Three Wise Men

Joy, Trauma Life, Three Wise Men, Release, Valor, Clarity, Inner Child, Higher Potential, these are all essential oil blends I have been dousing myself with since last Thursday.

Calming, Kava Stress Relief, Women's Energy, Breathe Easy, and these are teas I have been downing daily.

Nightly yoga, added meditations, a couple of phone rants and email vents, add those to the new ritual.

I went to have my hair trimmed on Thursday and she cut off 5". My hair, that I have been working hard to grow out to one length for almost 5 years, is now up to the back of my skull.

Surely the words, "I'm not ready for short hair." "Let's keep it all one length." "I don't want hair like hers or yours, I don't want it that short." "Just clean it up." would have been fine clues as to just how short I did not want my hair.

She had a notion of some wispy things in the back. I didn't understand her concept so reiterated, not short, one length.

Several minutes into the haircut, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a fairly long clip falling to the floor. I asked, "How much are you cutting off?!" It was too late. She had already cut quite a bit off in the back.

Oh, it was not pretty. When I asked her what on earth possessed her to do such a thing, she told me, "I was listening to your hair." She then proceeded to tell me how she did the same thing to her sister who yelled and swore at her but who called her three days later to say thank you. I assured her we would not be having the same experience.

I had to go back the following day to have something done with the silliness she left on the front. I guess after my shock of how short the back was, she decided to leave the front longer to "frame my face." There was something else in need of framing I'll tell you. Her mother intervened and she took over and did her best to make something useful of what I had.

It was truly traumatic. It kind of still is. I went in for the usual trim, the same thing she's been doing for the last two years and I left with a cut that not only did I not ask for but had I wanted short hair, this would not be it.

The worst part was that she just could not say "sorry" and zip it. She had to keep going on about how it was a misunderstanding because she told me about the wispy things. She just couldn't own up to her very grave error and that was terribly frustrating.

So, I'm doing my best in accepting my hair as it is. As I venture out people are noticing and commenting on my new look. It's hard to say in a cheerful tone, "Thanks!" I just don't feel it.

But here's the thing...my comb is wide toothed to untangle longer fine hair. My hair drying brush is big for you know, hair. I have big clips and scrunchies. I have hair towels.

I discovered that I don't need a fraction of the shampoo I used to use, not even. Hairdryer? It's practically dry when I leave the shower. A hair towel? I have nothing to flip over and wrap up!

Yes, you could look at those and say those are the positives and that it will grow. And you know, I usually look for that silver lining in everything. I'm just not there yet. Just not.

When in doubt or when making a big change, confirm confirm confirm!

Healing a Heartache

Larry and I are in our new home and we are happy, comfortable and so pleased with the remodel results and having air conditioning at 85 degrees.

At the same time we both are feeling a profound sadness. An emptiness that aches and aches on.

On Friday, the day we were moving, in a matter of 3 hours I was faced with the most shocking and unexpected and extremely difficult decision of kissing Tripper one last time as he went off to horse heaven.

So much of what we created here at Om Ranch was created with Tripper in mind. From the fencing to the dry lot to rock collection and pathways. For some reason he wasn't meant to come here. I cannot grasp the why.

Many beautiful things have been said about Tripper and they all hold truth. He was strong and stoic and most other horses with the level of pain he had would be on the ground rolling. He stayed strong for me and did not want me to see his pain. He is in horse heaven under a shade tree with our neighbor horse Twist. His body was giving out a year and half ago and it was his spirit that came alive again to carry him this far. He regained his dignity, something very important to horses, and he died with dignity.

I cannot put words to the pain I feel in my heart.

Tripper opened a part of my heart that I didn't realize existed. He invited me to love in a different way. Without his daily encouragement I feel lost. Can I continue what he has shown me on my own?

Friday morning I went out to greet my boys as usual and I did not see Tripper's ears perking up over the hay and I did not hear his familiar good morning nicker. Alibi and Pippin were there, but not Tripper. I went looking for him up in lava land, a place he never went because the rocky surface was too much on his senior bones.

The gate is at one end of the dry lot so I started calling him and walking in. Some ways in I could see him walking toward my voice. As soon as he saw me, he went down. I ran to him and found him scratched and scraped from head to hoof from rolling around on the ground trying to ease his abdominal pain. He had been in pain for a while.

Gently I got the halter around his confused head and worked with him to get him up. Carla, a gal boarding her horses there, came up to help me and the two of us kept him walking. Pippin and Alibi were behind us, encouraging him to keep going. We got him up to the barn and put him in the round pen to keep him going.

He wanted to lie down and roll again and we had to work hard to not allow that. I called the vet and it seemed to take hours before they arrived. A call for colic is an emergency response.

When they arrived they did a preliminary exam and Tripper's heart rate was dangerously high. They gave him medication to ease the pain. They gave him a sedative so they could put a tube up his nose and down his throat. They had to give him a second dose and still he seemed not to be too sedated. He was a gentleman while they did what they had to to assess his condition.

We walked him back down through the dry lot and through the gate of Jeff and Barb's place to use their trailer. Every horse along the way was calling out to him. He didn't have the energy to walk but he did and he kept going. A good 1/2 mile.

After some other tests, it was determined that part of his small intestine had died, most likely due to a lipoma that cut it off. Apparently, this is somewhat common in senior horses. Surgery didn't suggest high positive odds and even if the surgery did go well, his expected time would maybe be a year.

I had to decide fairly quickly because if we wanted to do surgery, we had to do it right away. There was no knowing how much of his small intestine was affected until the surgery and then only so much of it could be removed.

Tripper stayed standing the entire time. He moved as he was asked. He was polite and kept his manners. I couldn't stop holding him and kissing him and comforting him. I asked him to comfort me.

I held Tripper until his last breaths. When he was gone, I stayed with him for a while just caressing him and playing with his very soft mane. I kissed him again and felt that little bump in his forehead that I felt everyday and I smelled his fresh sweet coat, a combination I enjoyed every day for a year and a half. With my eyes closed I could tell you it was him.

Later when I got back home I went up to lava land to see where he was and what he had experienced. I didn't realize it until then that he was behind my house. He came looking for me.

He never made it to our new home. Here we remember him and talk about him often and we cry. It was a shock. And it is a deep loss that we will feel for a very long time.

I miss my friend. I miss my horse. I miss that part of my heart being touched every morning.