The Power of Risks and Chance

I've wanted to write this story for a long time now. So almost 30 years later... Here it is.

As an Incentive Program Manager, for an International Fortune 500 company, my job was not only to arrange all the venue, meeting spaces, transportation, food and logistics, but to find a speaker who could/would relate and motivate a national sales force. The company was experiencing a downturn in sales for the first time and morale was escalating downward too. 

From the Meeting Planners International list of speakers, I listened to a tape from a speaker who talked about a Little League coach whose team was down 0 to 3.  It was the bottom of the 9th inning and this was it. Gathering his young team around him, he looked around at all the defeated faces. He asked them, "Is it possible to win the game?" Everyone one of them shook their heads no. "Do you think any team has won a game being so far down in the bottom of the ninth?" Again, the desolate group, shook their heads no.

Grabbing his laptop, the coach did a quick search, turned the screen around and showed them that not only one but a long list of teams had came back in the bottom of the ninth to win the game no matter how far down they were. He asked them again, "Is it possible?" Their eyes lit up, and with a fire in their belly, the pushed on, determined to win. 

I hired that speaker and he delivered.  The changing energy of this sales force could be felt as the 
speaker continued to talk.

The speaker held up a 1x6 piece of board and started talking about the power of the mind to do seeming impossible acts, like breaking this board in half with only your hand. As he proceeded to ask if a woman would volunteer (there were only two in that group) to break this board. Both woman had taken Karate and that didn't work for him.  

He glanced around the room until his eyes lighted on me, the meeting planner. "Dawn, come on up here and let's do this", he said. Needless to say, I refused, but when the sales force started chanting for me, how could I not do it. By the time I got up to the the front, my knees were shaking. All I could think about was breaking my hand not the board. How I would humiliate myself in front of my group. How could I get out of this. 

The speaker started talking about Mohammed Ali when he would throw a punch, his aim wasn't on 
the face of his opponent for a knockout, but through the face and a few inches behind it. That's what 
made his punches so powerful. 

MEMORIES... and that's not the name of a song anymore!

Memories, memories... and that's not the name of a song anymore. It really bothers me when I can't remember someone's name or even a word. The worst is when I'm talking and I'm corrected. What I thought I said comes out something totally different.

My friends and I laugh at our memory loss. One of us will always fill in the blanks. Then we chuckle together about our "group" memory. I'm thinking it's not so funny anymore.

It worries me. Puzzles like Sudoku, scrabble blast and sequence games fill my life in an attempt to recover that brain function.

Fish oil was reputed to help with memory. I bought some with the right recommended levels of potency, opened up the bottle and about fainted. By god, they were horse pill size. A big gulp of water and a prayer that I wouldn't choke, but no. It wouldn't go down. Filled up the whole glass of water again and gave it another go. Well, I did get it down hoping all along that it wouldn't get stuck.

Had a great idea to puncture that huge pill and squeeze the oil onto a spoon. Worked. Swallowed with no problem and aghhh, gag. What a horrible taste. I'm talking FISHY at its worse. Tried everything to get that taste out of my mouth. No it seemed to linger on for hours. Then came the burp. Oh no. Here came that taste all over again.
I'm still looking at that bottle warily.

I tried Macha green tea, too. Didn't know that it was dried green tea leaves ground up into to a fine powder. Poured the hot water into the cup, added the right amount of the powder and whisked the heck out of it as per the instructions. Now mind you, it was first the color of a bright green chameleon. Frothed to become a lighter green foam that quickly dissolved to a putrid tanish green. Oh well. Ah, I settled down with my cup of memory tea. Took a sip ... what the heck, could grass taste any worse? I tried to add sugar didn't help! Maybe a little milk. Nope. Horrible hot crud. I could NOT finish it.

You know, maybe at this stage of my life, I'll just sit back and enjoy the quiet of my memory loss. Guess what I can't remember isn't that important after all.

A TIME TO DREAM

A good friend was talking yesterday about starting her dream and producing a solid business plan. Listening to her has inspired me to dream and to have a goal once again.

Important blocks of ten years weave in and out of my life - marriage, Arabian horse farm, international corporate marketing/communication job, traveling the world, owning a B&B, published author and columnist, RVing after retirement. Some overlapping the other. Indeed, it has been a great life.

Now, it seems as though I'm watching other peoples lives. I don't socialize. Not traveling. NOTHING (definition -a quantity of no importance) Nada, nil, naught, zero, nix, zip.

Sometimes I look around and think that I'm just waiting to die. Then introspective thoughts tell me, that's just not who I am. My Mother's grandfather clock sits in its place of honor in my house reminding me that time is a creative idea, not to mark off the days, but to dream.

My mother was joyful, happy, good natured, hard working and wanted more for herself and her children. Both she and my father were charismatic, optimistic, full of life people who believed in living life. Then again, that's a different story.

Two of my favorite quotes: one attributed to C. S. Lewis, "You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream"; the other from the South Pacific song, Happy Talk, "Talk about things you'd like to do. You gotta have a dream. If you don't have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?"

When you push the universe forward with your dreams, watch out because it will quickly fill your life with opportunity. 

You may not believe this, but while I was writing this blog, an email clanging notice appeared on my screen. It was the editor of the local paper asking me if I would be interested in writing a monthly article... a paid writing assignment. Now, even stranger, while I was writing the email back to him, my voice mail alerted me of a new message. It was from the Author House Publishing asking me if I would like to move forward on publishing my book.

My hour-a-day writing commitment is starting off with a resounding bang!

That Cold Hug

My heart is heavy this afternoon. I'm incredibly sad. Hard to walk. My cheeks feel droopy and my eyesight is blurring. What is wrong? I did have a feeling before I left to see her but I wanted to meet with the hopes of making a new friend. A friend who shares a love of horses. The conversation was awkward; hard to maintain eye contact. The highlight was the big warm blooded Hanoverian gelding. He was nuzzling and open. Just like all animals, the connection is always honest, non-judgmental, happy to be with you, comfortable. With a hug she says goodbye, but the hug was cold. Not genuine. Extending my hand may have set the cold mood, but the answering hug was worse. Was it me? Was I exuding the uncomfortable air that hung between us? That feeling won't go away. I'm just going to let the blue funk take me. From past experiences, I can't fight it. It always comes hard, sweeping, engulfing.

The sun is shining this morning, those puffy white clouds that make the cobalt blue sky even more intense. Blue skies this morning, blue funk last night. One call from a mutual friend led me out of the depressing feeling that engulfed me. Everyone hides things, weird things, shameful things, things we just don't want anyone to know about. I believe that we all can read the energy of others, whether consciously or subconsciously. That feeling yesterday, was it because I read a troubled soul? One that used alcohol to hide the emptiness, the boredom, the losses in her life? Or maybe it was mirroring my feelings? My fear, my loss, my boredom.

I'm pulling myself into the now of existence. The only place I want to be. "Surround yourself in the now," I say. "You can do it." Really isn't that hard, but it does take a great deal of effort. Not living in the now has led me into the past, experiencing all those horrible feelings over and over again. "Not anymore," I say. "Not anymore." The only life I have is the one I create from this point onward to happy, content, active feelings and the anticipation of what exciting event is going to happen now.

Part 2, "Something Wicked This Way Comes"

A blur, a shapeless black blur moving.  I saw it out of the corner of my eye. But when I look over in that direction... nothing out of the ordinary. Same furniture, same window, same bookcase.

I'm drifting back to a memory of the bad guy and the evil spirit blurs in the Patrick Swayze/Demi Moore movie, "Ghost."

"What are you?" I spurt out loud, then think to myself, "Are you crazy? There's no one here." Egad, I'm loosing it now. Talking to no one. Just shadows.

What was that? In the far corner of the cabin, I know I heard the floor creek. Now that my eyes are playing tricks on me, are my ears too? Holding back the urge to speak up again, suddenly I gasp for air as I have forgotten to breathe. The sudden intake of air seems to echo throughout the house, bouncing along the walls.

Clutching my sweater together, I can feel my heart beat. "Well at least I'm still alive," I think. Then turn towards another blur that disappears.

I've got to get out of here; just get in the car and drive away. But I can't. The snow's too thick, my car is stuck. I'll make myself a cup of strong coffee. Doing ordinary things will surely dispel my vivid imagination. Going over to the small coffee pot and filling it with water, reaching into the cupboard for the Folger's, I'm startled by lights from a car reflecting on the wall then gone into the night. No car engine running, I hear nothing, just the wind, howling and moaning. Did I say moaning? I'm loosing it for sure now. Slowly, I peak through the window curtain. The snow is so thick, I can't see the edge of the deck. Great. now what?

The gun that I always carry is in the car, outside, in the car that  is stuck in the snowbank. Too far away.

(to be continued, yet again)

You are not alone.

My brother, Johnny, died at age 23 of cancer.


For years, tears would roll down my checks whenever I saw someone who reminded me of him, until someone very wise asked me if I could still picture how he looked. "Yes," I said. 


He then ask me if I could hear his voice, see his smile. "Yes I can," I felt the pleasure of this vision.


He continued to ask me if I asked Johnny a question do I know what he would answer. Thinking long and hard, and seeing Johnny in my mind's eye, hearing his voice, seeing his crooked smile, I responded, "Yes, I do know what he would answer." 


Then, he replied, "Your brother is always with you. You can see him, hear him and talk with him anytime you want."


I have never forgotten that moment. I love you Johnny. You are... always with me.

OH NO, I KILLED IT!

Limb by limb

I am now an official Killer. Yes, Christopher, my tree cutter told me so. When I was trying so hard to keep the ratty raccoons off my roof, I put a loose ring of tin around my spruce tree. Over the years, I'd have it removed and put back on loosely. It worked for the raccoons, but it did kill my beautiful tall tree.

I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be a killer. Never had a killer thought, well, that's not true. There were the mean girls in Mission Beach Grade school that I'll never forget. After crying my eyes out, I did want to kill them. No, I really wanted to kill the words and looks they spewed out at me.

Standing on what?

I wanted killer looks in High School where I was friendly, but extremely shy and quiet. Too tall, bone skinny with greasy hair and acne, yes, it was not a pretty sight. By the time I went to college and help from a Charm School, Make-up and Hair training, Dance class, and singing lessons, (thanks Mother) I started to look and feel good. By the time I was hired by Disneyland in my Senior year of College, I had killer looks! My body had filled out, hair straightened and back combed, and that eye liner and eyebrow over my blond lashes brought out the tan California look. Going through the Disney Hospitality School back then, gave me  poise, confidence, and charisma when I interacted with people as a hostess/tour guide and in every job since.

As I got older, (like 23) the killer looks didn't matter, for the inner look was coming out. I followed my passion and went to work on on a dude ranch in Grant, Colorado, so I could be a horse wrangler. Even with all that college, all that charm stuff, all that hospitality training, in reality all I wanted was to be with horses! Go figure.

Christopher cut stairs to the top,
then starting at the top,
took it down in small pieces.

So now that I am THE tree killer, I've got to do my time. Every day I'll look out my window and miss my friend, the tall spruce. My other friends will miss the tall spruce, too. The Downy woodpecker that graced the frame of my window. The other birds who hopped and sang to the spruce, even the squirrel who will now have to find another ladder to run around on. 

Be careful what you do for there are consequences of your actions. Most of all, know that life is fragile!