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Conflict & Empathy

Oh My Is She So Afraid

I love fireworks. I’m from Texas. I don’t love guns, though I intensely like them. Heck, I’ve had too much martial arts experience and training to keep one around. If it came to that… that’s another story. I love lightning, and storms. And, I love motorcycles. Harleys, 1000cc crotch rockets on the Isle of Man TT. If I need a boost, I simply go there on YouTube and gig it like I’m the one on the bike.

But, and this is a big but. Not like the song.

I have a German Shepherd. She’s part wolf. Can see it in the face and tail and pigeon-toed paws built for speed, and the glowing Goddess eyes when the light hits them just so.

I once watched her continue to accelerate across 3/4 of a mile on an NM mesa. Faster and faster, just closing the gap on a rabbit who ran out into the middle of a literally mile-wide open space. Stupid rabbit. Wrong way to go. Though, there’s Nature. It errs sometimes. Or, does it?

Closer and closer closing the distance, until on the other side of the almost-mile the rabbit disappeared under a big boulder. A Greyhound would have had nuthin’ on what I experienced there hanging out with my chainsaw paused watching her full-gate run across the mesa and DAYum did she go through the gears. DAYum did she go through the gears, faster and faster and faster. The longer she went, the faster she got.

Though, back to… loves and intense likes. I love fireworks. I intensely like guns. Motorcycles are da bom, especially Grand Prix types at The Isle of Man. And, lightning… though, so long as I’m in the city and not above treeline with the lightning going off in the snow electrifying the whole scene not just where it strikes… I love lightning, too.

My Girrul, though, Lyra. She isn’t afraid of much, as one would imagine. Big dogs are often strong enough to be gentle, especially of course when there’s a positive part of no bad dogs, only bad owners here. She rules. She rocks. She is sovereign.

I effin LOVE her intense gigs, even when they frustrate the hell out of me. And, during these 5 times she certainly does.

Though, my Sovereign Girrul has those afraid points, and I MIND them when they occur. I talk about legitimate fear versus being afraid and anxiety kidnapping fear to distort it into being afraid, though her legitimate fears ARE AFRAID. I respect that. She’s got some shit, from before I met her, and/or naturally, that talkin’ to it, won’t resolve. A dog’s diff than a partner. The comms together to work that shit out don’t apply. She is afraid of:

Fireworks.

Guns.

Certain Motorcycles. Harleys and certain tuned crotch rockets (feels like the over 200+ mph ones… the really cool ones)

Lightning.

Shuffling cardboard. Like when you move. (Shaking head sad)

She’ll be 12 next month, or so I think. She was a rescue, pulled from the streets. She was fully groomed, only wearing an $80 deerskin collar with no tags. Those gigs set off some alarm bells early on to let her story unfold, though that’s another story for another time. Suffice it to say… No. that’s a story for another time. You learn someone over time. That deserves its own post.

Afraid Points

These afraid points she has? Full-on. It’s almost Memorial Day. The lightning gig-goosed her yesterday. Tonight, the fireworks and motorcycles zipping around literally scared the piss out of her.

It’s not the mess I have to clean up, and Nature’s Miracle to remove The smell. It’s… DAYum is she afraid! She gets like Mark Hamill in Star Wars. If she could get any closer and had a light saber, she’d slice me open and crawl inside to get out of the frigid cold of her fear.

It’s intense. It’s important. If I don’t stop everything, she will nuzzle-push between my chair and side desk tipping anything there over, which also equates to a Malbec or Carmenere on the floor and bleeding through the papers, books, etc that were spilled.

Again, it’s not the mess that’s the conflict.

It’s… Nevermind what I love, like, or full-on dig. She is SO afraid. I stop EVERYTHING so she can get as close as possible and hear soothing me-sounds. All I can do is close the windows, turn on the air conditioner, and turn up the Sonos to Phantogram or the Civil Wars o Meg Ryan or BassNectar or 7th House Radio or Jame Horner’s epics so MAYBE, just maybe, she doesn’t hear the fireworks and motorcycles and lightning and guns so intensely, or at least so much… and console her.

She is an effin Cerberus when she goes at something, though I have to say she’s pretty reserved about parsing that out. Kids? Shaking head. Not a problem. 10-month old with yogurt on his face? Turn to get a paper towel, turn back, and one lick-tongue across her lips… clean face and a kid just bouncing beaming laughing. Phewww. When that happened early on, I got it. I got her character. Without Psychological Projection or Projective Identification or even literary personification… DAYum. THIS is certainly MY dog. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

I love her. My conflict frustrations and empathy considerations? Well, that’s an alchemy that will continue. When you can’t change or evolve or adapt something… well…

What cornerstone of what you can’t change in your life do you ultimately enjoy and HAVE to brace against?

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The Improv’s Confucius Say…

Confucius Say…

Man who have mosquito land on testicles learns very quickly violence not best 1st course of action.

Moira’s Blessings,
Jordan

Note; Moira is an asteroid in Astrology that rules the internal sense of time and timing. Call her your intuitive clock if you will. She is Chronos’ (Saturn/Kronos) Wife. Chiron is Chronos’ son. I’m not sure if Moira is Mom or StepMom. Mythical characters have gossip column gigs like that down pat, in spades.

Jordan’s Journeys is sponsored by ImaginAction

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(c) 2008, 2011, 2012, 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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Thank You Tuesday

Thank You Tuesday

THANK YOU to every single person who has read, liked, commented, not liked though read anyway, didn’t know anything about though took a dip anyway for serendipity and found something, liked just to themselves without commenting or liking and left with something valued, even if just the smile or a nod.

Thank you all who have given my work a shout-out via words or a link on their sites. I personally like links more unless it’s a feature, keeps it more ad-free cleanly, and makes more of a community connective tissue. Thank you to all of you who have shared my blog on Facebook and other sites.

After I returned from my extended radio silence, I have seen my readers grow from 140+ to just over 200 in the last 10 weeks. I was in a Great mood when I returned, refreshed, though I smile at how many times I smile and get to say Thank You out loud when I see someone enjoyed my work, that they received something for their time. That makes me proud, and not the hubris kind of proud. That makes me proud in the “I Cherish” kind of proud. Thank you.

Thank you to all of you wonderful people who have read, share, and continue to read my blog. Also, thank you for inspiring me to write this. I may just make this the 1st part of a weekly series to mention those who influenced me or who I just resonated with. The intent will be to give people some serendipity eField Trip selections to choose from. A bit like Marco Polo returning with a full hull, a bit like a travel agent. Heck, it might even step up my serendipity forays, and I’m certainly game for that. Maybe I’ll call it Tuesday Thank You Trips. Hmmm, we’ll see. Titles are tricky sometimes, I’ll let it gestate until closer to next Tuesday.

Thank you to all of you wonderful people out there who participate in my work in whatever way you do, every single one of you! Whether you’re vocal or silent, active, or more Of a spectator. I appreciate your presence here. They say it takes a village. I say sure, a community of people all accepted for who they are without reason or explanation or apology. If anyone here ever feels uncomfortable, please speak up. Sometimes that indicates growing pains… for you, me, or both. Like a good stretch that breaks down some connective tissue a bit to regrow it stronger over the next several days.

Thank you all for being here. I appreciate you for that.

Moira’s Blessings,
Jordan

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The Fedora.

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Credit to Dr. Eric Perry’s post Understanding the Grief & Loss Cycle for inspiring The Fedora. I was glad to be reminded.

Jordan’s Journey’s is sponsored by ImaginAction

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(c) 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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The Fedora

The Fedora

I remember standing in front of my Grandfather’s casket at the funeral home completely perplexed as to why I wasn’t crying. My Stepmom, Lynn, observantly noticed my furrowed brow and the confusion in my eyes as I looked at him. She put her hand on my shoulder, and,”Jordan, you appear confused. Care to share?” I nodded, never taking my gaze off of him, and, “That’s not him. He was full of life. He was a best friend to me. Why aren’t I crying. It feels disrespectful.”

She nodded and quietly leaned in a little. “Jordan, it’s ok. Everyone grieves differently, and often, everyone grieves differently each time. Reason can be unreasonable here. Keep doing what you’re doing right now. It’s palpable. I can feel it.”

I cherish that moment, have carried the treasure of that perspective with me since. It firmly felt to be Acceptance with the quaternity of the other 4 grief stages as its heartbeat. Then to now, that moment is still the same, frozen in time, like trauma is always fresh. Though, this trauma, this influence, was treasure.

That afternoon, back at their home, my Grandmother took my hand and led me into their closet. Once in, she actually pennied the door shut or some such, basically locking me in. “I’m not letting you out until you steep in there a bit. I know how much you loved him. I know how much he loved you. We were married for 66 years when he went. I’m not letting you out of there until you steep in that feeling you’re having. It’s strong. And, I’m not letting you out until you find that one thing of his you feel to keep with you. You find that keepsake, Jordy, and I’ll set you free, but not a moment before, not up for discussion. Go on. Find it. Find what you need.”

I was in there a while. And, then I saw it. His brown and green tweed fedora from his 1st trip to New York in 1927. I’d always thought it was so dapper and dandy and all those great words from the 20s, and I was in my Roaring 20s. For the first time, I noticed his initials inside. ERH. I had never seen them before in the hat as it was always on his head, or flipped off and plop-dropped on the hat hook inside their front door.

I smiled.

Plopped it on just so like he did with a little flourish on the brim.

Knocked on the wood door of my prison bars from the inside, rattled my own cage.

“Ok, Nanny.”

“No foolin’ around here, Jordy. I mean it now.”

“Nanny. Ok. I’m ready.”

She opened the door, emancipated me with my new-to-me fedora.

She had never left. Sat on the side of the bed the whole time listening, listening in powerful, unseen witness vigil. Thank you, Nanny.

Such support.

Such support.

Thank you Nanny & Earl, and Lynn.

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The Fedora. It’s my fave hat.

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Credit to Dr. Eric Perry’s post Understanding the Grief & Loss Cycle for inspiring The Fedora. I was glad to be reminded.

The 5 Stages of Grief are:

1. Denial

2. Anger

3. Bargaining

 4. Depression

5. Acceptance

Grief outline portion © 2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Dr. Eric Perry

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No intent for it to be free. The cost is value, later, on your time.

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Thank you!

ImaginAction.

Your Life. Your Value. Your Call.

ImaginAction

(c) 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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