phobias

As far back as I can remember, I've been terrified of needles. The kind that give you medicine. They hurt, but it has never been the pain itself - more the idea of the needle piercing my skin, that it might go "too deep" or "too far in."

This year, Keil Bay, soon to be 18 years old, started exhibiting a little "hitch" in the trot, not always noticeable, easily worked out with a good warm-up. But the vet suggested it would be a good time to start him on Adequan injections to help with joint issues.

Adequan itself is rather expensive. If you then pay the vet to come out to give the injections, it's farm call plus injection plus cost of the med itself. So the vet taught me how to do it.

I was physically ill the day he came to teach me. Had a sudden onset of a cold, intense sweating, butterflies, nausea. Seeing the needle in its case was hard enough - but watching as it went into Keil Bay's neck, via the force of my own hand, was ... nearly too much.

I suspect only a child of mine needing injections or Keil Bay needing them could have pushed me to try. The vet had me do everything from start to finish, with his instruction along the way. Once I got the syringe loaded and ready to go, I wasn't sure I could continue. The idea of pushing the needle into flesh was overwhelming. But I did it.

That day, with supervision. Then once a week for 3 more weeks by myself. And once a month since. Keil Bay stands like a soldier, still as a statue. He doesn't even flinch. I am astounded that a lifelong fear can be so easily conquered, mostly, I suspect, because there was a real reason to overcome it.

Keil Bay is moving so well these days it's been a joy to ride him. The Adequan is making a huge difference. Today was the day for this month's injection, and for the first time, I didn't feel nervous walking out to the barn with that loaded syringe. It's starting to feel almost normal. I slowed every part of the process down some, allowed myself to focus on what I was doing. How important it is to him, and to me.

november/kairos

I was waiting for this all summer - the month (for me) when forward motion kicks into high gear.

The writing is flowing fast again, Keil Bay is moving like a dream, and things I've been trying to accomplish for months seem to be falling easily into place. People I haven't been in contact with for awhile are reconnecting.

Today's riding lesson continued from last week's work. Keil pushed into his floating trot right off, and my seat stayed right with him. We rode poles on the ground and then raised them, high enough that Keil jumped one of them the first time through. What a kick to be airborne with Keil Bay!

In general, there's a lot of great stuff happening.

I'm adding to this in the midst of the morning writing and a chapter called kairos... which means fullness of time, and the right moment for action.

Fun to have the revision coincide with life this way.

claire in the sand

I'm working on a re-write of my first novel, and after posting the sandplay photo earlier this week, I remembered that for several weeks, back in 2004, I did a series of sandtrays from the "perspective" of my main character, Claire.

How perfect it is to recall that right now, as I delve back into her world, seeking deeper insight into who she is.














I'm interested to see if studying these photos two years after the fact reveals new information about Claire and/or impacts my revision.

working in the sand

One of the things keeping me busy lately is all the amazing work my clients are doing in the sand. To give you an idea of what this work looks like, here's a tray I did myself in 2004, in celebration of my "real" birthday, which comes only once every four years.

Sandplay therapy was developed by Dora Kalff, a Jungian therapist, via her work with the Jung Institute, Tibetan Buddhism, and Margaret Lowenfeld, a child psychiatrist. It offers the client an opportunity to create a world inside the boundaries of the tray, using figures and the arrangement of the sand itself, that corresponds to the inner state and is comparable to the dream experience.

Within the temenos, or sacred space, the shattered pieces of a life can be reassembled.

As Jung said, "Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain."

My own sandplay process in 1999 triggered the writing of my first novel, a long-held desire that had been buried for a number of years. I highly recommend this work to creative artists experiencing blockages or the inability to complete creative works.

samhain/summer's end

I have become fascinated with the cycling of seasons and the Celtic celebrations that follow them.

Here at our farm, November Hill, (named because this is my favorite month) the trees are brilliant, blazing with reds, oranges, yellows that seem that much more vivid against the evergreens. The horses are munching on acorns - huge numbers this year - and galloping/bucking/rearing in what I imagine is pure delight that the season of biting insects is nearly over.

Out by the edges of our property, if you stand and listen/watch closely, you can see the deer moving through the woods.

Wooly worms, three-quarters rust and a bit of black this year, supposedly indicate we're in for a long autumn and short winter, but the huge numbers of acorns seems to counter that notion.

Samhain meant to the Celts that the dark part of the year was approaching, and the doorways to "other" worlds, faery, the dead, etc. were open more than usual. It's a good time of year for taking stock of what you have, what you want, and what you can leave behind. On many levels. It's also a good time for listening.

I've been clearing spaces that have been cluttered all year: the garage, the tack room, shelves around the house. Along with that I find myself emptying my to do lists, and my mind of cluttering thoughts. Letting new ideas pop into that new space.

The still cold air of early morning really helps the process.