Nose work for dogs is a team sport. No, the dogs aren't a team--you and your dog together are a team. And the biggest lesson for most handlers is to "trust your dog." A dog that knows how to "find it!" is going to find it and tell you. Eventually. But we humans like to second guess our . . .
I know there was a time when I was love-mad. But I can hardly remember it. Do you remember the kind of love that made you feel off the charts, manic if things were going well and then so low you were below bottom if things weren't going well? THAT kind of love. Oh, I remember it. Even if I can't . . .
I think this is very true. It's certainly been true in my life. Consider the times when you've been asked...or even REQUIRED...to let go of something important. Maybe it's a job you loved and lost. Or a relationship in which you loved and lost. A family home. Maybe it's letting go of controlling . . .
This seems like such a small thing, this being seen, doesn't it? But I've come to learn that it's not such a small thing at all. Because for some people, being seen carries risk of being judged. No one likes to be judged, to feel that someone believes they're lacking in...whatever. Sometimes, . . .
Maybe, like me, you have had experiences that make you wonder where conscience has gone. Because it seems to have disappeared in this current world of ours. Two really good doctors we see brought this to mind recently. Our GI doctor tells us his findings after a colonoscopy, right then and there. . . .
Could this be any prettier? I'm going to have one of these in my house at all times. This entire post is about peonies, so rest your eyes a while, and your mind, too, on these gorgeous blooms. Did you know the peony is the official floral symbol of China? It's deeply connected to royalty and honor. . . .
Who would've thought listening --real listening, without distraction --- would be such a rarity in the 21st century? That kind of listening that shows our complete focus is on the other person, that we are really taking in what they have to say, what's on their mind, their point, the spoken stuff . . .
My friend, Charles Brady, who is a real poet, wrote this brilliant poem about the Massacre at Bowling Green and our post-truth world. I shall say no more as the poem speaks for itself. Brilliance. Kentucky Waltz In Bowling Green, the skies were gray, that winter morn, yet children played, not . . .
This is the truth. Or, as they used to say, "Word!" Maybe we just assumed we'd be....fill in the blank. Maybe it's what our parents wanted for us. Maybe we thought our horizons were limited, that we couldn't be anything else. Maybe we got stuck in a rut. Maybe we've been on autopilot. Maybe . . .
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