Shhh, I Have a Ssssecret

When I was a little girl, maybe about 6 years old, our house sat right on the edge of a subdivision next to a canal. One day while out playing, I saw what I thought was a really cool rope lying off the side of the road next to the canal--I know, I know in the road next to a canal wandering all by myself at age 6? All I can say is that I know times have certainly changed because believe me, my mom is anything but negligent. Anyway, the rope stood out amongst the green snake grass (which should have been my first clue) as it had a red and black stripe pattern. So imagine my surprise, when my new found treasure wriggled right out of my hands as I picked it up. It almost scared the pee right out of me! Crying, I ran all the way home to my mom.

One might think that this experience would have taught me to stay away from snakes, but it didn't. At age 7, we moved to the small farming community where my dad was born and raised. There were no neighborhood children to play with. Instead of being surrounded by houses, we were surrounded by fields and pastures. The pasture we owned just to the east of us was better than any man made playground. The stream that ran through it, invited all types of creatures to come and make their home there--red foxes and raccoons--until the farmers set enough traps and then the pheasant population would increase--there were also killdeer trying to distract you from their nests, ducks, muskrats, gophers, mice, fish, salamanders, toads, caterpillars, 'water skeeters', and yes, plenty of snakes. Anything we could catch, we brought home as temporary pets. We would sometimes take a big 5 gallon bucket with us for catching carp which we would then transfer to the wagon that served as our makeshift tank. Other times we used the bucket to fill up with dozens of baby toads. They were the only pets that got to stay because they ate the bugs. The snakes on the other hand were a definite no no to bring home. My mom was and still is terrified of them--although in recent years since she added a koi and gold fish pond in her back yard she has turned her fear into a warrior's determination to rid her yard of all snakes for the sake of saving the fish she so enjoys. It's quite a sight to see my 4'10" mom out there with a shovel as big as she is chopping up snakes while screaming at the top of her lungs. Of course if I'm around, you can bet that I'm going to try and rescue the snake--mind you this is coming from someone who actually picks up spiders from inside the house to take them outside rather than smashing them with my shoe.

A few years back, my husband decided he wanted to get a pet for his classroom. After doing a little research, he decided on getting a snake. Ironically he ended up getting a red and black striped milk snake that looked very much like the snake I had my first encounter with. A couple of years later, our two oldest kids wanted one of their own to keep at the house, so we got a couple of baby corn snakes, and I've never been sorry. If you can handle the whole feeding issue (which I leave to my husband, thank you very much), they really are the easiest pets. You only have to feed them about every two weeks, although you can go a month, which makes for very little waste clean up. They don't stink. You don't have to find someone to care for them when you go on vacation. There's no training them. They don't chew up your shoes. They're inexpensive to keep, and believe it or not they actually do have individual personalities... I bet you're wantin' one now, are you not?

However, there is just one thing that I have found that sometimes takes a little effort--and that is that more often than not, it's best to keep them hidden--especially when you have clients with differing levels of potential snake aversion coming into your home to receive a little relief from their physical stress and negative emotions. I am not a fan of making generalized assumptions, but the fact remains that I've found most people just don't seem to share my enthusiasm for pet snakes. So I don't tell them that there is a snake living in the next room. Ironically I have one client who is coming for emotional processing, who I have come to find out has a terrible snake phobia---yikes! We're working through it, but the truth is, if this person knew, I honestly don't think they could even enter my house. I feel just a tiny bit guilty, but for the sake of the greater good, I'll keep my little secret for now (or rather until now).

Peanut and her pet snake "Zippy" when she was just a baby.

Isn't she cute?

A more recent picture of Spawn's albino snake, "Alice".

Come on, you think she's cool looking don't you?

But just in case you're still not convinced, and you need to find a happy place...click here

Some Vitamin D, Please...

Lately I've noticed little chickadees picking at the remnants of last summer's bird seed from the bird feeder in our back yard. Today, to show my opposition to the snowflakes falling again from the sky, I filled it to the brim with seeds, in hopes that it would encourage my bird friends to return. I love to watch them. This first sign is evidence suggesting that springtime is just around the corner, and I am sooooo ready for the warmth and beauty and renewed energy that it brings. And then I saw this little guy (above) nestled against the south side of our home waiting out the storm in the left over fall leaves. It know there's a metaphor waiting to be written about this, but I need some dang sunshine to fuel my creativity!


While everyone else is suffering from the flu (my deepest sympathies), I've been suffering from Cabin Fever. I've been anxious. I've been restless. I've been irrational and irritable. All the usual things that keep me occupied if not busy, hold no interest for me right now. I have several unfinished posts that I got sick of and stopped writing about half way through--we'll see if I make it through this one.

This boredom is as contagious as the flu. I can't tell you how many times I've heard my 13 year old complain about being bored. My 4 year old is about to drive me insane with her endless whining, crying and begging to do this or that from sun up to sun down--wait, did I just write sun up to sun down? Whatever. Earlier, she was asking me why we haven't set up her little pool in the back yard for so long. Right now as I write, she is sprawled out on the floor growling that she wants to go outside and blow bubbles. Even our dog Chloe is more hyper than usual--last night while sleeping and finding myself blissfully unaware for a time of the boredom that is sweeping through my house, I was awakened at 2:00 a.m. by her wanting to play--she was lucky I didn't banish her to the cold back yard!

Past experiences have taught me to keep declarations of boredom to myself, after all no one wants to hear about it, but I don't feel like heeding my better judgement. As a kid, to complain about boredom sometimes meant the threat of a tedious list of jobs that could be done around the house-which by the way is the very definition of boredom. As an adult, admitting boredom to my husband, I'm sure to be presented with the sure cure-all of all that ails you, if you know what I mean--if only it were that simple.

In times like these I tend to daydream. I long to travel and see the world, immerse myself in another culture, and experiences a different way of living. I think I might just have a little anthropologist gene in me. . . or maybe that's just an elaborate way to justify my desire to run away. Who can say?

All I know is that I can't wait to wander through green houses filled with flowers. I can't wait to bring those flowers home and get my hands good and dirty from planting. I can't wait to fill planter boxes with color and water them by hand each day. I can't wait to sit out amongst the color, listening to the sound of the water fountain, soaking up the sun while reading a book. I can't wait for my weeping cherry tree to be covered in pink blossoms and my bleeding hearts to bloom, and smell the honeysuckle vine. I can't wait to feed the finches and watch the hummingbirds drink nectar from the flowers I will buy especially for them. I can't wait to walk on the green grass and feel the warmth of the sidewalk under my bare feet as I push Minni in the backyard swing and pull her behind me in the wagon around the block. I can't wait to take a drive over the mountains. I can't wait to walk outside and look up at a clear, starry night sky. I can't wait to feast on tomatoes picked fresh from the vine and still warm from the sun. . .

S i g h. . .

Well, the good thing is, this weekend we'll be starting on our long overdue plans to paint and redecorate our master bedroom and bath as well as our girls' bedroom--and I'm actually excited about the whole process. Plus I have a date with Barnes and Noble today.

p.s. Considering it took me four days and several drafts to complete this piece of literary genius, it's obvious I just don't have the concentration it takes right now to write a post for Complimentary Friday--sorry, maybe next week!

Complimentary Friday-- A Different Course

Welcome to Complimentary Friday's. With this post, and in the Friday's to come, I'll be creating a space to throw out some different ways of thinking, offer broader perspectives, introduce the different alternative therapies I've studied and experienced, and chronicle my quest to find my own wholeness. It is a post that will be focused on a more holistic approach to healing. So, if you're interested, open your mind and read on, my friend!

My Journey Continues. . .

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how I got my start in alternative therapies. In that post, keeping the long story short, I mentioned that I had enrolled in two schools. Today I'm going to make the short story long, and write about how I ultimately ended up choosing the courses of training that I did.

One day while at Karyn's home, my eyes zeroed in on a book that was on her shelf called The Bright Red Bow. I took the book and began to read through it. I immediately recognized the author from a meeting I had been invited to several months before where she demonstrated an emotional release technique. As I was looking through this book, Karyn walked in, told me she had another copy and that I could keep this one if I wished. I took her up on her offer and read the whole thing before the next day was through. It tells the story of a woman and her journey to find healing and inner peace, and outlines the four step emotional process that she had learned and further devoloped. This woman, Pam Robinson, was currently teaching her personalized technique at a school she had opened up called The Institute of Healing Arts. I knew right then and there that this was the school I wanted to attend. However, we were short on money and I was concerned that if I were to go back to school it would need to be in something that I felt would safely offer me job opportunities to fill my time now that my youngest had just started school. So I ignored what I really wanted and made a decision to sign up for the largest, most reputable massage therapy school in our county. And yet I worried about the time committment and high tuition prices for this school. I wasn't sure how we were going to handle it all, but I had learned to be resourceful with our time and money while my husband had been in school, so I figured we could find a way to make it work. Beyond this, I held some pretty major negative beliefs about the physical body back then. My experience had been that my body was nothing but a burdensome betrayer that brought about a whole lot of pain, suffering, and weakness. In the end, I decided that this belief was precisely why I needed to enroll in a school of body work. My hope was that it would provide new experiences that would give me an appreciation and ability to find the gift that the human body is. At this point, I had just lost about 70 lbs and was still losing, giving me the courage I needed to move forward and face the issues that had caused me to put the weight on in the first place.

With about a week left before I was to start, I ran into a new aquaintance. In our conversation, she began to tell me about an iridologist she was going to who was also a graduate of the Institute of Healing Arts. As she spoke about this woman, I felt tingles spread through my body, and I knew I needed to call her--though I had no idea why. I called and scheduled an appointment right away. Our meeting was interesting--but nothing more. I had my list of suggested suppliments and was checking out a business card of a suggested body work I had never heard of before called Craniosacral Therapy. Then afterwards as we were chatting about my plans to go back to school, she said something like, "Can I ask you a question? After hearing you talk I'm curious as to why are you going to massage therapy school. It really feels like you have a far greater interest in emotional release therapy." I told her about my reasons, and she then proceeded to tell me I might want to check out a small school for advanced massage therapies called Cotton Tree Academy that had an emphasis in Craniosacral therapy. She explained how this therapy often includes emotional components and that it might be more suited to what I was looking for. I called and scheduled an appointment to check out the school the very next day. The minute I walked through the door, it felt right. I found out that this school met the requirements needed to get my license in massage therapy, but was not accredited, making the tuition less than half the amount of the other school and would only require one full day of classes per week plus clinic hours which I could choose to fill with the times of my choice. Then, I know this may sound silly, but just before leaving as I was being shown around the school, I saw a picture of Jesus hanging on the wall of the instructors personal therapy room. I felt the tingles again--it felt like this was the place I was being led to. The interesting thing is, the very next time I walked in that room the picture was not there, and I never saw it again.

Visiting Cotton Tree Academy (which I would link, except it no longer exists), got me thinking--and the more I thought, the more excited I became. Previous to this, I had already checked out the Institute of Healing Arts and found the time commitment and cost to be about the same as Cotton Tree. I realized that I could enroll in both schools for less time commitment and still less money even combined than the school I had originally signed up to start the next week. By the end of that week, I had called and let the first school know I was not going to be attending and had enrolled in the other two.

I started Cotton Tree Acedmeny of Advanced Massage Therapies in March of 2002 and The Institute of Healing Arts the following month. The class sizes were small, with only about a dozen of us in each. The instruction was fascinating, the instructors very gifted in their respective therapies, and my classmates were fantastic--many of which I have remained good friends with until this day. And although it was a very intense year, I wouldn't trade the education and experiences I gained for the world.

In the coming weeks I will be posting the specifics of some of the therapies I became trained in which include Craniosacral therapy, Swedish massage, Reflexology, Visceral Manipulation, Structural Integration (similar to Rolfing), Touch for Health, Lymphatic Drainage, and Acupressure, as well as the Four Step Emotional Process.

Next week if all goes well, I will be posting about Craniosacral Therapy.