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Sometimes You Have to Fight Fear

Sometimes you have to fight fear, let it know who’s boss.

Trip of a Lifetime

Almost three years ago, in November 2017, I was in New South Wales, Australia. I wanted to study Reiki from Frans Stiene and at the time his next Reiki I class was in his home base, the Blue Mountains north of Sydney.

It was my first time in Australia and I enjoyed every minute of my short time there. The class lasted a weekend, but I was allowed an extra day to overcome the jet lag from my fourteen hour flight. Wandering around the beautifully landscaped grounds of the International House of Reiki Tomah Retreat, there were new garden vignettes at every turn. Most noteworthy, an adult tree house rose near a garden with camellias blooming just beyond. Next I found a small pond with koi. Wandering farther, I found a labyrinth of low growing shrubs. As I walked the circle, I wondered what the weekend would bring.

Unexpected Hospitality

The class far exceeded my expectations. And what fun to be the only American with eight Australians from all over the continent. Sunday arrived sooner than expected and we started thinking about heading home. Luckily, one of the other Reiki students lived in Sydney and she not only let me ride along, she delivered me directly to the front desk of my downtown 5-star, glass wonder Sydney hotel. That’s real Australian hospitality!

Modern Splendor

Similarly, the glass exterior was repeated in the room design. The bathroom was almost like one of those scenes in a carnival house of mirrors, where you think it’s the way out only to find, once again, you took a wrong turn. The difference was this hotel was elegant, warm and inviting. Something about the bathtub drew me to it. Maybe it was the marble tile edge, or the reflection of the soothing turquoise green plexiglas by the sink. I thought, what a nice way to relax before venturing out to find an evening meal.

In contrast, the prefab tub and shower combination at home was not at all inviting. But the non-slip coating on the tub floor and the rounded edge were just what I needed to hoist my plus-size body out of an Epson Salt bath I’d had a few months prior.

What Could Go Wrong?

I gently lowered myself into the warm water. The lovely scent of the bath gel and the softness of the washcloth reminded me what 5-star quality feels like. My arthritic knees were soothed and soon my toes were wrinkled as the water cooled. I reached forward and was surprised how easy it was to reach the drain release.

“What’s different here?” I asked myself.

I proceeded to turn my body sideways in order to get to my knees, which is the only way I can get out of the tub at home. But I couldn’t turn. The tub was too small and I was too big. Uh-oh. I sat upright as fear swept over me.

“I can’t get out,” I murmured.

“Okay, okay. Just relax.”

I took three cleansing breaths. That felt better. How about throwing my leg over the edge onto the floor? I tried, but I didn’t have enough strength to overcome the weight of my ample butt and I slipped right back in.

As I sat there, naked, damp, getting cold, all I could imagine was the shame of being found by the cleaning lady the next day. There it was, the look of disgust on her face. That’s when I started to get angry with myself.

“Dammit, there has to be some way I can get myself out of here.”

Will This Never End?

Sometimes you have to fight fear. Certainly the slight adrenaline rush of my anger helped me. I tried to get purchase behind me on the marble edge of the tub. My butt was off the bottom of the tub, my feet pressed against the end by the drain. I slipped. I got more angry. Through sheer will, I managed to find the strength to get up far enough to scoot one foot beneath me, pain searing through my knee. I fumbled myself into a partially upright position and managed to throw my left leg over the edge and onto the floor.

I lay crumpled on the floor weeping with relief. As I crawled to my knees, I lay my forearm over the toilet, gripping the side and was finally upright. I toweled off and pulled the plush bathrobe around myself, covering my nakedness, still trembling.

Finally Over

Exhausted, I found the menu and ordered room service; hamburger, fries and a Diet Coke. As I took my first bite, I closed my eyes, savored the texture, aroma, and charbroiled flavor of the best hamburger I’ve ever eaten.

Sated, I walked to my window and watched the lights come on as darkness descended. Right below me, across the street was Sydney’s Town Hall, a beautiful, historic Victorian building dwarfed by the towering modern skyscrapers.

“I know how you feel, old friend. But we endure, don’t we.”

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Hit the Reset Button in Your Life

How to hit the reset button? Daily we hit the reset button. We restart our phones and computers to clear out the memory. But do you know how to hit the reset button of your life?

What is Your Morning Routine

I dress, turn on the coffee maker and walk to the curb to pick up the morning paper. Sometimes I scan the front page, but usually I remove the plastic bag, place it in my storage bag to recycle at my grocery store and lay out the paper for those who read it. That’s right. I don’t read the paper.

If I can resist, I leave my phone and tablet to the side, take my coffee out on the porch and watch the sunrise. Then I close my eyes, take a 5-count, slow inhale. As I similarity exhale, calmness inside matches the calmness outside.

It’s taken many years for me to perfect this simple routine.

My First Step to Hit the Reset Button

Thirty years ago, my friend and watercolor instructor introduced me to The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron. Our small class of five women tackled the book together. We met weekly, which followed the chapters perfectly.

All of us starting writing our morning pages. Each morning we gathered our journal, favorite pens and began writing for thirty minutes. My first attempt started, “I don’t know what to write. This is stupid. I can’t believe this will do anything!”

In contrast, by the end of my first morning pages I was writing furiously. My thoughts cascaded from my mind, down my arm, through the pen and onto the paper.

Take Your First Step

Would you like to hit the reset button in your life? Would you like to begin a calmer life? I invite you to add The Artist’s Way to your current library. I’m a big fan of ebooks, but this one is much better in hard copy.

Can’t wait for the delivery? I’ve given you the first task, morning pages. Even though you’ve been up awhile, start your morning pages right now. Then order the book. And let me know how this goes. I really want to know.

Warmly,
Dawn

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Where the Crawdads Sing Book Review

Where the Crawdads Sing is the most recent book I’ve read. My husband, Wayne, had been encouraging me to download the Kindle version as we share our libraries. Wayne is an avid book reader and Amazon consumer. He is largely responsible for the success of Amazon. Yet he thinks anyone who reviews a book is a nerd. Well, I guess he’s partially right. In many ways I am a nerd. That discussion, however, is for another day.

My Review on Amazon

In preparation for this article, I copied and pasted my Amazon review of Where the Crawdads Sing into a Word document on my iPad. Unfortunately, I forgot to save it at the time. When I opened Word to check on a recipe, I inadvertently deleted the document. Dang! Oh well, I knew it was on Amazon.

Yesterday, I went to go find my review. The scale at the top of the review area showed clearly that the vast majority who had read it gave it 5 stars, as I did. Yet all the reviews on the first page were 1-3 star reviews. I read them all for at least five scrolls. I couldn’t really disagree with some of their points.

  • Unrealistic
  • Poor supporting character development
  • Never heard an accent like that
  • How could she have survived

By the way, I never found my review, even after looking at them in chronological order.

Why I Loved This Book

I identified with Kya, the main character, in many ways. Her love of nature, feelings of inadequacy in the outside world, and the abandonment she experienced all touched my heart.

The prose from Delia Owens during Kya’s time in her natural world fills the first half of the book. Even during the difficult scenes of home life, the feeling that calmness and beauty was available mere steps away from the front porch bolstered me to read on.

My childhood home was rural. It was isolated from other children, with only my sister for companionship. My parents were not abusive, yet I also enjoyed quiet alone time, discovering insects crawling along the ground or on leaves. My father taught me the insects to avoid and I spent hours looking at the Encyclopedia color plate of poisonous snakes. I suppose my fascination with books and information about nature is also similar to Kya.

Every instance where the detractors point out implausible plot, I had already understood the why; when Kya was taken from her environment she retreated into herself, I didn’t try to read aloud the accents – rather I ‘heard’ Southern accents I’m very familiar with. Finally, I read the story as fiction, giving the author carte blanche to create her reality.

Why Read This Book?

If you didn’t grow up in the South or in a rural area, read it to get a sense of that life. I remember as a child reading, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. My mind absorbed every word about the foreign world of a metropolitan city and it gave me a different perspective . Also, Where the Crawdads Sing will be made into a movie and as with most other books made into movies, the book is always better.

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