The Dash

The Dash

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Posted on: September 19, 2015 • 0 Comments

Last night in the Hostel was an all women slumber party! I am through my sleep in the same room with men and now my roomy is a woman. She got up early to look for bears and moose to photograph. Well, someone has to do it! I am doing all I can to avoid them. I hope that she will find them and safely take pictures so I can see them. There are two other amazing women here also. They have been friends since high school. They are on a 3-week Thelma and Louise journey. Everyone is such an inspiration. We are on this journey of life together. Everyone I have met and reconnected with along the way have been supportive and shared their own story. I am forever grateful for this experience. I have had the luxury to gift women with Womanly Journey bracelets along this journey! The way it touches their heart brings me back to the core reason I created them in the first place; to remind women of their greatness.

At breakfast this morning, one of my slumber party sisters told me about The Dash poem. It is so poignant that I have to share it. At this point my Dash is pretty awesome!

The Dash

by Linda Ellis copyright 1996

I read of a man who stood to speak

at the funeral of a friend.

He referred to the dates on the tombstone

from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth

and spoke the following date with tears,

but he said what mattered most of all

was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

that they spent alive on earth.

And now only those who loved them

know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,

the cars…the house…the cash.

What matters is how we live and love

and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.

Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left

that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

to consider what’s true and real

and always try to understand

the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger

and show appreciation more

and love the people in our lives

like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect

and more often wear a smile,

remembering that this special dash

might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read,

with your life’s actions to rehash…

would you be proud of the things they say

about how you spent YOUR dash?


Kristin Springfield

First time Hosteler!

First time hosteler!

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Posted on: September 17, 2015 • 0 Comments

First time Hosteler

I arrive at a beautiful log cabin to be welcomed by a wonderful woman, Beth. After I move in to my room shared with up to 5 other people, I realize that I am not familiar with the ways of hostel living. It is obvious I am in the right place, once I see the live turtle. After settling in I brought in a bottle of wine and asked my host, Beth, if she would like a glass. It was obvious at that point that I had failed to read the rules! Much to my delight, she let me break the rules and drink alcohol. Thank God! Yesterday was a roller coaster of emotions. Fortunately, Beth liked me and we struck up conversation and stayed up later than the other guests. When you have a private room, staying up late is not an issue. Sharing a room with 2 men that are already asleep is another thing entirely! Failing to prepare by laying out PJs, sexy sleeping socks, and needed toiletries to get ready for bed, led to great deal of noise from me while they were sleeping. That is okay, I was paid back with soft snoring and a brief bout of talking while sleeping. I smiled as I was reminded of marriage. The disadvantage was it would have been inappropriate to gently nudge my roommate to roll over. Fortunately, I just made believe the snoring was a noise machine. I slept great!

This morning was interesting as well. The guests woke at roughly the same time and met in the kitchen for breakfast. It was delightful. About 6 guests were from Hong Kong. My roommates were from Brazil, and Chicago. It was a great mix of kindness for breakfast. I had no idea how the cooking or food thing worked. Beth shared with me that she had simple breakfast items that we were welcome to cook for ourselves, which included eggs, coffee and a plethora of gluten-filled items. Fortunately, my roomy from Brazil was the resident expert and could show all the newbie guests around the food, utensils, cups, plates, and silverware. It reminded me of see one, do one, teach one. Tomorrow I wonder whom I will be teaching.

I came “home” after a long hike exhausted. Curling up on one of the couches in the living room to write and read while other guests did the same thing was delightful. Everyone is kind, considerate, patient, and comfortable doing his or her own thing. There is a perfect balance of talking and silence. This experience so far has been great, especially since I get to break the rules with wine! I am here until Sunday. It will be interesting what other guests I meet and where they are from.



Extremely vulnerable post

Here’s to Vulnerability!

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Posted on: September 15, 2015 • 0 Comments

Extreme Vulnerability Post .

I am taking another leap and sharing a glimpse into my personal pit. Today was a tough day emotionally. That is what this trip is supposed to do, heal the heart. Sometimes that is with tears. I stumbled upon an old journal entry from October of 2014. I am so glad that I no longer live in the emotional place described in the post. I am sharing to further connect with you. I hope you find some value in it. Here it goes:


I just want to earth to open up and swallow me. This simply hurts so very much. I feel sadness, despair, defeat, unloved, unacceptable, unwanted, a burden, hated, a nothing. My body feels heavy, tired, slow, lethargic, shaky, cold, headache, tight throat, floating, erupting with tears, and frightened, fragmented, extreme heartache.

What am I feeling? Despair. a great loss. sad. sorrow shaking crying like dying, like my soul is damaged and can’t be loved. Pain. such deep despair, nausea. My body feels sick, tired, in sludge, short of breath, the breath holding. insignificant, invisible, tiny spec of nothing and at same time without borders. It is as though I can feel everything. It all is so much. I just want to shut it out. Too intense.

What am I afraid of? That I will die. That I am so flawed. That I cause others to leave me. That my self is wrong, that I am a mistake. That the real me is unacceptable. I am quickly replaceable. I am afraid that I am so toxic to others that it is destructive to someone to love me. That it is unloving to love me, unhealthy and detrimental to others who love me. The good I offer is extremely overshadowed by the pain I cause by just being me. My existence is dangerous to others.

What do I feel is going to happen? Everyone and everything that I love will leave me. That I will be nothing, alone, on the streets, shunned, reduced to nothing of value to humanity or the planet. That I will become dust and everyone will rejoice. My body feels numb and dead already. My eyes get heavy, my voice becomes quieter. My desire is to be small and invisible for if I am not the world will punish me. The more I show up as me the angrier the world gets. That it unsafe to be me for others and me. For I cause so much disappointment in someone when I am me. I don’t want them to be mad at me. I want to be seen and heard with joy and companionship and support. Yet I can’t get that when I am me. I need to change to please someone else for I am annoying, a disturbance to them. I am too young, lack maturity, lack personal control. Go play alone until you can control yourself. I was the youngest in the entire family by 10 years in my home. I remember that sometimes it felt like I didn’t fit in. I was always behind. That annoying little girl that the parents loved and cousins were quick to be annoyed with. Always trying to catch up. Just couldn’t. Now here I am. All caught up now and on a second divorce. That is not what I wanted when I was trying to catch up!

My heart feels constricted, boxed in and tight. On the front side of my chest it feels like a knife stabbing into the box. Pressure rises and I simply want to be swallowed up by the earth. Pause and focus on breathing in love and light even though it hurts. Just keep breathing into the heart. Even in the Pit I know that I am love, I am loveable, and I am loved. It is sometimes impossible to pause and connect to that when it hurts. No matter what happens, my heart is radiant. I am radiant. I am love. I am light.