Pause…my favorite command because it gives us the room to expand. If life came with a remote control this would be my favorite button.
The other day Kirk and I completed the end of a long day with a visit to a family whose love for a huge horse has brought them through the past seven years of their lives with more questions than answers. At least, that is what they thought.
Kirk first trimmed the big guy about a month ago and as he put it, “we were mildly successful.”
Kirk made headway as he always does because he is infinitely patient and told the owners they may want to consult me to find out what is ailing the horse.
He has improved in the seven years they’ve owned him but he is still unpredictable and explosively mistrusting. That’s a hard one on a 2500 lb horse!
We entered the barn and Mr. Draft exploded out of the doors of the stall. I noticed that ALL of the barn doors stood wide open. His explosive nature was probably the reason why I mused.
Kirk entered the stall and the big horse grew bigger, his neck arching and his nostrils flared.
“Stop!” I commanded.
“Turn around immediately.” I said.
Kirk had passed the horses tolerance threshold.
The horse wasn’t mean or aggressive, but he was defensive and he conveyed to me immediately that HE was not going to be judged for his shortcomings.
I immediately received a picture of him as a youngster, smaller than all the rest, and a line up of men in uniforms looking the herd of youngsters over, commenting on his faults.
His owners shared with me the horse had come from the Amish.
The serious about draft horse people have standards and this wasn’t the first time I’d met a draft gelding with a chip on its shoulder because people never seemed to appreciate them for just what they are.
“He’s not big enough.”
“He’s not flashy enough.”
“He has no mass.”
These are all criticisms that the horse had learned to hear.
I will repeat that.
These are all criticisms that the horse had learned to hear.
Like humans, horses are subject to definition. Tell a human they are substandard long enough and they will believe they are substandard.
Men had guaged this horse and Kirk was a man.
I instructed Kirk to back away and to stand facing away to the wall. The horse softened and then blew. He arched his neck out and gently touched Kirk on the back. It took a few minutes but the communication had been made.
Kirk had paused.
The horse responded.
Over the course of our visit we learned that the big horse had indeed had a past sketched with disappointment. He had been sold by the Amish, a driving horse with flighty tendencies.
He flunked out of one home after the other until this one had decided to give him a chance.
I took over working with him as he opened up to me about his childhood and how he had been made to believe he wasn’t worthy of an opinion because of his lack of stature and presence in comparison to his peers.
This had gently eroded his confidence until he had no choice but to put his decisions together alone, in solitude and safety.
He had a tremendous amount of stress around his head and neck and he shared with me that because Amish choose only large work horses as their favorites that he had been worked tirelessly with ill fitting equipment. They knew he was to be sold sooner or later so very little time was spent on his actual comfort during training.
When it came time to trim his hooves though he gladly presented them.
A young Amish boy he said had been apprenticed to work as a farrier and the young boy had taken pride in training a second rate horse into a first rate farrier’s dream.
I laughed out loud because he was so communicative and even covered the issues of human relationships and his anxiety over being sold again.
Yes, the people had discussed this. He had been bought by the people for their daughter and she was going to college and could not take him with her.
They had another horse she played with regularly.
Mr. Draft knew nothing of the games and found them entirely too stimulating to relate to so he’d remained on the sidelines, content in his solitude.
Next, in a spew of images, he pointed out that need for communication for the girls Mother loved him and actually had bonded deeply with him. she wasn’t a horse person and doubted her abilities.
Further, there were communication issues that she had experienced with other loved ones and certainly owning a horse she had no business having woudl complicate that, wouldn’t it?
The horse shared some private family information and in several minutes had unraveled a mystery and prompted a conversation that led to some very lively discussion about not only his future but the future of the family as well!
It was fascinating to convey the messages from a horse nobody had understood in such a way that he made EVERYBODY understand!
Truly amazing and one of the most profound readings I’ve ever had.
His manner was so gentle, yet so wise and it was without any restriction that I began to work on him and even move quickly, trimming then rasping his hooves, he stood rock solid, something they said he never did!
I could only think that he did so because he had a bridge of communication allowing him to share the reasons he had hid in his shell. Sometimes this happens. Horses completely closed from human contact will go to great lengths to shield themselves, then in an instant, become soft and pliable, punctuating their gentle compliances with soft eyes and relaxed muscles.
Mr. Draft certainly did and it caught everyone’s attention. His quiet behavior was uncharacteristic. And finally, his actions were understood. Understood as a beacon we should never be prejudiced and more, gentle in our love so as to open the spirit and give one reason to trust.

How can a horse give you so many blessings in such a short amount of time? As Aemelie lay sleeping in the pasture I approached her and asked to enter her space. She accepted without a fuss and we lay together. I stroking her silky neck and leg and she snuffling my arm and leg with her lips. We lay there, completely at rest and peace and entertwined in one another’s thoughts. I had not seen Aemelie in two months, so this given time was precious, for both of us. Aemelie embraced me and fiercely laid back her ears at Crockett who had come over for a pet too. Aemelie wasn’t sharing me. She bobbed her head and Crockett backed off, his good natured feelings obviously hurt.
I used to scold Aemelie for such behavior but this time I let it pass and we continued to soak up the sun together, both of us with our eyes closed and then it happened.
Aemelie gifted me with a vision of us riding together sans equipment, in utter contentment and perfect harmony. She often does this in my dreams, visiting me with love, grace and openness. I call her an Angel because she obviously is one in the truest sense.
I visualized our being one and was thrilled. I’ve experienced this very same thing, open and awake, but this was just a “dream” or was it?
Aemelie is my guide in life. Whenever I am unsettled, unsure or upset, she comforts me. She seeks me out singularly, without fanfare and holds herself near me, a physical barrier between me and the world.
As my life unfolds and I experience the frustrations that everyone faces, I am extremely grateful for her friendship and her reverence and respect for our relationship. Aemelie is ethereal. She is present exactly when she needs to be and her presence in my life is unmistakably grand.
Today, a video was shared on my facebook page that literally asks a question I’ve asked myself many times. It’s an important question and one Aemelie has helped me with. As a sounding board for my emotions she has inspired, comforted me and yes, scolded me too. She is the guardian of my humility. As I lay with her I had even asked myself this question. The question is:
“If your life were a book, and you were its author, how would your story go?”

http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_purdy_living_beyond_limits.html?source=email#.T2U24ceZcWh.email

I watched the video and sat amazed. I envisioned all of my gifts and the blessings I’ve had. The places I have been and the goodness I have known. And the hardships I have experienced that cannot compare to others’ suffering. I felt grateful and renewed. And know that in my life…
My life definitely will include more sunny soft mornings in the sunshine laying in the pasture with my horse!

I laughed so hard today because I am getting response from my last posting…like I knew I would, to the effect of WTF?
I knew that my post would be “out there”. I was designed to be.
You see, in posting to my blog I ‘ve realized humbly that people read it to get insight to themselves and their horses. My life will be complete when I have delivered my message in such a way as to usher in the paradigm shift I desire for humans and horses. To accomplish this, I have to dig at the very roots of how people have been raised, their current environment and the projections of their goals, aspirations and dreams.  The experience we have in front of us with hores is nothing less than etherial.  Perhaps because it is my passion and my emotions are involved I am overly tuned to this need but whatever it is, I cannot ignore it. Everything else that comes in between is just a chore, a drain and a distraction, yet often necessary as a given result of my choices, my obligations and the very core of survival. However, said, its simple; Connecting with hores begins with connecting with yourself and ultimately, a power higher than ours.
This past year I read my horoscope with relish because this is my year to explore higher enlightenments, new ideas, theories and to challenge old belief systems. If ever there was a prophecy, this is one.
I have always felt connected to my Universe in ways that most people can’t comprehend. It’s like having energy bolts run through you and information coming to you that nobody but yourself can understand. Great composers of music have often described “hearing” the music even before they put it on paper. It’s the same with me and horses.  I have realizations and observations not yet even realized in our literature. Imgagine then, how frustrating it is for me not to be able to fully details these things for myself.  I have written dozens of books in my head, composed hundreds of videos and launched hundreds of demonstrations virtually but have not physical proof or very little of any of these.  Why? Because I must learn new programs, software, rely on others who are experts (pay them) and feed myself, my animals, take care of a host of 1 million things that need attending to every day.  Is this an evil plot? Or simply the manufacture of life that makes us who we ultimately are?
Sometimes the realization of all of t his that has left me feeling alone and at other times, sacred, unique and wholly accepted for what I am. The master of my end and brick layer of my destiny. Demonstrating these revelations has been my only outlet of contentment as I work within the stars opening and forging “old” ways of being able to communicate.
I say “old” because I am inventing nothing new. I am simply directing what we are as humans. Our purest essence. With or without horses, although I am glad that in my calling, it is “with”.
My growing up was unusual. My parents belonged to a church commune and we, as a group raised cattle, wheat, gardens, goats, chickens, etc. I grew up in a lovely valley that at one time was owned by my great-grandfather and seemed miles away from everyone and everything. That gave me a great deal of latitude to connect to my environment. In so doing, channels of spritual knowledge evolved.  It was a time of nurturing and growth of a mind that would learn to channel life lessons.  Lessons given in the rays of the sun, through the water, grass, trees and environment.  A pure transaction of all that we are connected to as Man. It would only be later that I would be corrupted by an outside world.  A world that would be invited into my life on the premise of “love”. You see, our communce accepted outsiders and then, with them came the evils of the world where I would experience judgement, redicule and other atrocities that would take years for me to work through. The Earth gave me itself and then when that wasn’t enough, its horses to teach me, guide me and ultimately to help others in this journey too.

At forty one years, I’ve seen the workings of the world.  I prefer my workings to be connected in nature.
In the book series, Anastasia, www.ringingcedars.com, this was the VERY FIRST TIME I had a good explanation of why I am who I am and feel like I do. I realized that unlike the worldly explanation that my gifts with horses are just “freakish” or my insight to better awareness and self improvement “high browed”, I realized and embraced that THIS IS WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE BECAUSE THIS IS WHO I WAS CREATED TO BE!
I am so connected to the equine world that I can literally “see”, “smell”, “taste”, and “feel” them and their emotions. Most people cannot say this but when you speak to children, they say it all of the time.  They haven’t lost their belief system. I hung on to it somehow.  I had to.
I’ve been labeled “a witch”. I’ve been told my dreams to share this gift with others is impossible, and I’ve doubted myself when others have doubted me. But I am so connected to whatever it is that is speaking to me in the mist that I can never abadon or ignore it.
I realize fully that my fear of never accomplishing my goals is unfounded. Its already been completed, it just hasn’t happened yet. In fact, this very fear is what is keeping me from achieving more.
The post I wrote titled, ENLIGHTENMENT, is about tapping into the very powers of the Universe around us to inspire us, enlighten us and cause us to be aware of the immense powers that we have helping us. To question the hard belief system we get preached to us every day. To think outside of the box, with our energy, not our logic. That as a chosen species we are in command of the essence of ourselves and others.
You see, I have always believed that horses are here not to be taught by us but to be teachers of us. I have watched them in so many ways exercise patience and even discipline upon man. I have also become aware of their longing to teach more of us faster. This picked up my enthusiasm seeing this trend. What is coming that we need to be more aware of? Man is being given a choice.
I’ve been working with horses for over 25 years now and I can honestly say that I’ve not repeated or exercised repetitition, EVER. Following the horses, they are leading us on an adventure that is pure, simple and breathtaking.
The key to tuning into that is to tune into the essence, even the smallest, slightest part, of your environment. That’s our homework before we even begin our journies with these magnificent creatures.
Mankind has lost its awareness of the buzzing of the energy that surrounds us every day and makes all things possible. Horses have not. I seen this manifested every day during communications with humans and horses.
So often we look to our horses as our outlet, our emotional stabilizer to be able to cope with work, friends, family or a number of other offenses. The lesson here is to also learn to lean on other things in our environments too and to accept that its ALL connected.
My questioning of the trees was my experiment with this and I found the experience unbelievably moving, my spirit was stirred. I encourage you to do the same. Find a place to lay in the sun, observe the trees, grass or whatever else catches your fancy and listen to the humming of our Universe and all that it has to offer and see if that doesn’t produce a mind blowing shift in your relationship with yourself and your horse. In the very least, its a good exercise in meditation and an opening of the intuitive nature that we all possess.

As a kid I spent time running naked through the woods, barefoot.
Where I grew up it was still legal to do that. It might still be! I can remember the warmth of the sun on my wind kissed skin and the giggles from my little brother as he ran with his head flung back, yelling, “Stinker Lich Poochie Poch!” A term of endearment we still yell at one another during pillow fights. I know, some people never grow up. At least we wear clothes now.
My brothers and I would eat dirt, bark, moss and make salad out of honeysuckle, indian paint brush, wild onions, grass and dandelions. I thought everyone did that.
What this did for me was open me to the bounties the Earth has to offer. It isn’t in the form we think of “bounty” as now. Today “bounty” is vegetables from the garden, grains grown in fields, or what the land can yield, pasture or support.
The Earth gives much more than that.
Yesterday morning I awoke to the warmth of the sunshine and it was as if the colors had brightened and become more crisp overnight.
I took a much needed walk and began to clear my head, thinking about the carefree days of my youth and what those experiences had really taught me.
The Earth is alive.
Not long ago two people who I am have to dearly cherish introduced me to a new book series. The Ringing Cedar series. The first book, which is the only one I’ve read blew my mind and took me back to these precious days and further, opened up a long ago closed door.
As adults we forget to breath the sweetness of the Earth, feel her wind upon our naked skin and listen as the trees beat messages into the wind.
Walking in the woods it came to me that perhaps the wind wasn’t so seperate from the trees. What if the trees actually created their own wind? If trees collectively and knowingly waved their branches, wouldn’t that in turn create movement of air?
It’s a heady thought.
As I pondered this I decided I would do a little experiment. It was based upon an experience I’d had years before.
I was laying on my back in the woods, staring into the heavens and telling a story about how I’d read one woman’s account that all things organic worship the Earth. She told of how with her minds eye she could actually “see” the trees and grasses in celebration of life, their needles, leaves and blades clapping in worship while humans, oblivious to their joy, carried on callously in life, unaware of the beauty surrounding them. She further conveyed that Man is actually the caretaker of all of this energy. A virtual “bounty” of joy, peace, love and energy and emotion, the fuel of our lives.
As I lay on my back telling this story I noticed that the wind had picked up, the branches of the trees seemed to clapping. Was I imagining things or were the trees clapping? I sent silent thoughts seeking confirmation, listening…and the trees silenced with me.
“Does the Earth worship us?” I voiced out loud.

The trees waved their branches, acknowledging, caressing and clearly, punctuating their answer to my question.  A warmth of emotion welled up inside me.  I couldn’t explain it.

“Did you feel that?” I said, incredulous.
There was an obvious connection to my awareness and my words and the “wind in the trees” seemed to be answering in kind.  It was a conversation.
“Do you think trees are really alive?” I squeaked. The thought was thrilling to me.
The wind picked up and the trees waved their branches…or were the trees waving themselves, creating the wind?
I listened, watched and tuned my intuition.
It definitely “felt” like the trees were giving me a message. I saw it. Connected with it and so did Kirk. We had just met and laying on our backs in the forest we were sharing our most joyful ideas of farming, tending the Earth and dreams of living in Nature.  And in so doing, recognizing our passions.  The purest form of our own worship of the Earth. Nothing is greater than knowing your purpose.

I tested the trees again.

“Do trees worship man?” I asked the air.

The trees began to move and the wind blew softly.

I can’t explain it but I genuinely felt that I was “plugged in”.  The Earth was answering my direction. Like the apple trees in the Wizard of Oz, they were alive, willing to give and helpful in our desires. 

I shuddered because it was a moment I realized what the Earth really is.  A perfect environment with an interchangeable lifeforce with our own.

Anastasia, the first book in the Ringing Cedars series, awoke this for  me again. Once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down. It underscored for me something I’ve been feeling for awhile. That the Earth is waiting for us to tune and that to do so isn’t all that hard.

As a nation we kind of get it.  Our government has set aside National Parks where people from all over the World can visit. Most of us can in some way claim an affinity with nature.  I haven’t met one person that doesn’t have this.  We farm because we find peace and fulfillment in our husbandry. But it goes deeper than that. The Earth actually “feels” our every thought, our heartbeat and longs for us to find its shelter and gifts, its “bounty”.  Its bounty is life.

Sunday, as I took my usual morning walk, I marveled at the trees.  Each tiny needle.  The moss, its soft and silky, dewey softness. And wondered, ”What if these had personalities?”

Strange thoughts by today’s standards, I know.  But as a kid I had my favorite tree.  One with moss at its base.  It gave me hours of its shelter and solace of its peace in times when as a confused Kid I took to its base and rested while my thoughts calmed and tried to figure out the meanings of life. 

“What if the wind is really the cheers of tree branches?” I thought.

The wind picked up and the trees waved…or was it that the trees had reacted to my question?

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Do trees create their own wind?” I asked.

The wind had slowed in between pulses of wind.

“Do trees feel our emotions?” I asked.

The branches moved and the wind began. 

I couldn’t beleive it.  I was not imagining this!

Incredulous I touched my hand to the moss and it wasn’t cool like I expected.  It was soft, warm and inviting.  Like it had changed temperature to invite me to sit despite the snow of the day before.  I kept my hand there and I felt pulses of energy.

“What if the trees were really sending messages?” I thought.

The trees picked up their waving and the wind increased, punctuating my thoughts.  That old familiar feeling from when I was a kid entered my soul and pierced my thoughts.  My heart raced.

“Do trees send messages in the wind?” I said out loud.

The trees picked up their tempo, this time excited more than ever.  Then died down again.  The timing was too perfect for this not to be REAL!

Was I on to something? 

The trees waved, the wind picking up.  This time, lingering, longing for me to understand that…THIS REALLY WAS REAL!

I didn’t need to speak.  They HEARD my thoughts.  Felt my heartbeat. Energy surged through me and at the same time my knees went weak.

“I will tell people.” I said.  “I will teach people.” I said and the trees beat their approval.

This may all sound very far fetched but I’ve been feeling this shift coming for some time.  That horses alerted me to this some time ago.  Wistful in their desire for me to provide them voices and for clueless people to wake up and understand their longing to be our etherial guides.

Expressing this, I can tell you that my first thought was to NEVER share this information. 

“People will think I am crazy!” I thought to myself.  This time, the trees were silent.  And I mean, SILENT! I realized that no, the world will not think me crazy. Its ready to hear this. I’ve spent a life time being prepared.  Beginning with my unusual childhood.

Had I not read Anastasia, I may not have understood this exchange with my Universe.  It was truly life changing. I found my spirit moved and I haven’t been the same since. 

Today I walked the pastures of a farm I will tend to one day. I took pictures of its rocks and had my soul stir as I put the pieces of a business plan together in my head on what will be needed to make this dream a reality.  The wind, which had been still, blew, as if out of nowhere.  Cows who had been silent mooed and in the middle of the day, I heard an owl hoot.

Owls have always come to me when I have been in need of wisdom, guidance and affirmation of decisions.

Later, when I was thinking again on the day this newest round of enlightenments…you guessed it….TWO owls hooted!  Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  It’s time.  The Earth is calling us to our higher selves.

 As clear as the shift that comes when I am working with traumatized horses I felt that this was right.  I was on the right track.  And I knew why. The timing of my introduction to the book had been perfect. The book outlines “WHY”  this information has been opened to me. Impacted me. Thrilled and energized me. The book is a must read.

http://www.ringingcedars.com/

Horses have a wicked sense of humor. I had a dream come true today. The opportunity to trim my Uncle’s horse. Now that’s a day I have waited for years to enjoy!
My Uncle has been hugely influential on my life and my career. His wit, wisdom and enjoyment in life always leaves me appreciative and humbled. At 70+ years of age he can still beat men half his age in an arm wrestling match and slips on his boots every day to go out and mess with his horses. Boot that can run fast! I know because he challenged me to a foot race and beat me!
Smokie, my Uncle’s beautiful red roan mustang stood resolute, happy to be my guinea pig. My Uncle wanted to see what I’ve been doing with my horse trimming.
What a perfect situation!
My Uncle, his horse, a formerly wild mustang he took home with him when the horse jumped inside his trailer, curious about what in the heck it was doing parked out in the middle of the wide open range.
You see, my Uncle is the true, blue cowboy. A buckaroo and fine horseman artist. Not the type of cowboy stereotyped for brutalizing horses. He respects them, loves them, eats, breathes a sleeps with them.
On his trip where he acquired Smokie he and his sons were out capturing wild mustangs for use on one of the ranches they were working. Capturing a wild mustang and making it yours is not illegal. If you can catch one, you can take it home. It doesn’t need to go through BLM processing to become your legal property.
I stood fascinated as he told the story about working amongst wild mustangs and as he shared how Smokie came to be his. He had roped a couple of horses and he and his son were working on horseback, gentling them down. Smokie, he said, just kept close to him even though he had no rope or any kind of restraint on him. At the end of the day they loaded up their horses and Smokie just followed them into the trailer. He’s been a member of the family every since. A bit of a legend too. Smokie is the steady eddie horse everyone in the family talks about. He is a family celebrity. And well deserving of the title and acclaim I might add.
Walking up to me, Smokie gave me a knowing bump with his head, telling me I had better make whatever I do good. His eyes showed his wisdom. I had a lot to live up to.
I picked up his hoof and started trimming, placing his hoof down on the ground several times to watch for his reaction. He licked a chewed a couple of times but despite the fact his walls and bars were really long his overall hoof condition wasn’t too bad. Score one for Uncle.
I trimmed back his frog and beveled back the heels, trimmed away some toe flare and stood up, satisfied with my work, but not done.
“Well now young niece,” my Uncle said. “That’s just what I do.”
“Wait dear Uncle.” I said. I trimmed the rear hoof under his scrutiny and then the next. On the front hoof he started asking questions.
“Why do you do that?”
I explained the function of the hoof, and why the frog needs to be in contact with the ground, affirming that Smokie has foundered and how not to have that happen again this year.
“Wait a minute.” My Uncle said.
“What did you say?”
I repeated my words and demonstrated.
He took my rasp and said, “Like this?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Where did you learn this?” my seventy something Uncle asked, incredulous. “I am learning something new here today and what you are saying makes sense!”
“I have studied horses.” I said. “And too, the information you started me with and ran with it.” I said. Score two for Uncle. Thank you Uncle.
Smokie bumped me in approval.

Today’s theme was tying up loose ends. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately and unless I get hit by another Peterbuilt sized family betrayal, I should be just about untied by the end of the year…2020.
New Year’s has never been my time for resolution. Every morning is that time for me, ruled largely by how much sleep I got the night before, followed by a strong coffee chaser. I graduated to that this past year. Tea just doesn’t have the wallop I need to get my bones jumpstarted in the morning any longer.
I can reason why.
Horses motivate me. But this year, while I am thoroughly enjoying the rigors of a heavy farrier schedule and the wicked pace of jumping county lines between Idaho and Colorado, I have not been able to ride, wallow in time long enough to smell their grassy breath or even brush one three days in a row for the past year. It’s been work, work, work. Granted, fulfilling work, but WORK just the same.
Sometimes it’s almost enough to make a person like me scream. I hate screaming. As a kid my hearing impaired Father implored us NEVER to scream. It was the tone he could hear and thus, the most terrifying for him. Even pushed to my mental and physical limits in life, I just don’t do it. Instead, I view these challenges as things dutifully meant to make me appreciate my fine health, strong character and calloused hands.
I pledged I would ride more in the coming months but as I trudge forward, tired to the bone and exhausted from the constant demands that are made on me I struggle, as most people do, with remaining positive, upbeat and optimistic.
I hope I am not complaining. I loathe complaining. So for the record, I am not complaining. Call it…a declaration of finding…order in the may-lay. I know I spelled that wrong but I am willfully being too lazy to look it up…even though I have a digital dictionary at my fingertips with shortcut key programming. Take that time takers!
In a recent psychic consult I was told to suck it up. My being tired was irrelevant. The next six months would be work, work, work. A time to get ahead and meant for greater reward. Use every minute as if it were my last to do so.
What part of the last ten years of my life…ugh…scratch, that, the last twenty…haven’t been!
Did that sound vaguely like whining?
This week with the tragic though predictable passing of Whitney Houston I was reminded of what it is that drives me. My God-given gift.
I can identify with Whitney’s acclaim, acceptance and tragic demise. Call it a full moon clarification of what it means to walk this Earth with an astounding gift that awes people and moves their spirit. I get that. I also ache for the fact that it’s clear she realized her gift wasn’t enough to maintain the gain of acceptance from people. When she was booed for winning too many awards (the heartless reaction of bored people who grew tired of the predictability of her winning) she sunk into despair. The same happened to Michael Jackson when his world crumbled around him and he was accused of crimes unfathomable to his consciousness. Their perception of being untouchable by human mockery was shattered for even being icons was not enough to save them. If anything, it was the very thing that condemned them.
People are cruel. I officially own the patent on the bumper sticker, “Mean People Suck.” Even with 41 years under my belt and several hundred past lives I find the callous nature of humanity unacceptable and baffling. Even under the shroud of being a hopeless member of the “I trust you but I hate you “ society I can’t understand why it is so commonplace in human nature to tear one another apart.
We elevate people to unattainable pedestals and sentence them to the pleasures of awe, acceptance and worship while waiting for them to fall where like wolves we devour their human weaknesses and ridicule them for failure. It’s tragic.
Perhaps it’s my tired mind playing tricks on me but where has our decency gone? We are all human. Connected to each other closely. Much more closely than we think. Did you know that Facebook has determined we are only 27 friends from knowing everyone? We think we are different but really we aren’t. Truthfully, I have proof. You know why we celebrate the talents of another then throw them into blame for failure or for just being better than we are? Because we all know that WE could be THEM.
Long live horses.
Horses don’t judge. They don’t berate, celebrate to sabotage or betray. They watch out for one another, build bonds, forgive unconditionally and teach us with their terrors and traumas.
Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned.
Have doubt? Listen to this, and then make up your mind:

WHOA! I am scaring myself! This evening I figured out how to record myself talking. This takes me back a few years to when my brother and I in our early, misguided years would haul our 5 lb tape recorder out to our tent and record ourselves trying to out burp each other. I always lost. Six years older than me my brother had size and sex on me.  We all know boys burp better than girls.  Still, the idea that someday I might sabbotage him with those cassettes never left me. If he ever runs for President I am pretty sure his constituents will pay dearly for the media I have stashed in my box of memories.
Tonight I am returning to that media and recorded a practice segment. Naturally, talking about horses is a passion for me but may not necessarily be a format my followers wish to hear.  They may not be half as excited as I am hearing my own voice.  However, I am thinking that this may at least be a forum where I can talk to myself and not have any arguments, or be beaten by age or sex. I intend to make regular installments if I don’t hear too many shouts for mercy and when I figure out the video thing, may torture all my followers with that too. The evil day has arrived where Karina has multiple outlets for her rants! All hail the Queen!

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“What’s it like to be turned on?” asked my client.

I sucked in my breath because I didn’t exactly know what he meant.  My mind raced as I played with his question in my head.

He was pretty good looking.  Perhaps he was making an offer?

He was also successful.  And single.

He stood there innocently looking at me and I stared deep into his eyes searching for a clue about the insinuation of his question.  I might be psychic but it’s still hard to read minds.

Come ons aren’t a foreign thing for me, thank you Jesus.  As a good looking female that works daily in a “man’s world” I get more than my fair share of propositions, offers, come-ons, you name it.  A woman that’s capable of training the pants off of any horse, making her own way and income, PLUS trimming OR shoeing, I can be an irresistable blank board to bounce questions off of.  Innocent and naughty.  Some want to do more than bounce if you know what I mean.  LOL  I’ve been offered trucks, trailers, money and more for my affections.  O the pain!Somehow, though, I am destined to share my affections only with the horses. That is my love, my passion.  My ex-husband once told me, ”If I were a horse perhaps you would love me more.”

 Poor man.  Guilty as charged.

I pondered this and how I would answer my clients question.  The answer is everything.  If his question were a proposition, my answer needed to be direct. 

A direct answer encouraging sexual play could encourage exploration of the same.  He was cute and single but I wasn’t interested.

Answer with the sharp tongue of a seasoned female and the conversation could be directed back on the focus of my visit.  The horse. 

I preferred that later. 

I continued to keep my eyes on my client and processed our exchange.  Was it getting sexual?  Or an innocent question of an incredulous owner?  Iget that alot too.  Comes with the gift.

Getting past sexual issues isn’t foreign, just uncomfortable if I need to work a horse more than once which I often do.  If there’s sexual tension, it gets complicated.  I once had a client grab me and kiss me in his kitchen.  His wife was my employer.  AWKWARD!

Plus, a Taurus, I am hopelessly loyal and my romantic judgement is easily clouded as evidences by former mentioned EX-husband.  But my client wasn’t coming on to me.  Damn it!

I didn’t say I minded you know!  I also realize that this phase will pass me by someday and like my 95 + year old Grandpa once said when we were working on his battery dead truck together.  I made the comment that replacing the battery, we could fire it right up.

“You know what happens when I get all fired up?” my Grandpa asked.

“No.  What?” I answered.

“ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!” he said with disgust.

I laughed. 

Looking at my client I could see he really wanted to know what its like being psychic with horses.

I’ve been asked to describe this more than once and I explain it this way:

It’s like being a light switch.  In the OFF position everything is dark.  Turn ON the light and everything gets bathed in light.  Things are easier to find and define.

That’s what its like when I “tune in”.

I get turned on.  I see images, hear words, whole phrases, and wants, dislikes, feel pain, know past, present and future, give advice, provide warnings, fix puzzles.  You know.  The works. 

Like plugging your USB drive into your computer. 

Once asked to describe myself with the brevity of what would fit on a license plate I replied with a laugh,  - “Doomed”.

This gift of mine hasn’t come without a price.  Just a lot of questions.

Every now and then I have to get out of my own head space, eat a few Jelly Bellies and do something outside of the ordinary. No, I don’t smoke pot, or jam ’shrooms. I watch YouTube videos. The wierdest, most fascinating, moving, hilarious, disgusting, mind-blowing ones I can.
Used to be people had the Enquirer or Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Now we have technology.
This past week I’ve been moving past a lot of personal obstacles. I actually had a person tell me this week that I am becoming the person I always should have been.
uhhh…….thanks, I think.
The phrase, “should have been” really did nothing for elimating the fear i have of growimg old and never accomplishing what I was put her to do. Some people have been in that headspace with me and faithfully cheer me from the sidelines. It also did nothing to quiet the fear I have of never figuring out the plan I need to initiate to go to the next level.
Nike and others tell me, “Just do it!” but just doing it hasn’t been extremely profitable for me because I probably interpreted that the wrong way.
Had I “just done it” with a few of the rich men who’ve graced my walk here on Earth I might have had the denero to do more but I’ve never been that kind of girl. My independent streak married my logical side and they emotionally eloped into the sunset leaving me the divorced spouse of an uncertain future.
Anyway, if that was too deep for you, the fact that life is short was brought home all to soon last year with my Mom passing.
When conferencing with my personal coach this morning we talked about elliminating one word from my vocabulary. That word is “struggle”. He finally pried that one out of my clammy hands and replaced it with something else. One helping of a whole lot of wup ass.
That’s going to be the name of my next Mustang by the way. WUPASS!
But I digress.
In contemplating some of my next moves I have initiated a few things that I know I am going to have to commit and follow through on.
During my conversation with my coach I found myself idly rifling through my briefcase like some bag lady that had misplaced her precious hoard of what nothings.
I realized that the conversation was idling on the dream I had several nights before. A dream I’ve had three times now. That disturbs me because its a replay of an event that I never want to happen.
I am invited to ride a very famous and talented Dressage horse at an exhibition. I am excited because I am promised that I will have plenty of time to work with him prior to the show. I have a schedule that I know must be kept. A time frame to saddle and ready the horse.
I arrive at the event, nervous because I am already running late on time. I get delayed by trivial things and I rush to the barn.
The horse has not been saddled. The troupe of riders is already in the spotlight warming up their horses. Everyone is in place but me.
One young rider shouts to me, his pony is misbehaving. I go to rush to him but he is shushed and I am told to go and ready my horse.
I realize that I can’t get ready in time because I am not prepared and the barn where my horse is being kept is too far away to allow me to change clothes, saddle and ride the horse with professionalism.
I politely shrink.
Everyone is disappointed. They had faith, excitement and expectations. I have let them down.
There is no excuse and then I wake up.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or dream analyst to understand what this dream means.
The fact I am in a dead sweat when I awake is my body telling me I better not keep making the mistake I’ve made many times.
Too little time in attention to details and too much time catering to everything else unimportant, important, justified, whatever. It doesn’t matter.
If I don’t initiate for ME, I will go nowhere, accomplish nothing and my gifts will have been appreciated, even recognized, but not utilized to the shining potential.
I want this more than anything in the world.
Remember, I am rifling in my briefcase for no apparent reason other than to divert my attention like some OCD patient that can’t stop washing their hands.
I quickly realize this when my Coach brings me back to Earth by telling me that he personally has seen Oprah and Lady GaGa walk on fire.
We’ve talked a lot about the patterns and behaviors of truly successful people and this caught my attention. I keep forgetting that my Coach is COACHING people of this calibre. The little girl from Montana still lives inside of me so I still am amazed when I am speaking face to face with those famous and those who put them there.
Anyway, I shared with my Coach that I find Lady GaGa fascinating.
WHOA! HOld on there! I know I may catch flak for that but truthfully, her freedom of expression in HER art is enviable.
My Coach brought me back to Earth by sharing a few secrets about Madam Gaga. She loses sleep just like I do worrying about whether or not her ideas will be well received and if she will be able to forward her message of acceptance, individuality and person strength.
I stopped rifling through my well worn brief case when he said this.
The difference he said, is that she doesn’t get distracted. She just does it. She has steeled herself against the ridicule of people that say she’s a heathen. She doesn’t listen to the twenty critics who tear her work apart because she knows that it took 5 million people listening to get to those 20 critics.
Pretty cool if you think about it.
It’s a personal thing but you would have to know how I grew up to understand why bringing information, especially cutting edge philosophy and method and techniques, to people in an approving way is so damn important to me.
I know at that moment, I did.
I renounce it! I dropped my rifling and mentall focused, forcing myself from an old habit to truly commit to my agenda, my calling and my passion.
You see, I am truly comfortable in the full illumination of my intuition. So much so that I am not committed to the dirty trench work my mind tells me is useless.
I am running to help that little boy on the pony who is already being looked after by a trainer and countless other horse riding villagers.
The door to the stage is right in front of me and lifting the curtain of how we work and treat our horses is ready for its debut. But it can’t happen without the host/star.
I was pondering this tonight as I logged on to YouTube. I always browse the listings of most viewed and the sidebar of video suggestions. This one jumped out at me and I cllicked on it. I am glad I did.

I don’t speak Korean but you don’t have to. One because there are subtitles and the other because the emotion reflected in this clip is umistakable. The boy showed up, had the courage to sing and showed the world that little orphans selling gum are really national treasures in disguise.

Some people doubt psychics. I know because I’ve been one my whole life. As I have struggled through this past year I have sought the advice of several talented psychics. I find the clarity they bring refreshing.
When my Mom was alive we would talk with one another about the powers of the Universe and I always came away enlightened. As a guide, none could be better than my Mom. Even as she was passing she was concerned for my spiritual well being. I irreverantly bantered with her often just to get a rise out of her. It was a fun game until she passed and now appears to be settling her promises to me to encourage me from beyond. She had a profound faith while mine is mediocre at best. That is why my meeting with Mr. Bearded friend alongside the road has shaken me a little.
You see, I also asked my Mom to prove to me heaven exists.
Mr. Bearded went on and on about our path to salvation so naturally I am hoping my sacriledge is not taboo up there. I still must be who I am until something further changes.
If you read my last post, Trip on THIS, this is a continuation of that blog.
The night before I picked up my stranger friend along side the highway I had consulted a psychic. I do this about every 4-6 months. It’s amazing to get overlap information on prior readings. This is validation that I am on the right track and that the psychic on track with my path. I use different psychics at times to get validation that the information I am being given is correct.
The night I spoke with Lani from PsychicSource I was searching for some answers to questions having a tremendous impact on my life.
Lani is also a medium and i wanted to see if my Mom would come through. She did, loud and clear. Thanks MOM!
At the end of my reading Lani said, “you need to pay attention to numbers. When you have a significant encounter, look around. The numbers you will see will have meaning.”
She also shared that this apparently was coming from my Mom.
So, after I met my bearded friend and had that experience it hit me. I needed to look for numbers.
The clock in my truck read 5:17 when I dropped him off.
Then it occurred to me. The mountain road, more like a trail, had been marked with the number 492.
After blogging last night I was reflecting on the event when it hit me that I should research that number.
I did and it led me to the yeard 492, which was a leap year, then the Julian Calendar. Apparently the number has a basis in shamanism.
This hit home because Lani had told me I needed to become more proficient in light working, astral projection and spiritual endeavors.
I followed the link as it applies numerology and found out that numerologists believe we have significance in our names.
The link I inspected gave me a great surge of confidence. It outlined my attributes specifically and accurately.
Yeah, I know. I’m TRIPPIN!
I thought about including the information in my last blog but truthfully I needed time to digest this.
How in the ???? What the ????
It was almost too much. But moments like these have come often this year so reading through the link I voiced thanks to my Mom and the Universe for coming to me in a way that I could embrace and understand. Its all rather extraordinary.
And worth sharing.
The link to the numerology site is:

http://spiritlodge.yuku.com/topic/1892/t/Numerology-Special-Letters-In-Your-Name.html

I am not done with my research yet. I instinctively feel that there is more to it. I expect my numbers to appear and as they do, I am going to play them in the lottery. After all, I do pray.
My Mom would be proud.
I pray every day that God would allow me to win the lottery so that I could prove money does not make one evil.