Category Archives: writing

Connecting, Connection, Embracing Unknown, Life Experiences, writing

From Fracture to Fractal

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Us at The Haven

For me, Haven is where I learned how to be relational—and real. I was fractured.

It brought me back to love. To loving. To creating, exploring, playing, and growing.

Before Haven, I was conforming, restricting, editing myself. Judging, separating. 

I often felt like I didn’t fit in. 

At times, I thought I was better than others—at other times, worse. 

I believed I had to be right, professional, smart, thin, flashy—wise or brilliant. Either profound or spiritual. 

But I didn’t know love back then.

Haven gave me a path to show up as I truly am.

Through breathing, and sharing what was happening inside me—how I was putting my world together, mostly based on past experiences and survival. 

Old stories that scared me or made me angry. 

And slowly, I began to realize: those stories weren’t true. Maybe they were once—but who could say?

Truth became important, but I also discovered something else: 

If I didn’t have to be right or wrong, I could share my story like an artist shares a painting—expressing how I felt in relationship to the world around me. 

And in doing so, I’d often discover that others had similar stories, or their art could support mine.

That made the moment freer. 

It wasn’t about facts—it was about creating.

Through my inner world, I could choose what helped me grow—or what kept me defended—and share that too.

I learned that when I spoke from a defended place, I blocked out new information. 

Or if something did sneak through, I’d just file it into an old, familiar box. 

But when I was in a growth state, new ideas would shift my perspective. 

My inner world would weave and evolve—like mixing paints. 

And that was fun. It was play. It sparked new activity and possibility.

I also realized I needed to face my old stories, scars, and stuck emotions. 

Without attention, they festered—like emotional cancers—messy, painful, and toxic to relationships. 

So I kept going. The process is ongoing.

I’ve learned the best way to live is by developing my capacity to relate— 

To my inner world, 

To the present moment, 

To the people and the energy around me.

It starts with understanding how I construct my reality— 

How to loosen the rigid beliefs I cling to— 

How to stay open to new possibilities, beyond what my senses perceive.

It’s about making space for difference—for people who are different—for a world that is complex and ever-changing.

And the foundation of Haven is opening to that possibility.

As my Haven journey has unfolded, I’ve come to see that everyone takes their own path. 

At times, that’s been hard. 

I wanted to intern “right,” assist “right,” lead “right.” 

But, like life, it’s not that simple.

There is some structure. 

There are core values. 

But ultimately, it comes down to three things:

Being present. Being relational. Being self-responding.

Never fractured just living as fractals.

Communication, Connecting, Uncategorized, Voice, writing

What Makes A Life

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The Hands That Touch Our Hearts

There are so many ways to gather input about a life.
Pictures, stories, social media, music, movement, art—these days, you could probably even feed it all into a prompt and ask AI.

And maybe that becomes the sum of a life.

But is it?

There’s so much about living that stretches beyond our sensory space and time.
Yes, I can gather loads of data and information about a business—and in many ways, that’s enough to create a strategy, a game plan that can determine success or failure, worth or value.

Maybe you can evaluate a company, or even a country’s government, that way.

But not a relationship.
Not a family.
Not a community.

Because of hearts. Emotions. Conflicts. Hidden agendas.
Constructed personalities that only slightly conceal our raw vulnerability.

All that messy middle—that’s definitely missing from a Facebook post or a LinkedIn update. Missing from business strategies and financial results.

A life—
A real relationship—
Is dynamic. Moment to moment. Always changing.

And we are so uncomfortable with that.
We want to control the narrative.
To limit the unlimited.

But that’s only possible when we finally surrender—
To the unknown.
To our ego.

And we don’t do that well.

Because surrender requires trust. Faith. And that is…

LOVE.

We want love to be different.
To be neat. Predictable. Manageable.

But what love is—
Is simply pure consciousness.
Which just is.
Everything.

That’s way beyond our sensory, dimensional selves to grasp.
And our intelligence?
It keeps us from letting go and trusting—energy, God, purity.

We keep thinking we can know it. Capture it. Control it.

But we can’t.

The closest we come is when we surrender.
When we drop to our knees and cry because we don’t know what else to do.
When we sit beside another and simply be—
As they shake, or rage, or cry. Or just be.

When, in a flash, we let go of our righteousness and allow the light—or new information—
In.

Those are the moments I think we come closest to knowing ourselves.
And each other.

Those moments, I believe, are what truly make a life.

The rest—
Is dust.

Vulnerability, writing

Day 4: From Miles To Meaning A Memoir

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How I felt Taking Healing Through Writing – yes!

A few simple prompts – a memoir? Maybe.

Last day – last class.

Rough but real:

A Moment in My Body

The sweet sugar and icy chill washed through me.

I had never tasted anything so wondrous. As I swallowed the liquid from the tiny paper cup handed to me, I turned to see the source.

Coke.

No way. And yet — despite my disbelief — I surrendered to the ecstasy of that syrupy liquid. It quenched my thirst, revived me, energized every cell in my body. I let myself savor it slowly, taking smaller and smaller sips to make it last.

Time stood still.

With my eyes closed, I crushed the empty cup in my hand and let it drop into the garbage container.

As I walked away, the tingling flavor still dancing on my tongue, I felt a gentle hum of satisfaction grounding me.

Then I noticed — the aches in my body, the quiet joy of completion.

An Insight That Changed Everything

I’ve come to understand that forgiveness isn’t really for the other person — it’s for me.
But it is relational. It opens a doorway between us.
It’s about adjusting my own mind, softening my stance, so I can truly see, hear, and know another.

That realization shifted something deep inside me.

When I fully grasped that forgiveness raises consciousness — that it opens my heart — something clicked.
It stopped being a nice idea and became a lived experience.
A tectonic shift in how I saw, how I felt.

Of course, I still slip.
I fall back into judging others — or worse, myself —
getting stuck in that old loop of blame, of right and wrong.

But when I let go of the judgment and lean into curiosity instead, something changes.
There’s expansion.
I notice more.
Not mentally — not with the mind — but energetically.

I sense it:
energy, frequency, sound, vibration — possibility.

What was stuck begins to move.
And then I realize — it’s not just the situation that’s been freed.

It’s me.
I was the one who was stuck.

And now, I am free.

From Miles To Meaning or Running to Real: A Memoir

Running was my joy.
Morning runs before work.
Evening runs after.
Weekends too.

I ran until I couldn’t run anymore.

The doctor called it a disorder.
The therapist called it trauma.
So I fought the demons — and the demons fought back.

My body was desperate to quit.
But my dog reminded me to keep going.

Eventually, I found a haven.
A space where I didn’t have to explain or prove why I was the way I was.
I just had to show up — be real, be honest, in the moment.

There, I learned to bridge the gap between the old chaos —
the drama, the trauma —
and something new.

I didn’t have to be right.
I didn’t have to stay wrong.
I could be relational. I could be real.

Relating, though — that was harder than running.
Running was easy.
Relating asked me to feel.
To face waves of sorrow, despair, heartache.

It wasn’t easy to share any of it.
But when I did —
when I let myself be seen,
or when I listened deeply as someone else shared their raw truth —
I felt something shift.

Held. Warm. Moved.

Those moments were sacred.
Lasting.
Connected.

Far more rewarding than finishing a marathon
or closing any deal.

Sure, pleasure can come in quick highs.
But becoming real —
becoming connected —
that gives something deeper.

Something that actually stays.

Communication, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Voice, writing

Helpless and Held: Parasails, Politics & Paws: Day Three

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A swirl of moments—captured through free writes and Feldenkrais. This piece began with a reflection on the year: three events and some sensory explorations. I followed, unsure where it would lead.

Forty minutes later, I found a path—one that offered comfort and clarity in a time of deep chaos and pain.

The events: parasailing, Couples Alive II, and a crisis at home—threaded together by a political landscape spanning three countries. Two I call home. One I visit often.

It begins here:

I didn’t know if I’d be alone or with others. Just two Spanish-speaking men on a boat, a parasail, and me. No conversation—just gestures. A few motions to get me buckled and set. Sunscreen. Sunglasses. A nod. And then—release.

The rope pulled taut. The wind lifted me slowly, then all at once. Up. Up. Away. The boat shrank. The shore disappeared. The air held me like nothing else ever had.

I could sing up there. I could scream.
I did sing. I did scream.
Arms wide open. The wind caught me—tossed me, popped me forward and back.

In a plane, that would’ve terrified me.
But here, dangling from a sail—I felt free.

More than free. I felt possible.

There was a moment—I touched the clip. Thought about unhooking. Not out of fear, but out of desire.
A strange call to fly solo.
And also… a pull to stay.

Not for safety. But for the two men below.
I didn’t want to cause them trouble. That mattered.

That same push and pull—between rising and staying—echoes now.
Just weeks ago. Days before the election.
Up north with Couples.

The Haven. Safe. Then the call—ZuZu was hurt.
Far from home. But wrapped in something solid.
A circle of friends.
Steady eyes. Open arms.

My heart raced. My jaw clenched.
I tasted metal—but I wasn’t alone.
I felt helpless. But also held.

I watched CrisMarie pace the floor, phone to her ear.
The possibility of ZuZu gone.
Or our dogs separated.
The surgeon’s certainty: if she survives, they can’t be together.

Others spoke. Stories of dogs. Of grief. Of connection.
Pain, yes. But it was shared.
Held.

Helpless. And held.

While back home, ZuZu recovered.
Friends gathered. Held the fort.
Until we could return.

Now, I’m back in the U.S.
ZuZu curls in my lap. Rosie snug at my feet.
Everything back to normal.
Close. Safe. Cozy.

And yet—helplessness stirs again.

Not about the dogs this time.
It’s my country.
The headlines. The rage. The noise.

That same bitter taste in my mouth.
That same rising panic.

But no circle of friends here.
The Haven still exists—but distant now.
What surrounds me is the cluttered, chaotic hum of a nation at war with itself.

Still—I remember the parasail.
Mexico. The beach.

I remember the moment of lift.
Rising above the mess. Not to escape—but to see.

There is a way to be with terror without becoming it.
A way to hold chaos and not unclip.

I can scream. I can sing.
I can let go without falling.
I can remember the air. The sky.
The clarity that comes when I stop gripping so tight.

I don’t have to drown in the headlines.
Or disappear into helplessness.

There’s a space between it all.
A pause between breaths.
A widening above the noise.

I can carry that space with me.
Back down.

Because this is still home.
The weight of ZuZu. Rosie curled at my feet.

The dogs are here. My heart is here.
And maybe—if I remember the wind—
I don’t have to leave to feel free.

Connecting, Connection, Voice, Vulnerability, writing

Felt, Not Held: Day Two

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I fear I won’t get my piece out for today and yet I have particpated more fully, taking a couples classes – one live and two of recorded through that all access. pass

One piece seems too personal to share as a blog post so I am holding on to it. Instead I’ll share this other piece – written and then crafted into a poem. The class was Writing Self-Intimacy – very intriguing to me. Here’s the poem:

Such an interesting question—
how does intimacy ripple?
Something in me doesn’t quite grasp it—
and yet, as I write,
a hush moves through my chest,
a soft bloom of sensation—
could this be the ripple itself?

Inside, it’s all motion:
breath as messenger,
bringing in the new,
carrying out the dissonance—
a surrender to the stirrings
that chaos brings.

When I imagine this inward pulse
moving outward—
it feels like waves,
sometimes gentle, like a whisper across skin,
sometimes wild, like wind tearing through still water.

My relationships feel this—
my dogs know the rhythm.
My wife feels the shifts too,
though fear sometimes stirs in her—
then, I feel the quiet plea
for control, or help,
as if my wave might wash too far.

Community…
That’s more elusive.
Sometimes I skip the people close by,
and instead, let the wave
spill into music, into words, activity
into distant spaces in Zoom windows
where I may be felt,
but not held too tightly.

And maybe that’s why
intimacy in community
can feel like a shore I can see
but haven’t quite reached.

Life Experiences, Vulnerability, writing

From Survival to Story: Day One

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I signed up for an online program called Healing Through Writing—a four-day firehose of classes that blend somatic practices with creative expression.

From the start, I could see the challenge. Live sessions, bonus workshops, all on Zoom—it was intense enough to convince me to go for the all-access pass without hesitation.

But now that it’s begun, I’ve found myself drifting toward excuses. It’s surprisingly easy to avoid sitting down, tuning in, and doing the actual writing.

So, I’ve set a gentle but firm intention: to post a blog each day, sharing something I’ve learned or something that stirred me—even if it’s small.

Because for me, this isn’t just about writing. It’s part of something bigger. A path I’m carving toward a more abundant life—one that feels whole, connected, creative, and deeply alive. The ink heart is my symbol for that journey ( remember I’m a writer not an artist).

Symbol for My Abundant Life – A little journey I am on and this course is a part

Day one, and already I’ve landed somewhere meaningful. My biggest takeaway? Just sitting with the question: What does healing mean to me?

Turns out, that’s a powerful place to begin. And maybe the first step toward the life I’ve been quietly reaching for all along.

Here’s my quick take:

Healing, to me, is the shift from survival mode into a space of creation. It’s when I begin to reconnect with life, with others, with myself—not just intellectually, but viscerally. It’s when I feel that connection is present, even if my senses or internal narratives try to convince me otherwise.

There’s a deeper knowing beneath all of it—that I am still connected, always.

When that sense becomes rooted in my everyday life, when I can live from that knowing and move with love and intention—that, to me, is healing. It’s living. It’s loving.

Connecting, Connection, Vision, writing

Inspired By Tracy & I am Not Alone

I am inspired by Tracey Chapman and this isn’t the first time.

Best moment of the Grammy’s was when Tracy Chapman joined Luke Combs to sing Fast Car.

That was a magical moment on so many levels.  White guy, county singer and black woman, musical legend. 

I watched the clip of Luke Combs talking about his reasons for redoing the song.  He loved the song, grew up listening to it and it was one of the first songs he played.  That’s something.

I’m not a music star, country or otherwise.  However, Tracey Chapman sure did influence my life and her song, Promise, was one of the first songs I sought to learn on the guitar. 

Tracy Chapman I believe has inspired many. Her songs speak to the soul and connect, across devides.

Now that this moment has happened, I am sort hoping Tracey may make more musical appearances. 

Sounds like she is a special woman who lives a life out of the public scrutiny.  Maybe not now.  With people just learning she lives in ________ (don’t want to add on so just ___) .  Her solitude might be shaken.  I hope not.

I have a story that she is still writing songs and music.  Maybe even playing for non-advertised audiences.

Her song writing and music remind me of my own writing – yes there are books and articles for press, public and broad consumption, but that’s not why I write and I am guessing never why she wrote, sang and shared.

I write because it’s sooths an ache or fills a deep need/desire to connect and not be so alone.

I don’t know for sure but that’s what I saw on that stage the other night.  Two amazing singers, worlds a part in many ways – bridging through a song.  All of us getting to share in that special moment.

I wish could invite her to the stage here in Whitefish, MT.  Wouldn’t that be cool.

Maybe that’s a LONG shot but in the meantime, I have gotten back out my guitar and I’m practicing my favorite Tracy tune: Promise. 

No worries I won’t share my version with you but here’s a Tracy version:

writing

My Safe Haven (s)

Most of you reading know I love The Haven!

Those of you who have been following me over the years also know writing is a very important part of my life integration process.

Imagine my joy when I discovered that there was also a Haven right here in Whitefish, MT and this Haven is for writers!

Chester and Andrew

When I discovered The Haven here it did not just show up because of writing!  I learned that Laura Munson, the NY Times best seller writer that runs Haven Writing Retreats was also the owner of one of my favorite horses at Stillwater Horse Whisper Ranch, Chester.

I knew we had to meet and I was working on my book, Crazy, Cracked, Warm and Deep.  So I took the Haven Writing Retreat.  It was awesome!

Still haven’t finished CCW&D but I have no doubt that retreat supported the completion of our book, The Beauty of Conflict, Harnessing Your Teams Competitive Advantage.

Both Havens rest fondly in my heart – so when the invitation came from Laura Munson to write a submission – What is Your Safe Haven – well I had to give it a go!!

This week my piece is being published!!!!

Yes – a formal publication of my more personal work!!!  How cool is that!  My Safe Haven

Of course I wanted to share through the many avenues I know.  To get out the word about The Haven – The Haven on Gabriola and for writers The Haven here in Montana!

Please read, please share and let me know about where your Safe Haven is?

Connecting, writing

Writing My Way into 2018!!!

I can hardly believe it is now 2018!

I had great plans for reviewing, reflecting and sharing some of my highs and lows from 2017.  But snow fall (lots of snow fall), fun and the holiday spirit pulled me away from my computer and out into Whitefish with family, friends and complete strangers enjoying powder and chair lift lines on the mountain!!

My plan was to either skin up the mountain to ring in 2018, or cross country ski, to put in my first 2018 workout.

I went to the Glacier Nordic Ski Hut to rent my cross-country skis.  I stepped into the small hut with at least 10 others waiting to get geared up.  I heard, “Well, we’re out of most of the women’s boots.” Frustrated, I stepped back out of the hut.  It wasn’t going to be X-Country skiing for me this New Year’s Day!

I didn’t bring my downhill ski pass, nor had I put my skins (traction material you put on the bottom of your skis to climb UP the mountain) in the car.  My big first 2018 workout wasn’t happening! So I headed home.

I opened my computer and decided I was going to write my way into 2018.

In many ways it was perfect.

I always imagine myself as being the great outdoor Montana woman: fit, toned, and ready to ski through the trees, skin up the mountain, or go horseback riding through the snow.  But really, I’m not that Montana woman.

Yes. I ski, mostly the groomed trails and in the powder, when we get snow storms like we have this past week.

Yes. I can skin up the mountain, but I am much more of a ride the chairlift up gal these days.

Yes. I love my riding lessons but galloping through the snow isn’t happening anytime soon. I’m working on trotting in the arena right now.

So it was perfect that I wasn’t able to ski the trails or skin the mountain to kick-off the new year.

Instead, I sat down to write.  Though I dream of being that uberfit, physical Montana woman, at my core, I’m closer to myself and my heartbeats when I am writing than when I am working out.

Don’t get me wrong. I plan to ski, skin, and go horse back riding on Bella (or Floyd) out in the snow at some point.  But writing is truly the path where I get to know myself.

It’s not that easy to admit, but maybe this is the year when I don’t have to prove myself physically. Maybe this year I simply get to enjoy who I have become.

I like that I’ll go ski or skin the mountain to meet people and not be concerned about struggling to keep up.  I get to just enjoy the workout and not be afraid to be the last one up.

And about that horseback riding…

The truth is I have more fun with the horses when I’m in round pen on the ground working with someone on their relationship issues than I do riding horses.  I’ll continue to work on my riding because that too is relationship building.  But my real heartbeats come from introducing more people to the amazing mirrors and heart-openers horses can be when we aren’t so focused on them but letting them mirror us!

So yes, it’s perfect I am writing my way into 2018. I think my writing is what will be most vital for me this year.

I’m already published author, which has been on my bucket list for many, many years!  I’m so proud of our book, The Beauty of Conflict out into the world Oct 31st!

Now, that means it’s time to deliver my more personal story, Crazy, Cracked, Warm and Deep.  Not necessarily to be published (Oh, my that feels like too much pressure!) but simply to be completed. It’s all there just waiting for me to pull the pieces together.

It is time to stop running away from myself and settle into the wonderful woman I am; to let my inner light shine.

Indeed, there are no accidents that I couldn’t ski, skin, or ride into 2018. No. This year is about writing!

I believe it has been my writing that has helped me become self-responsible, relational and build connections and community over the years.  Not my athletics or my exercise.

I may have wished athletics was my way, but in truth it’s not my legs or my muscles that make be great. It’s my heart and vulnerability that provide and reveal the best of me and that usually comes through when I am writing or working with horses!

Take care,

Susan

P.S. My 2018 word for the year is COMMUNITY.  It does seem perfect that writing is the way to ring in the year!

 

writing

Dark Spots Get the Needed Light To Live Forward

Today I get the honor of participating in my first writer’s blog tour! I have to admit I had never heard of such an event. However, as I took a peek at the other awesome writers on the tour before me and read their writing journey, I was thrilled to get a chance to share and promote other writers.

I was invited to participate by Lea Bayles.

Lea’s piece about her wild river lover was awesome! I found her words rich, moving and wonderfully human. Visit her site: http://www.leabayles.com/blog and read more!!! 7399966

Now for my own writing journey ….
Dark Spots Get the Needed Light To Live Forward…why I write.

When I was seven, living at camp with my family, I was gifted a baby bunny that had been saved from the camp lawn mower. I was thrilled to take the little being in my hands, feel its rapid heartbeat. I found the bunny a home in a box, which I made quite comfy with grasses, leaves, and dirt. I was so ready to protect and nurture the little being. I sat beside that box for hours watching the bunny breathe and sleep.

Late in the day, my Mom called me to go to dinner. We had to leave our cabin for the lodge. I would be gone for at least an hour or more. I knew I needed to protect the bunny from our dog and the camp cat. So I put the box in our car. Off, I went to dinner. When I returned, I found the baby bunny very still, clearly not breathing, yes, dead. The car had gotten too hot. I was devastated. I couldn’t find words for what I was feeling. The horror that I had killed the little baby bunny was overwhelming. I didn’t speak about it. I went quiet for days. I silently buried the bunny. I didn’t know how to come back from such a mistake and loss.

In the fall, when I returned to school, my teacher asked us all to write about our summer. On that blank sheet of paper, I reclaimed my heart. I wrote about the joy I felt with a new life in my care, the pleasure of creating a home for it, and the hours of being a protector. I wrote about the tragic choice to put the little bunny in the car, a decision made with good intent that went horribly wrong, and finally, the pain of holding that little lifeless bunny.

The piece wasn’t long. It was a series of simple seven-year-old words, with some words missing and some misspelled. Yet those words captured the life and death of my bunny and my emotional process. When my teacher chose to read my piece, and I heard my words, I finally cried. My life returned. The pain was freed to live forward.

Since that first piece, I have used writing as a path to process the stories of my life that otherwise would have shut me down. When I write my heart opens. My defenses drop, and the armor that I have used to survive, begins to melt.

When I was dealing with cancer at 24, I wrote to wrestle with the gods about fairness. When I was dealing with nightmares and memories from my childhood, I used prose to share the pain that was trapped in my cells. When I lead a Come Alive, I am holding a space in a circle for peoples’ stories. I write then to find my heart, clear my mind, so that I can stay present and connect with their world, not stay stuck in mine.

Writing frees my emotions, and clears my pain so that the dark spots get the needed light to live forward. Writing allows the broken pieces to reform and become art.

I have wrestled with whether or not to write a book, but my path seems to be more an on-going river of short pieces.

I had never called myself a “writer” because my written words were rarely kept. I’d share them in circles and with friends. In the sharing my armor would finally soften, and the stories would melt away. That still seems to be the heart of my purpose in writing.

4972425Maybe someday I will bring the pieces together, and a book will emerge. Maybe the pieces will remain fragments in a blog post, a newsletter, a poem, or a piece shared to honor a friend’s passing. I am uncertain. I just know I am a better person when I write. My defenses drop and my heart opens when I let the words find a place on a page. The cracks those words create, let the light in and my broken heart beats on.

The memory of a baby bunny’s journey in my hands is complete – life and death, joy and sorrow. No hero. No happy-ever-after ending – real, raw and messy, human after all.

Now for the super fun part of being on a blog tour – the three Writers I would like you to meet:

Meet Martha Jo: Dr. Martha Jo Atkins that is. She is all out loud and proud about death, dying, and grief. She helps grieving folks find new ways to be in the world after someone they love has died. She also helps people + businesses renegotiate and step into identities after big change or loss. Visit her blog and enjoy! http://www.marthaatkins.com/blog/

Meet Xanet: Xanet Pailet is a former health care attorney turned sex and intimacy coach, certified sexological bodyworker and Tantra teacher She works with women and men who are sexually shut down and helps them rediscover their sexuality and find more pleasure in their life. Read more: http://powerofpleasure.com/sex-advice/

Meet CrisMarie: CrisMarie has gone from Olympic athlete to Top Five Consulting firm to Actress, Writer and Coach. Her quest continues to be stepping more and more into her authentic self. Having gotten lots of practice, CrisMarie will help you reclaim your life and bring more of who you truly are to what you do to get the results you want. Visit her blog and be inspired! http://inspireplaycreate.com/

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