect it is also because I’m accustomed to living smaller than I am. When you have spent your life in a box someone else designed for you, it’s a challenge to stretch and imagine yourself or your life as something so much bigger than you ever dared to dream before. So my list began mostly realistic and, therefore, understated. I would….
- Publish something I have written
- Speak about said published work to interested readers in a public forum, like a book club
- See my sons in happy, healthy relationships where they feel loved and supported
- Hold and love on a grandchild or two or three
- Own more dogs
Most of these items are intentionally vague. I mean, “publish something” could mean an article in an online newsletter with a readership of 25 people. By not elucidating an action more clearly, I am giving myself a safe space to continue being small. After realizing I was being too calculated and cautious with my dreams, choosing things that had a decent probability of happening, I started to get a bit more specific with my choices:
- Cycle through Provence when the lavender is in bloom
- Spend a year traveling the US and living in an Airstream trailer
- Learn how to scuba dive, knit, and tap dance
Again, all these items are fairly attainable and not huge stretches of the imagination, but at least they were more specific. I was making some progress with my wording and specificity, but I felt the list was sounding rather shallow. All the endeavors I listed were about doing, not about being. So I commenced traipsing down more of a life-philosophy path:
- Feel more comfortable being myself regardless of the situation
- Be less defensive and more contemplative, curious, and forgiving
- Be mindful and grateful as often as possible
- Lead with compassion and empathy
While all these items are good goals and, when compared to my normal modus operandi, are definitely dream big enterprises in terms of personal growth, they don’t really fit the assignment either. Try again, sister. So I let my mind get a little crazier and stretch a bit farther and dig into dreams I had when I was much younger and had more life ahead of me than in the rearview:
- Own a Jaguar E-Type convertible in British racing green with camel interior
- Travel the Greek islands in a private, chartered yacht
- See the Northern Lights in Lapland
- Visit the Maldives or the Seychelles or both
- Live in either Italy or France as an expat
- Try a psychedelic drug*
- Swim with the jellyfish in Palau
I feel I am beginning to get to what I originally intended with the creation of this list. I plan to keep working on it. Items that resonate with me more than others will be added to the vision board I started creating a few weekends ago. If I can dream it, I need to see it to manifest it in my brain as part of a future to strive for.
What would make it onto your Dream Big list? Maybe something I wrote here will inspire you? Maybe something on your list would spark an idea for me?
*This idea came from a book I read by Michael Pollan called How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence
Short Dog Problems
Last fall, we got ourselves a new family member in the form of a corgi puppy whom we named Loki because we knew he would be full of mischief. We were not mistaken. Despite his diminutive size, he can cause a lot of mayhem and he can do it quickly because, despite their short legs and stocky appearance, corgis can run 25 miles per hour. Our little cutie tears through our house, leaping for and pulling down towels from racks, grabbing toilet paper and dragging it behind him through the house in one large strip, and then evading us by sliding under furniture to hide. It’s simultaneously annoying as hell and hysterical. And he’s so damn cute that, despite his ability to upend our entire house in five minutes, we continue to let him live here.
We’ve struggled with what to do with him in the car. He typically begins any car ride secured in a kennel for safety, but that is zero fun for our little guy and so he whines and barks because he is short, trapped, and unable to see what he’s missing. As you can imagine, our car trips with him are not much fun because we are faced with a choice: keep him safe and have him bark the entire ride or take him out of the kennel so he is quiet but not safe. Car rides are awesome for bigger dogs because they can see out windows and even stick their heads out them. One safety harness and a car ride is a joy for a taller dog. Loki’s field of vision allows him to see the black upholstery in my car and that’s about it.
So, I went on a hunt for a way to secure him while allowing him to enjoy a view that isn’t achieved through using me as his step stool and I found this booster seat on Amazon.
I had to find one that holds medium-size dogs because most car boosters are made for dogs under 15 pounds. Loki, while short, is a sturdy 22 pounds right now at 7 months. He has your basic bodybuilder physique, broad and strong up top with a smaller bottom half, similar to a bulldog. Despite his weight-to-height ratio, he has a trim, indented waist and an easily discernible rib cage. We call him a chonky boi, but he isn’t. He’s a rock. In fact, we should have named him Dwayne Johnson so we could legitimately call him The Rock Junior.
I installed the car seat this morning. It took a little finagling to feed the seat belt though the bottom section of the cushion, but I finally got it in place. Then I picked up our little brick house and put him in the seat and attached his front-clip harness to the tether in the seat. So far, so good. He seemed a little confused but also curious about it all. He tried to figure out if he could get out of the seat and realized the short leash he was on would not allow it. Still, he stood up for the first couple blocks as we tooled through the neighborhood before finally realizing he could see just fine if he sat and relaxed a bit. Our first outing was a quick, 5-minute cruise to acclimate him to the idea of the seat. He did pretty well. Later I plan to take him on a longer ride to the post office. One step at a time.
When we decided to get a corgi, I have to admit it never occurred to me that he would have short dog problems. I never thought I would have to buy dog stairs so he could get on our bed if he wanted. It never occurred to me he might have issues getting down the back stairs to the yard from our deck either. It never crossed my mind that I would be lying on the living room floor trying to drag his heart-shaped butt out from under our sofas. I never thought I would be toweling off his belly every single time we took a walk because his low clearance means he is constantly soaked underneath from snow or wet grass or muddy fields. I also never realized how fast he would be able to grab something that fell on the floor because he is so close to it. It’s safe to say that a doggy booster seat never entered my consciousness either. All of these things should have been clear to me because, while Loki has short dog problems, I have short girl problems. I regularly climb onto our countertops to reach things on upper shelves in our cupboards. Unaltered pants are always too long on me. And my corgi is the only immediate family member I can look down on. Honestly, about the only place I fit just right is an airplane lavatory. Those tiny closets work perfectly well for me.
Still, we’re figuring these things out together and making necessary adjustments. We should be all set when we get our next fur-dispensing, corgi bundle of joy someday in the not-too-distant future.
The Best In My Corner
I got this surprise care package today from my sister. In the adorably decorated box (with a side-eye warning on the top to keep the men in my house of out my things), I uncovered items to make me smile, to give me something to do to distract my mind, and to lift my spirit. There is, of course, a corgi and then a white Fennec fox called Phoenix to help me rise. And anyone who knows me at all knows Haribo is my favorite candy ever. Just made my day.
Everyone should have someone in their corner the way my sister is in mine. It’s been an honor to support her when she has needed it, and it’s been an even bigger honor having her support me as well.
Lights Out
We are getting the electrical panels for our solar installation today. The company rang our doorbell about 3 hours ago and told me it would be off for approximately 40 minutes. I had just popped tomatoes into the oven for roasting for soup for tonight. I just pulled them out of the cooling oven and placed them into our rapidly warming fridge. Guess we will be getting take out for dinner.
It’s a little crazy how much our lives have changed in the past 100 years. In 1925, about half of US homes had electricity. Now our entire lives are dominated by it. So consumed are we by our need for it that we are lost when it goes out. I’ve been wandering aimlessly around my house wondering what I can do. Laundry? Nope. Dinner prep? Nope. Make a smoothie? Nope? Vacuum? Nope. A storm is moving in and the house is dark, and I keep absentmindedly hitting light switches that can offer us no light. My husband told me I could use the shower, but then I reminded him I need to use a hair dryer right after that, so that is off the table too. At this point, I have determined I could read a book, do a puzzle, or take a nap, and I could only do the first two things if I found a flashlight. I am actually writing this blog post on the WordPress app on my phone, but will only be able to continue doing so as long as my phone battery holds out. I can always go for a drive to a locale with a functional power outlet, if I can open the heavy-as-sin garage door manually since the opener won’t work.
People lived for millennia without power to their domiciles, but I wouldn’t survive a day without it. I miss it already and it hasn’t even been half a day yet. I can’t decide if we should dial back our reliance on electricity or double our efforts to find ways to keep us powered all the time, even when the grid fails us. All I know for sure is that I would not want to go back in time. I would miss my ovens that require no firewood, my lamps that require no kerosene, and my refrigerator that requires no ice blocks.
If it’s this difficult for a Gen X-er to go a few hours without electricity, it would probably kill my Gen Z sons. I’m not sure how they would survive if they had to write out their homework by hand. At least I know Luke would curl up with a book. I think Joe would be on his phone until the battery ran out and then he would ask me to drive him around so he could chat with his friends while his phone charged.
Technology is a marvelous thing, until it isn’t. And then it leaves me wondering how on earth we would survive if things really went sideways and we had to abandon our modern conveniences. I mean, I try to picture myself pulling rugs out of my house and beating them with a broom while they hung on a clothesline, but I don’t see it. Let’s just hope the power gets turned back on before it comes to that.
The Lost Boys And Girls
I have over the years written here about our sons and their struggles and triumphs with education. Joe was diagnosed with ADHD at 8, and then we discovered he also had some dyslexia-adjacent issues with math (dyscalculia) and writing (dysgraphia). When our youngest was 9, we learned he had severe dyslexia and needed immediate, intensive tutoring or placement at a specialized school to remediate these issues. It was hard to take in all this information as a parent. It was harder still to recognize and accept that our sons were atypical. They struggled to thrive in a traditional school setting. Whether we liked it or were comfortable with it or not, our sons needed something else.
To that end, we placed them in a special school for kids with learning disabilities. They started when they were in 4th and 6th grades, respectively, and they improved so much in this new paradigm that we moved them to a high school that allowed them to continue along this same pathway. Our recognizing and accepting our children as they were and where they were changed their trajectory entirely. We knew they needed help. We also knew we had no clue how to help them. So we found people who could.
Now, we were in the fortunate position to be able to afford a specialized education for them, and I recognize not everyone has the means we had to make a difference for them. Before we had them in private school, we used our insurance plan to get them occupational and speech therapy. After that, we tried private tutoring, but the overwhelm for them of trying to keep up in traditional school plus spend hours a week with a tutor was untenable. They were exhausted and frustrated with being “different.” So we looked for schools that would use school time for the catch-up help they needed. And, again, we were in the fortunate position to find not one, but two, such schools in our metropolitan area. These schools, with their student bodies comprised entirely of kids just like our boys, helped them see their own potential and proved to them that they weren’t anomalies. This made them feel capable and it taught them how they learned and how they could advocate for themselves to get what they needed in other settings as well.
I have been thinking a lot lately about how parents of younger children handled working at home and having their kids do school from home during the pandemic. I believe a lot of families have spent the past two years struggling with their children as they tried to learn and complete work at home rather than in the school settings they were accustomed to. I found a perspective piece in the Washington Post that seems to suggest as much. I assume some parents, when witnessing firsthand their students learning at home, may have realized for the first time that their child or children have difficulties learning that they were unaware of. While it is hard to determine the exact number of atypical learners because not everyone who struggles has been properly diagnosed, the statistics run somewhere between 10-20% of all individuals. Not every child is cut out for traditional education. Some need something different or, at the minimum, some extra attention. And not every child will go on to higher education. Some children will excel at trade schools or art schools or in local, associates degree programs. There are many paths through this life, but every child should be getting the help they need to get through their formative educational years. No child should be struggling because they have brain differences that make learning in the traditional paradigm less than optimal.
Our schools are struggling. I read just today that an estimated half of teachers are looking for an off-ramp from their teaching careers. Not only do we need to attract more people to the teaching profession and increase pay to retain the quality teachers we have today, we also need to bring in professionals to help the kids who are getting lost, be it due to learning disabilities, poverty issues, or social issues. We are failing our children. Every day I am grateful our sons were to be born into a family where they were able to get all the extra help they needed to grow, thrive, and move forward with their dreams. I wish other children had the same access to the type of schooling our sons received. We have so many issues in our country right now, but the children who have lost time in their education due to Covid, who might also be battling other issues outside their control, will still need to launch into their futures someday. I hope we find solutions for them or this latest generation might come to be known as the lost generation.
Have Happy Place, Will Travel
Over my years of blogging here, I have minced no words when it comes to my disdain for Valentine’s Day. I think it is ridiculous. A holiday, dreamt up in cooperation by the greeting card, candy, and flower industries, that makes people either feel bad or stress out. That said, I do buy cards and candy for my husband and sons because they like those things and I like them. I also do send simple greetings to my most treasured friends because I love them and I don’t always remember to tell them that.
As a rule, my husband and I exchange cards. I do not want or expect gifts on this day. Truth be told, receiving gifts is not part of my love language. I would much rather my husband take my car to get the oil changed or drop things off at Goodwill to show me he loves me. Actions speak louder to me than words. Acts of service make sense to me when it comes to showing someone you love them. If I cook your dinner, wash your underwear, and pick up after your messes, I love you. I won’t do those things for just anyone.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I walked into the closet this afternoon after my morning’s worth of errands and found this:
This is my happy place. In actuality, a hammock is my happy place, be it in a park, at a campground, on a beach under a palm tree, or in the country. Somewhere peaceful, where I can enjoy the surrounding views and the blue sky while swaying ever so gently in repose. A seat where my mind, busy with all its overthinking, can take a few moments of respite while I practice my skills at being a human being rather than a human doing. This is everything.
It was apropos that Steve hung this in our closet because that is where I meditate (don’t judge…it’s quiet and no one goes in there). It is also where I go when I am stressed and need to take a pause to breathe and get ready to face life again. I have been in our closet more than usual lately. In the absence of a shady, quiet spot where I can float in a hammock, I will totally use this visual reminder of my happy place in our closet. It will work just fine in between times when I can be in the mountains or a park or on a beach staring at the sky.
Every single day I am grateful for my husband who has given me every good thing in my life and always allowed me space to grow and be the introverted nutball I am. Marriage certainly has its ups and downs, but there are decidedly less of those when you are married to someone who truly gets you.
If Valentine’s Day is your special day, I hope you have a great one. If, like me, this day is just another day on the calendar to you, I hope you get to spend it with people who know how to make your happy place appear when you need it most.
Bucket List Item #4: Take A Welding Class
When we learned that our sons’ small, specialized high school had a welding shop and a ceramics studio, we were excited. I had long wanted to learn how to weld. I figured that until I could get my hands on a MIG welder, maybe the boys could take classes and learn. And they did. They took welding in summer sessions and made some really awesome items that are now our treasures. One summer, Luke fabricated this cool, elephant table for our outdoor space.
When we went to our gala fundraiser at Denver Academy and they auctioned off a four-hour welding class with the school’s material arts teacher, we knew we would have to bid on and win that item some time in the six years we would be at the school. After several years of being severely outbid, in 2019 we finally did it. We won a lesson. Life got in the way, however, and our gift certificate (with a one year expiration) did not get used. Thanks, Covid-19. This year, out of curiosity, I messaged the teacher and inquired if he might still be willing to let us have our lesson. He enthusiastically replied that he would love to do it. We were thrilled. So, yesterday morning we had our class.
We arrived at 9 a.m. with a huge Americano for our teacher because an apple will only get you so far at that time on a Saturday morning. He geared us up with safety goggles, ear plugs, gloves, and welding jackets, and we started with the plasma cutter. Loved that. I’m not sure there is anything more satisfying than watching the sparks fly as you rip through metal like it’s butter. After we’d liberated some small shapes with the plasma cutter, he taught us about the MIG welder and we worked on our welding skills. It was difficult for me to get the right speed, but I did eventually figure it out. We practiced welding random, found-pieces of metal from his shop. Then we went on to learn how to use the angle grinder to polish our metal pieces. That was pretty damn satisfying. Not gonna lie.
After learning the tools, we had about two hours to figure out what we wanted to build to take home. We had to design it, cut the metal, weld it, polish it, and determine how to hang in our limited time frame. Kris, the teacher, had a metal frame in his shop that someone had already created. He told us we were welcome to use it if we wanted. We decided to design a mountain scene that we could put inside the open frame. We did some planning drawings and got right to work. Steve cut the pieces with the plasma cutter while I used the angle grinder to polish the pieces he cut. With his job finished, Steve started welding our mountains to the frame. About that time, our son, Luke, showed up and he helped me speed up the grinding process. I had a lot of pieces to work on.
In the end, Kris helped us put a couple rubber stops on the back of the frame so the art piece would not cause damage to any surface it is mounted on. I have to say the whole process was a blast. It’s important to keep trying new things, to keep creating and taking risks, and to keep reaching for things you think might be your thing. And it’s best to do these things with people you love and work well with, so you can end up with something like this:
Ever so grateful to Denver Academy and Kris Fritzsche for everything!
This One Time At The Olympics…
I am not normally a fan of the Olympics. I know. I know. What kind of person am I? But, seriously, I’ve just not really ever cared. I don’t mind watching (I don’t have much of a choice since everywhere you turn, there they are), but if they didn’t come around every two or four years or whatever, I would not be broken up over it. That said, there have been three athletes whose stories spoke to me.
“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
First up is Ester Ledescká, the Czech skier/snowboarder. NBC did a human interest spot on her, and she blew my mind. It’s one thing to be a world class athlete, but it’s another thing entirely to be a female, world class athlete who competes in not one, but two, sports. And Ester doesn’t just compete. She wins gold medals…in two sports. It’s awesome. What really spoke to me about the interview with her was when she was discussing how many people had told her she shouldn’t try to compete in two sports. They told her it is better to focus on one. They told her that if she attempted to focus on two she would only accomplish being middling at two sports rather than potentially exceptional at one. They told her it couldn’t and shouldn’t be done. Ester, however, had a the audacity to ask a simple question when people told her it couldn’t be done. She asked them, “How do you know?” And she did it anyway. Damn. I thought about my own life and how many times I listened to naysayers, never once believing in myself enough to stand up for myself and tell them what I knew in my own heart: “I got this.” So often I backed off the courage of my convictions and figured others knew what was best for me. I was wrong. I think every young girl (and boy) should know Ester’s story. Ester is the embodiment of grit, a woman who knew what she wanted, fought for it, worked hard, and did what others said couldn’t be done. She kicks ass.
“We are at our most powerful the moment we no longer need to be powerful.” -Eric Micha’el Leventhal
The second outstanding athlete is Shaun White, of course. I have been a fan of Shaun’s since his first Olympic appearance in 2006 in Turin. Shaun White is a walking superlative. He’s a joy to watch, the rare combination of hard work, creativity, enthusiasm, confidence, finesse, and passion. He elevated snowboarding to an art form, constantly pushing himself (and others) to greater heights, literally and figuratively. At 35, he showed up solidly against competitors almost half his age. Yes. He landed in fourth place at his fifth Olympics, but who cares? He’s Shaun White, dammit. What struck me about what I saw of him after his final run, though, wasn’t his graciousness but his heart. After receiving an ovation upon completion of his final Olympic run, after accepting hugs and kind words from each of his fellow competitors, Shaun did something more extraordinary than all of his physical feats. He let the emotion of the day take over, and he cried, not a couple quickly wiped away man tears but actual, ugly-cry tears. I don’t think I have ever been more impressed by him than I was in that moment. He showed his humanity. In fairness, he has cried on camera at Olympic events before, but this meant more. This was a man openly weeping on television for the world to see because he was feeling all the feels. And me being where I am in my life cried right along with him. I’ve got tears just remembering it now. Shaun gave the sport of snowboarding a firm foundation and a heart, and he proved that you can be a man and feel your feelings and show them for all the world to see. And that is a bigger gift to the youth who follow in his footsteps than his Double McTwist 1260.
“Life is not about how many times you fall down. It’s about how many times you get back up.” ~Jaime Escalante
The final athlete who wowed me this week was Mikaela Shiffrin. After falls in her first two events, events where she is usually the one to beat, she was visibly shaken. She was angry at herself, disappointed in her performance, and all-too-aware she was letting people down. But she rode the chairlift to the top of the Super G course and stood at the gate to face her fears. I can’t even comprehend that level of bravery. After her first two events, she could have simply decided not to compete any further. She could have decided that maybe the universe was trying to tell her it wasn’t safe for her to compete. Oh, the voices of self-doubt she must have been battling as she took that ride to the top of the mountain. But she did it. 3…2…1…and she burst from the gate to ski 70 miles per hour down to the finish. And when she finished in 9th place, she wasn’t disappointed in herself. She was ebullient. She was smiling. The relief on her face was there for the world to see. She hadn’t raced that race because she had something to prove to others. She had raced because she had something to prove to herself. She showed up to that race for herself and, in doing so, told the fear in her heart and mind to go to hell. She is so strong. I’m not talking her physical strength (although, holy crap, yas queen, you go, girl). I’m referring to her mental strength, the strength to fall in front of the world and get back up and risk it all again. That is what the world needs to see more of. The strength to look fear in the face and do the scary thing anyway. Mikaela, you are my hero this week. I will always root for you. Not because you’re my Colorado mountain girl, but because you are wicked brave.
I guess my admiration for these athletes teaches me these three things. I need to believe in myself and follow what my heart tells me because it knows me best. I need to be willing to open up, to be vulnerable, and to feel my feelings when they arise. And I need to look fear in the face to make forward progress. This is the way.
Live Now and Zen 