2015 has been a period of great transition for me. The year prior had left me feeling overwhelmed, burnt out and skeptical of humanity in general. A handful of treasured friends and family were battling demons of both the mental and medical variety (and continue to do so). While no regret or second thought in doing so, I did however find myself taking on the additional stresses of helping those around me cope and the grief manifests when mortality makes its presence felt. The flood waters were rising and I was barely treading above water. Angry, frustrated and frazzled I committed to making a concerted effort to work on “me.”
While I’m still under construction, despite the struggles still existing I have found a new inner calm. Every day I make time to meditate and reflect. I burn incense, play with “rocks” and listen to Indian sitar music. I limit my exposure to social media succubus and read nerd non-fiction. I tend a garden and grow flowers, and take delight in roasting in the Florida sun while doing so. In short, I’m slowly becoming one of those creepy Birkenstock wearing hippies you find lurking the aisles at Whole Foods.
Thus, I found myself this evening sitting out in my garden, clutching my rocks and burning my incense. Of course, this was after 4pm. so I was adorned in my finest Boston terrier pjs (sans over the shoulder boulder holder), flip flops, and wet freshly shampooed hair. As I watched the dragonflies and birds, I suddenly got a burr up my backside. I wanted to climb a tree.
Somewhere, my voice of reason was sitting on the beach in Aruba, because I found myself surveying my property for just the perfect specimen. Knowing full well that if I should end up in traction or a body cast, my boss/friend would be propping me up like “Weekend at Bernie’s” and my behind would still be grooming; I decided to go for it. In a completely sober moment, I hurled my triple digit weighing, bad back, sciatica, flip flop, pj wearing, no bra, crotchety old self right on up that tree.
While this gorilla scaled up the tree, the peanut gallery appeared in the house windows to watch the spectacle. Both children shrieked with a mixture of delight and slight horror. I did make sure to reiterate that 911 may be required eventually. No call required though, and I was able to find the perfect limb to sit and relish in my short lived triumph.
Up the drive come my husband and a friend, returning from their high seas fishing adventure. I am mortified, for a multitude of reasons and scamper down as quickly as my less than nimble self can. With his typical dead pan manner, my husband asks “Have you been drinking?” Of course I imparted that I hadn’t, and then frantically ran to the refuge of the house. While I tried to regain some dignity by putting on upper undergarments, clothes and putting up my wet mop of hair, I was able to hear the man-children conversing outside. Of course they were giggling over my plight, and my husband explained all my “tree-huggin, hippie dippie, zen stuff.” Then his friend of course asked what he thought about all of it. Without a beat my sweet, loving husband said “I don’t care what she does, she’s a grown-ass woman, but I will say she can’t bitch when she’s meditating!”
My husband’s wonderful wisdom aside, I did reflect on my moment of insanity. You are never too old or unable to just go for it. Examples have cropped up everywhere when I did examine it. At trade shows when you see old school veteran groomers attending continuing education for the first time or taking the plunge into competition. When the risk is taken to create a new product or procedures to further our industry, the spirit of “just do it” flourishes. Old dogs are capable of learning new tricks! Our industry will continue to evolve, whether through legislation, development of new techniques or styles. Embrace the moment!