Don’t Help Me. Please.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
Decision time.
Do I take my dog out front in my pjs and pink fuzzy slippers to bless “his” fire hydrant or let him roam free in the backyard?
We’ve been a little overprotective of Milo ever since he broke his foot this summer while chasing an intruder. Especially since his tendency is to take off like a bat outta hell if he sees a squirrel or bunny. Yet, his foot had healed nicely and it was early, cold, and damp.
I kept an eye on him as he patrolled and watered the garden beds.
When he disappeared into the overgrown woods, I went to make my smoothie. Trusting he’d bark when it was time to get his portion. Mid-smoothie, I was prompted to look outside as I witnessed him leaping over the greenery and streaking toward the side yard. It was such a full out run that I went out on the deck to investigate.
My mind scrambled and I couldn’t understand why two black and white creatures were nose to nose in my yard.
Within seconds I was screaming “Milo, No!”while watching two snarling creatures locked in a battle. In hindsight, I realize my stress response had diminished my frontal lobe functioning. I was terrified that Milo was going to be bitten in the face by this creature.
Seems I forgot all about a skunk’s secret weapon.
I saw the moment Milo got sprayed in the face and his valiant effort to go in for one more snarl. I’m sure the burning was too much for him as he ran in a panic, rubbing his face in the grass. My extensive vocabulary changed to “Milo, Come!” as I ran along with him.
As he streaked by me on the deck, I saw his look of panic in his blood red eyes.
He’s quick and efficient. I’ll grant him that. In his frenzied state, Milo blessed the carpets in 3 rooms with that skunk’s parting gift before I caught him. Knowing I had to wash out his eyes, I leashed him and dragged the poor beast to grab towels and upstairs to the bathroom. Not even letting him pause for another wipe of his face.
As I ran the water, my entire focus was on protecting his eyes.
We were in sync as he brought his face under the warm water, flushing out his eyes. Quickly laying towels over the bathroom rug, I sought the dog shampoo. Only to find we had none. I grabbed my liquid soap made of plants which was good for sensitive skin. Not so great for de-skunking, but okay if soap got in his eyes.
Keeping up a constant stream of soothing language while lathering Milo allowed me to calm us both down a bit.
As my system reorganized and my higher order thinking came back on line, I realized a few things. He stunk. I stunk. My house stunk. And his eyes were clearing up rapidly. Once he had his roll about on the towels (and my bathroom rug) he was fluffy and a bit less stinky.
Leashed, I took him to the kitchen while I called the vet. “Watch his eyes.”
I looked up how to get out skunk smell from a dog, my rugs, and my house. Just too complicated for me in that moment to do by myself. When I saw he was still shaking, I sat down and did a Body Code session to clear the trauma. No surprise that first up was the physical-emotional shock, unbalanced adrenals, and other relevant reactions. I treated myself as well while we moved through the protocol to help my system rebalance.
It worked well for both of us.
Next, I found the best rug cleaning service for stinky rugs and arranged for a thorough job three days hence.
With all my tasks done, I made peace with what had rearranged my day and that stink which was well entrenched in my nostrils. We took some sniff and strolls. Then sat outside on the deck for hours waiting for my husband to return from a trip.
Welcome home, lol. I quickly headed out to buy skunk shampoo and get my hair triple washed at the salon.
After a second bath that evening, I’d like to say Milo isn’t a skunk pup. But, I’d be lying. Eventually he’ll reject all that oil from his system, but not today. You might be gung ho about coating your dog in a skunk defying mix, leaving it on for 5 minutes, hosing him off, and repeating the process. But, I’m not.
Our house has very clean rugs, towels on the furniture where skunk pup rests, and a calm dog who continues to keep watch over his domain.
I recognize the power of Energy Medicine techniques such as The Body Code every week in my office. And I saw its potential to help both of us quickly process the trauma of our skunk encounter. We’re all quite calm and tolerant of the subtle, but lingering stink.
Milo could write a testimonial for The Body Code, but he’s too busy patrolling the yard as the apex predator he believes himself to be.
I won’t disabuse him of this notion. Yet, I will check the back yard before letting him out in the early morning. If I can assist you in processing the challenges of life, old or new, with any of the Energy Psychology or Energy Medicine techniques I know, please reach out.
It’s safe now ‘cause I no longer stink.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
I recently found myself thinking about activism. About the many ways we show up for what matters to us.
As I considered this, three memories arrived. Rapidly, as if they were part of my contemplation.
The first was a conversation I had with a woman in my town. She was giving me an update on her recent gathering with other mothers protesting against gun violence. I was interested as we had explored what mattered to her as she approached retirement. Protecting children in schools and on street corners mattered, so she joined with other moms who cared about the same.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
Eight years ago, I traveled to Costa Rica for a week-long retreat centered around ayahuasca, breathwork, yoga, and deep inner exploration.
Like many people who are drawn to these experiences, I went seeking something. You might call it a Divine encounter. You might call it awakening. You might call it healing.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. I only knew there seemed to be a place people spoke about. That place beyond ordinary life.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.”