Some people are travelers. They love going out into the world, seeing new places, learning new languages and discovering different cultures. When I see the photographs from other lands, I find myself curious and interested. However, I seem to be someone who is more inclined to travel the vast inner landscapes of the world.

For more than thirty years, a significant amount of my time has been spent sitting in a circle, listening to people reveal and share their stories. A majority of those circles have been in the same room. Sure there has been some refreshing of the carpet, the art on the walls and a new paint job. Plus, the ages and faces have changed over the years. But that circle has stayed the same.

For me, it has been the center of amazing journeys. The stories people share have taken me to dark caves, vast oceans, difficult interactions, impossible circumstances. The joys, sorrows, demons, and angels of those that come to the circle, are profound.

Out in the world, differences seem to be dividing us, separating us and there doesn’t seem to be a path to connect. Yet, whenever I arrive for the first night of a Come Alive at The Haven, I am reminded that we as human beings are innately relational. My experience has provided me with proof that people can, and do, find ways to courageously connect, even through immense pain and insurmountable differences.

Often someone will ask, “Why don’t you move the circle outside?” There are days where it would be quite wonderful to sit out on the land. Nature is an amazing healer and does often play a significant part for people during the breaks. However, I get sometimes it is the simple act of sitting, without distraction, in a circle that can lead to an opening that otherwise is all too easy to avoid, focused on the beauty of nature, we might miss the beauty of nature in another human being sitting right across from us.

Though we long to connect and relate, as adults, have too often learned to protect, guard and hold back. As people arrive the first night to the circle, it is clear that it takes time to relax that habitual armor.  Then someone throws open a door to their soul, sharing a long held pain that simply can not be kept hidden anymore, and we are off on a wild ride.

Whatever is presented is much like the picture travelogues. I see, hear, touch and deeply feel the rich, deep wonder of the human soul, longing to express, be seen, and be acknowledged. We are each invited to hear our own deep calling and response.

The sounds in the circle are never quite the same, yet there is a melody that plays through, and weaves each circle together to hold and reflect the wonders of being human. The journey is worth the effort, and always adds depth and new possibility to my own inner landscape.

Yes, I too am a traveler.

Here is a short video, click here to learn more about Come Alive at the Haven.

Life is presenting me so many awesome new opportunities to LEAP and enjoy the thrill of learning something new.

Since I turned 50 (and let’s just say it wasn’t this year…), I have embarked on so many new and fun activities. Yes, it started with biking in Croatia and realizing how much I loved stretching myself.

Next, it was the Whitefish Ladies Golf League and taking a summer to invest in learning to appreciate slowing down and keeping my cool as I went through the process of being humbled week after week as our team stayed firmly in last place and my game improved much slower than I wanted. Next up, skiing and discovering the joy of dancing with the mountain.

In addition to the joy I found in sports, I also stepped out as a writer and coach. I started my book. Okay, that has yet to be completed, but… just starting is huge. I write a regular article for 406 Woman’s Business magazine.

I completed my Martha Beck Coach certification process and stepped up to present at the MBI Summit with CrisMarie.  It was magical and fun.

We walked away from the comfort of a corporate referral firm, to step out with out with own voice and brand, The Path to Great Results: Oh Sh*T! to Aha for Teams.

Many of these things have not been easy. Much like learning golf, stepping out, with our own voice and brand, has at times been humbling and not as easy as we had hoped.

In some ways it didn’t seem that much of a leap to sign up for a year of Equus Coaching. I got a nudge to apply, and so I did. Without any horse experience, other than a weekend workshop with Koelle Simpson, and no real clarity about how I was going to be using this training in my coaching, I knew something was calling. It was as if all the new things I had been jumping into, to find more of myself, were steps towards listening on a deeper level, and this Equus Coaching was a calling from some place in my center.

Truthfully, I was terrified when I arrived at the first in-person weekend to launch our journey. After being accepted to the program, I watched the training videos in preparation for the on site event, and fully realized I was soon going to be regularly interacting with these magnificent animals up close and very personal. One of the videos was about taking vitals, including temperatures…you know where…

I tried to remember that I had taken up skiing and done fairly well, even though I had been terrified of tree wells and falling. If I could do that, I could get comfortable with horses!

I had one crystal clear objective for the weekend: stay open, be willing to be vulnerable and play. Okay, may be that’s three objectives!

I soon learned that my reason for ‘joining up’ wasn’t about leadership or coaching. No, what I discovered was something I had lost or shut down a very long time ago. My little girl showed up. Not the guarded and defended girl who had learned to survive long ago, but the little girl who heard music and truly believed that all things were connected.

I don’t know if all people experience horses the way I do, but for me they sing. The music is beautiful and like something from another world. At first I spooked myself with the sounds. It wasn’t a sound I would expect from a 1000 plus pound animal. Yet consistently, I heard some version of the music with each of the horses I had the privilege to work with. As I let the music guide me, I soon discovered the music of other things – people and trees.

I have been told that I have the gift of sound – it is my language. Honestly, I never had a clue what that meant fully until I heard the music of the horses and began to discover the interconnected notes between all living things.

I also remembered hearing that music as a child. Out in nature, and with my grandmother when she was dying. I remembered shutting it down because no one else seemed to hear the music, and I didn’t want to be that different. Sharing the music seemed to bring with it more pain, and I decided it was best to stop listening. As a little girl it wasn’t easy when people would laugh at my stories of the music that seemed so loud and wonderful. Little did I know how hard it would be to remember, and what a joy it could be now!

It’s still all new, and now back home, the music isn’t quite as loud. Frankly, I am not really clear what journey I have stepped out on. I hope I will learn to listen and utilize the music. But mostly, I want to allow that little girl to play and not have to worry if no one else hears the same notes. She’s okay, and the horses are free to sing to me anytime they like!

For those who are not so into the “Woo,” no worries, I am also learning ways to relate to the horses, and discover how they are amazing mirrors of our emotional landscape and are very willing to connect when we are congruent and authentic in our communication. This I would call the Wow!

Yes, I still imagine as I go forward on this journey that bringing the horses into our work with leaders and teams is going to be one of the outcomes. I am also aware that the horses may be the pathway to building the community I have been seeking.

I don’t quite know what that will look like, but I met new friends and even now as we have scattered to our various places in the world, can hear the sounds and musical notes we each started to play together. I think there is much more to come on this adventure and I look forward to playing!  At some point I’ll be coaching with the horses and will be inviting folks interested to join me in a session.  Maybe you will hear the music as well or at least get the honor of an amazing mirror.

Of course if you want some coaching now you are welcome to give me a call.  No horses – but there still might be some magic!!

Seven years ago at a workshop in Santa Fe, I met a woman who had learned to ski when she was fifty. I loved hearing her story because she hadn’t ever skied and decided to learn for her fiftieth birthday. She took two weeks off to go and ski every day at a resort. I loved her story, was inspired and intrigued.

Fast forward to 2008, us moving to Whitefish, MT and living with a wondrous ski resort right up the street. I remembered her story and right away wanted to take up skiing. But no. It didn’t happen like that. As the winters went by, there were all sorts of reasons I did not learn. I had knee injury and knee surgery. I was working too much and no time. It was too expensive. On and on. Underlying all the reasons and excuses, I really wasn’t very confident that I would or could learn. Then someone told me about skinning up the mountain and skiing down. It sounded so awesome. As an avid biker, my love is climbing, so this skinning idea was just what I needed. Great exercise and something that didn’t involve lift tickets, fancy ski gear and played to what were my strengths – going uphill!

Now I really wanted to skin up the mountain. But that did mean I had to be able to ski well enough to ski back down. So there were some more stalls in my plan. Until CrisMarie simply stepped in with her Christmas present: a private ski lesson, pre-scheduled for December 26. Suddenly, there was no excuse.

I went, and I was hooked. It wasn’t pretty, but I started to get the basics. I went back and practiced on the beginner slopes, worked my way up to immediate runs and finally the runs from the summit. I was ready to skin up. I called a friend, Traci Stolte, who is a pro at skinning and has one of the most positive attitudes I know and asked if she would take me out for my first skinning experience. She agreed!

The first date set was icy and horrible and we didn’t go. I thought for sure I was going to miss my window as the temperatures warmed up and we were getting busy with work. But I scheduled another opportunity, rented the skins and skis and got my butt to the meeting point.

Now, I will say skinning up that mountain was hard. Like I mentioned, I like biking up mountains, and I imagined it might be similar. But honestly, it was much harder. I got a blisters from the rental boots and was a touch humbled by the speed and quickness of my follow skinners. Traci had invited another newbie skier, Laurie, like me, to join our expedition. I had not problems with that. In truth, I think we helped each other along the way when Traci was easily going up, up, up – we’d take a break and complain about our blisters or share some tidbit about our lives that allowed one of us to catch our breath (usually me, but she graciously said she needed the break as well) and off we’d go, back up the mountain. Yes, I thought about dropping off and just skiing back down. But no, I did not stop. Instead, I humbly acknowledged that this skinning was hard and put one foot (well ski) in front of the other and kept going. I learned and I found my rhythm (which involved various stops along the way). I made it to the summit!

I was thrilled!

That thrill was awesome and lasted minutes. I soon discovered that skiing back down with my longer, heavier skis and tired legs was – well- let’s just say, not the picture of grace I had imagined. Traci and Laurie were great. They would ski down a ways and wait for me when I took a fall or two (okay three) and struggled to get back up. It was so like my life. Not pretty, but determined. Again humbling, but I was also proud of myself. I did it! Up and down!

I felt like a rock star when I took those skis off.

I will hope for a more graceful experience when I do it again. But right now I want to acknowledge my victory and enjoy checking learning to skin and ski off my bucket list.  Thanks Traci, Laurie, Linda (my ski instructor) and pf course CrisMarie who got me that lesson!!

I find myself wanting to be in a circle of my friends.  Instead I am sitting alone, listening to music and watching the snow fall. Tears roll freely as read the many words of loving for Ernie, now gone from this physical world.  I know I wrote over a week ago that I was ready to let him go.  Yet today, learning that he indeed he has moved on – I am very sad.  My heart a bit cracked.   

And – I am a bit angry.  Angry at crazy, cracked cancer.  That is a big difference between me and Ernie.  As far as I know he was never angry about his cancer.  I was.  Of course I know all the things I should think – it’s an opportunity, it’s an opening and what a wonderful experience of loving for all that were with him who shared and provided so much love.  Indeed all that is there.  But right now I am having a rush of pissed, angry and furious feelings.  Because Ernie was a damn good guy – as his brother put it so beautifully in a note out to folks – “Ernie was the most loved person I know”.  It’s true, since I last wrote about what seemed like his final day, a week unfolded with loved ones by his side (and Cathy’s) and people coming and creating circles of loving, music, tears, laughter and silence, much like the work he loved and so wanted to continue.  So that part is wonderful.

But – why did someone like Ernie have to go so fast.  I am not even going to pretend to answer that.  There is no answer that works or seems anything less than shallow.  I can not stand the, “It must have been his time” or “God has a reason’”  Well, I call BS.  There just is not a right answer to a question like that.  My better higher self does believe in both the physical and non-physical and that as a spirit having a physical experience, we do go back.  Truth is most of this past week I strongly felt and experienced the wondrous, hugh nature of Ernie’s spirit, free from that tight ties of his physical body.  Colorful, expansive and mystical sounds accompanied me throughout my day and I believe many, many others he knew.  I imagine this was his way of giving as many as he could a kiss good-bye.

Yes, some part of me believes all that.  Another part of me is in deeply sad and mad that another dear friend has moved on. Sad that I must say again, good-bye my friend!  .

Looks like the snow has stopped – maybe I’ll head to the mountain.  May be I’ll get a last taste of the flight of Ernie – now high above the gravity and weight of this world.  Love you, Ernie!