What Am I Doing?

What am I doing?

I tend to ask this question of myself daily, usually when I walk into a room to complete a task only to realize I have completely forgotten what I even went in there to do. It happens. Other times, I ask this question when thinking about my life.

I wonder sometimes if I am doing what I am meant to be doing with my life or if I have veered off the correct path of destiny somehow and lost my way. Will I find my way again, or I am just randomly spinning out of control into the great beyond, never to find my way back to what is or was meant to be? Am I on the right course? More importantly, what is the right course? Where am I supposed to go from here? What am I doing?!

It seems as though I find myself asking these questions more and more often of late. When my husband was alive, we had a plan. We knew what we were working towards and why, and although we occasionally got off track, our goals and dreams were intact and we knew what we wanted long term. We had a plan for our retirement and things were in place to make our plan a reality. My life was set, so to speak.

When my husband passed away unexpectedly, my life was turned upside down and the path set for two no longer made sense. It wasn’t attainable on my own. Even worse, I had no contingency plan. I didn’t have a plan for being on my own, because honestly, I thought my husband would outlive me. Instead, the universe threw me a curve ball and I was forced to move forward with a life I never expected, and in turn, forced to reinvent myself, an ongoing process that has proved to be exceptionally challenging. No one prepared me for this, and there is no manual for the path of my life. Like this story, I am still attempting to write it.

I was contemplating the many questions of life one day in a rather in-depth and enlightening conversation with my best friend, Raina. As usual, we found ourselves analyzing our lives over a glass of good Pinot Noir. We had been “wine-ing.” This is not to be confused with traditional whining. “Wine-ing” is a term I have created that means “drinking and enjoying wine in good company.” Traditional “whining” is not allowed to take place over a bottle of good Pinot Noir. Save the whining and crying for beer. Pinot is sacred.

Raina and I tend to discuss everything. On this particular day, we talked about our lives and the different paths we have taken over the years, our successes and failures, the people that have influenced us, and the roads we see ahead of us.  It’s interesting to stop and look back at our many life choices and wonder what could have happened with different choices and why we have ended up where we are. It’s also interesting to think about the life experiences that have shaped who we are and why we view and do things a certain way. At the moment, we are both on a quest for success, something everyone views differently but longs for all the same. I left our conversation with the realization that success has more than one definition. I need to be more open to receiving success, as well as expanding my horizons in terms of what is and isn’t success.  

The day after my conversation with Raina, I was taking a much-needed walk and enjoying nature at a small lake located near my place. As usual, I had my camera with me, hoping to see some of the many birds of prey that frequent the area. It had been a slow day in the bird watching department, but it still felt good to be out and about for a few minutes, enjoying a little fresh air before my nightly barn chores.  

I was contemplating my life and some difficult choices I need to make in order to continue moving forward and find both happiness and success in the days, weeks, and months ahead. Lately, for whatever reason, things have been harder than they need to be and every challenge is a bigger battle than anticipated. We all go through these times in our lives and they often pass after some difficulty. This, however, doesn’t seem to be passing. As I was lost in thought and contemplating some of the more difficult questions of my life, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and noticed a small, colorful bird in the trees above me. I quickly snapped a couple of shots with my camera before it flew off to a much higher venue where it could barely be seen by my eyes as I squinted into the sunlight. I had no idea what I had just witnessed in terms of a bird sighting, but I intended to find out.

An American Kestrel Falcon in Keenesburg, CO

I was intrigued by the beautiful little bird. Somehow, I knew its sighting had some spiritual meaning. It was unlike any bird I have seen before. To call it unique was an understatement. Its head was slate blue and its wings were a rust colored brown with some black accents. It had a sharp look to it and obviously preferred to be very high up in the trees, unlike the little blackbirds and chickadees fluttering about.  It seemed to have the qualities of a bird of prey, but it was rather small.

Upon returning home, horse duties called and by the end of the evening, exhaustion took over. I’m not a bird nerd or member of the Audubon society, so searching for a bird species on the internet can be tedious and time consuming for me, especially when I have no idea where to start looking or what bird species I may have encountered. My quest for figuring out the type of bird I had witnessed would have to wait. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long.

The following day, the universe answered my curiosity for me. I was watching the morning news when a segment came on featuring a wildlife bird expert. He had several birds of prey with him, the second of which happened to be a carbon copy of the colorful little bird I had photographed on my walk. I couldn’t believe my luck. The morning news had just saved me several hours of searching and potential frustration. I learned that the little bird is an American Kestrel, the smallest member of the Falcon family. A small bird of prey, the American Kestrel is the smallest, most common Falcon in North America.  

Those of you that know me realize I find birds and their sightings inspirational and meaningful, so my next endeavor was to determine the spiritual meaning behind seeing this particular bird. What I discovered resonated and hit home. From what I was able to gather, the Kestrel Falcon usually appears when you are trying to figure out what your life goal is or when you are struggling to understand and decide on your life direction. I had just had this very conversation with Raina! How incredible that this bird was presented to me twice – first on my walk, then inadvertently on the newscast I happened to see.

The Kestrel Falcon tends to perch in the trees high above other birds, giving itself an advantageous view of its world. From a spiritual perspective, it is thought that when you see a Kestrel Falcon, it is a sign that you need to analyze things from a higher perspective and be in a place where you can have a clearer, more enlightened view of your world. In other words, find a view that gives you a clear perspective on the end result you desire. The Kestrel Falcon tends to present itself when you need to plan well, have a clearer understanding of yourself, and have a better perspective of what is happening around you. It’s crazy, but my conversation with Raina had hit on all of these things. Having nature drive the point home has made it even more profound.

It may sound strange, but seeing the Kestrel Falcon and thinking about its spiritual meaning has provided me with comfort. I have been asking myself “What am I doing?” for a long, long time now. As simple as it is, it’s actually a very challenging question. I do not have the answer(s) yet. I have not exactly found the place that will give me the enlightened view of the Kestrel Falcon. I am still defining success and the result(s) I desire, but I believe I can figure it all out with time.

It is reassuring to know that once again, love and guidance was offered to me via wings from the sky above.

~ Sandy

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The Power of Negativity

There will always be haters.

Recently, I received a private message on Facebook informing me that there is nothing spiritual about seeing a hawk or eagle; it is merely a bird sighting and to stop forcing my religious views about birds onto people. Another person informed me that my opinions and actions towards pigeons are unfounded and that I am cruel to these birds. While I am not opposed to constructive criticism, I do feel the need to point out a few things.

First, my blog is not about religion nor is it intended to be. Anyone that knows me personally will tell you that I am the last person they expect to see in church on Sunday. I am spiritual, but I am not religious. There is a difference.

Second, no birds have been harmed during the writing of this blog. And if I want to use pigeons as an analogy to describe poor human behavior, I am going to do so because it is my constitutional right to use Zoomorphism in writing.

While these messages had negative intentions behind them, I found them to be entertaining because it’s obvious that these comments were made by people that either didn’t read my blogs in their entirety or they have less than stellar reading comprehension. Or, like many people, they simply wanted to spread their negativity with the world and decided I was a good target to start with. I am guessing it is mainly the latter, and these messages did inspire some thoughts on the power of negativity.

How many negative messages do you think you receive in a day? I don’t have any statistic to share, I am merely asking the question because it is worth pondering. When you stop and think about it, we live in a very critical world. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do, someone is lying in wait, ready to pounce on you and spread their negativity at a moment’s notice. These people are everywhere and show up freely at unforeseen, random times.

Sometimes, it is downright crazy what people choose to be negative about. I recently ran into a couple of acquaintances at the grocery store and was surprised at the negativity that came up from a seemingly harmless subject and how quickly it killed what started out to be a fun, friendly exchange. For the purpose of this story, I am simply going to refer to the individuals involved as acquaintance one and acquaintance two.

To give you some background, these two women couldn’t be more different. Acquaintance one is a pretty, bubbly young lady that has two small children. She loves being a mom and she is very good at it. Her children are her world. Acquaintance two is an older lady that lives to watch news programs and frequently spends her time dwelling on world events and complaining about things that none of us can control or change. Thankfully, I know from some of her rants that she isn’t online or believe me, I wouldn’t mention this story here because I would never hear the end of it.

The conversation began between me and acquaintance one. We had exchanged pleasantries and I had just inquired about her two young children when acquaintance two showed up and joined the conversation. I asked acquaintance one about her daughter’s upcoming birthday. She excitedly told me that she and her husband were planning a birthday trip for their kids to Disneyland, the first trip of its kind for them. I mentioned that I had not been to Disneyland since I was in college. I jokingly stated that my favorite ride used to be “Pirates of the Caribbean” and that I wasn’t even sure if the ride existed anymore.

Without missing a beat, acquaintance two spoke up and firmly declared, “someone died on that ride! That place isn’t as safe as you think it is. I would think twice before taking a trip there.”

In my mind, I heard “wah-wah” in response to her comment. What a downer! Why bring that up and squelch the enthusiasm of acquaintance one, who was visibly excited about taking her kids to Disneyland for the first time? As fast as the mood changed, you would have thought we were in conflict about politics and someone’s wardrobe had been insulted.

I wanted to tell acquaintance two that I was hosting a parade next week and ask if she could show up and rain on it, but I held my tongue.  Some people have no sense of humor, and she’s one of them. I wasn’t in the mood for a debate with her, and I know her well enough to know that any sarcasm or humor would have started just that. And like the adage goes, “if you have nothing nice to say…”

Sadly, the conversation was awkward after that and ended sooner than it needed to. I felt bad for acquaintance one. All enthusiasm for her upcoming trip was destroyed in that moment, and I could sense the conversation upset her.

As I was driving home from the store, I couldn’t help but think about the conversation and the power of negativity. How does a conversation about Disneyland become negative? Is it necessary to be negative? Why are some people negative for the sake of being negative?

When you stop to think about it, negativity is truly toxic. How many times has the negative perspective of someone else ruined your enthusiasm for something? How many times has a negative person ruined a social event for yourself and others? On the flip side, how many times have you gone into something with a negative perception and the event seemed to drag on and on?  

Negative thinking is an easy mind set to fall into, and we have all been guilty of it at one time or another. Everyone has a bad day, after all. But perpetual negative thinking creates a space in our mind that allows depression, anger, sadness, and anxiety to nest, grow, and take over, much like pigeons in a barn. Negativity is very destructive.

It may be hard to stop negativity in your mind, but it can be done. Instead of being the person that brings “wah-wah” to the conversation, bring a ray of humor or sunshine instead. In the end, negativity is like a pigeon that has performed an air raid and pooped all over the barn, saddles and all – it is unpleasant and not enjoyed by others. Please keep your negativity to yourself.

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Finding Home

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Fresh air and a change of scenery was calling out to us. I was longing to look to the sky and see a hawk or an eagle overhead, while my dad just wanted to be outside. There had been far too much “together” time in the confined spaces of my house, and although it was rather blustery outside and the cold air felt like it might snow, me and my dad loaded up in his truck – a loud, white dodge diesel pick-up that he has named “Bob” – and headed down the road. Dad turned right as we left the neighborhood, so I knew we were not going to town. He was heading out to the countryside to enjoy the sight of farmland and small, rolling hills. We had no destination in mind. For several minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Bob’s loud engine as we drove away from the house. Eventually, we found ourselves bouncing along on a dirt road.

As we rambled down the dirt road, the scenery was changing, and I loved it. I felt myself relaxing as we drove along, something that was much needed. I had just survived the holiday season, something that has been challenging since the passing of my husband. Although it was winter, you could tell we were driving through farmland. We were surrounded by fields planted for winter wheat and a few fields with the remnants of sunflowers. Although they were dark, slumped over, and starting to crumble, a far cry from their bright yellow glory months before, they still held an allure that kept me looking at them.  I really liked the area. Something about it felt like home to me. I had spotted a few Harris Hawks overhead, flying free, their sharp, watchful eyes on the lookout for prey below.

I finally broke the silence with my dad. “You know, there are a few nice-looking horse properties for sale out this way.” I had casually started looking on the internet at new places to live and had been doing so for a few weeks. With my husband gone, I simply couldn’t afford the house we were living in, and it was too large and difficult for me to maintain by myself. I also wanted something with more acreage for the horses and far fewer neighbors. And the house was filled with my husband. Endless memories of him, our marriage, and everything we had shared. It was also a painful reminder of everything I had lost. Not that memories shouldn’t be present in a home, but having a memory around every corner and in every room was proving difficult to handle emotionally and it wasn’t helping me move forward. There were also some very traumatizing memories related to his passing and his funeral service in the house that I wanted – and needed – to stop reliving.

Dad responded to my comment with, “Get some addresses and we’ll do a drive by on a few.” I took out my phone and did as he instructed. A few minutes later, we were driving by a place that had potential, but something about it didn’t feel right. We drove on to another place a few miles away. A nice place, but the barn area looked run-down and the fencing was dreadful. I could envision my horses running through the fencing and being loose on the prairie there. Nothing like trying to run after a champion thoroughbred sprinter in a wide-open space. No! Running along behind has never been my thing. Not my future home. Moments later, we were driving on to the next one. It was a new build. The house looked wonderful from the outside, but there were neighbors close by and no fencing. The place across the street had pigeons sitting on the fence posts and the yard looked like it should be on an episode of the tv show “Hoarders.” Dad vetoed it immediately.

We continued down the road. As we were driving along, a large bird with a wide, dark brown wing span swooped directly in front of the truck then veered off to the right. Another bird swooped in behind it, and the pair flew together, just ahead of the truck. “Dad, look at the eagles!” I exclaimed. It was a pair of big, beautiful bald eagles, and they looked magnificent. They flew alongside the road, gliding through the air in front of us as if they were guiding us to our destination. We watched them in awe as we drove along, marveling at their size and beauty. The pair eventually flew upward and landed on a power pole. Below the power pole was a real estate sign for a property that was for sale.

Eagles have tremendous significance for me. If you read one of my first blog posts, you know that the Bald Eagle was my unicorn, the elusive creature that cannot be captured. For the longest time, it was the one bird that was too elusive for me to photograph. I could never take a decent picture, and it was a source of amusement for me and my late husband. He teased me endlessly about my quest to take a good photograph of a Bald Eagle. I took out my cell phone and snapped a picture. Although it was starting to snow lightly, the picture turned out perfectly. I couldn’t believe it. I finally captured a Bald Eagle – and it was with my cell phone! I looked to the sky and told my husband thank you. I cannot explain what I felt at that moment, but I knew my husband was with me.

My thoughts were interrupted by my dad. “Let’s check out this place for sale.” He turned the truck onto a small dirt road directly in front of the power pole the eagles had landed on, and we headed towards the place for sale. We had to drive about a quarter of a mile to get to the house. I couldn’t stop thinking about the eagles and how they had guided us. I knew in that moment my husband was with us, and I couldn’t help but feel he was behind the steering wheel of this journey, especially when the eagles followed us to the house and circled overhead as we drove around.

As we pulled up to the house, my heart sped up. It was perfect! It was a quaint, lovely ranch house with columns on the porch and a beautiful wood front door. It fit the picture I had always had in my mind of a perfect “ranch” house. The place was lovely. It even had a wheat field! There was plenty of space for the horses. I would have to build the appropriate fencing, but I could see me and my herd living there. I loved it, and I had not even seen the inside of the house yet.

We called the numbers of the real estate agent on the sign and left messages. Since we couldn’t get a hold of the agent to see the house, we decided to go grab a much-needed late lunch. We had been driving for hours at this point, and we were both ready to eat. We weren’t far from the town of Hudson and one of our favorite restaurants, so we headed that direction. The eagles were still there as we drove away, circling overhead as if to guard and watch over the property. We also noticed a herd of mule deer in one of the nearby wheat fields. This area was definitely feeling like home!

Not long after we ordered lunch, I received a call. It was from a real estate agent who works for the agent that had the house listed. The listing agent was out of town, so this agent was filling in for her. We made plans to meet the agent and see the house in 2 hours. Another showing was scheduled right before ours, so we had to wait. I was nervous because a snow storm was moving in and I hate being out and about on snowy roads, but my desire to see the house far outweighed my desire to be off the roads and out of the snow. The eagles were calling me.

After our late lunch, we slowly headed towards the property. As we drove there, we observed the herd of deer not far from where we had left them. The Bald Eagles greeted us again near the power pole, flying next to the truck, almost as though they were welcoming us and guiding us back in. We stopped at the corner near the power pole and waited a few minutes, as we could see the other people still had not finished their showing. The eagles swooped and flew around, surveying one of the wheat fields for prey. I was struck by their raw power and incredible beauty as they flew in the lightly falling snow. Darkness was setting in.

At last, we saw a vehicle leaving the property and my phone rang. It was the real estate agent telling us we could head to the house for the showing. As we pulled in the driveway of the house, I could hardly contain my excitement. The house was even better than I had remembered.

Walking up to the beautiful front door, I couldn’t help but think I was home. As the door opened and I walked in, I knew instantly I was in my future home. It was perfect!  The living room, dining area, and kitchen had a warm, inviting, open feel and it suited me. Everything about the house was exactly what I wanted. I couldn’t have designed it better myself. I made an offer that night and the rest is history. It is my home.

One of the Bald Eagles I have been blessed to see and photograph in my yard

In addition to the beautiful home, I was struck by the women I met there that night. The owner of the property was present, and as it turned out, she was also at a crossroads in her life where she had to make changes and move forward somehow. Selling the place was part of moving on for her, although it was very hard for her to do. Hopefully she has been able to move forward in a positive light and find the happiness she deserves.

The real estate agent, Tabatha, became one of my very best friends. In conversation that night, I poured out my heart to her about the tragic crash that had taken my husband’s life and my need to move forward in a different environment and start anew. Tabatha told me about the passing of her sister years before, also at the hands of an impaired driver. We had an immediate bond, and to this day, I am blessed to call her a best friend and confidant. It is amazing how alike we are and how much we have in common. I am so grateful I have her and her family in my life now. I cannot help but think that my husband and the eagles guided me to a friendship I know I will have for the rest of my life.

When I stop to think about that day, I find it amazing that a simple drive changed my life. It led me to new friends, a new version of home, and a new path in life. When I see eagles now, I think of my husband and wonder what he is trying to show me or where he is trying to guide me. I often see the Bald Eagles in my yard or flying overhead, and I am thankful to them for showing me that I am, indeed, being watched over from above. And as with most eagles, they have proven challenging to photograph, although I have gotten lucky a few times.

Most of all, I am grateful to my late husband and the Bald Eagles for showing me the way home.

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Remembering to Breathe

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While many people were eating chocolates and enjoying the smell of flowers, I had an important Valentine’s date here at the ranch with my beautiful horses and my veterinarian and friend, Nancy.

I am blessed to have a wonderful veterinarian that I have known for several years now. I am always amazed at her knowledge and insight, and quite frankly, she has the patience of a saint because any other veterinarian would have fired me as a client years ago.

I didn’t grow up with horses. Having them isn’t second nature to me, like it is for other “horse” people. I was 38 years old when I bought my first horse, a thoroughbred mare that I bought at the race track and retired because she had no interest in running anymore. I had always wanted a horse, and I was determined to have one.  

That was ten years ago; I am still learning about horses, and I can honestly say that I learn something about these amazing creatures every day. And God bless Nancy for her patience and kindness with me over the years. She has endured my tears, panic attacks over nothing, and late evening phone calls with ridiculous questions and, of course, more panic.

On Monday afternoon, I had to call Nancy and ask her to check on Baby Note. I noticed she was rather lethargic and walking around her paddock with her head down. The little spitfire that had been bucking and playing only hours before didn’t seem quite right. When I called Nancy, she had just saddled her own horse and was getting ready to ride. She told me she would unsaddle immediately and head my direction.

As I got Baby Note and her mother, Note This, into their stall, I noticed that Baby Note had a runny nose. With the crazy fluctuations in temperature we have been having, I confess that I was worried something like this might happen.

Nancy arrived shortly thereafter, and it took some doing to get Baby Note’s temperature. Not that I blame her. Being held in place and having a thermometer placed in my rear-end isn’t my idea of a good time either! After a rather eventful examination of Baby Note, my worries were confirmed. She had a rather high temperature and would need antibiotics for several days, the administration of which was challenging each time.

Fast forward to today, and I am pleased to report that Baby Note is doing well. Nancy looked in on her yesterday and she had her last dose of antibiotics. Today, she is bucking and playing and even jumped over her mother while Note This was trying to rest in the paddock. Baby Note is back to her independent self, exploring the paddock and playing with an energy most of us could only wish to possess.


As for my Valentine’s Day date with Nancy and the horses, Nancy inadvertently reminded me of something very important – to breathe. Yes, I said breathe. Nancy observed that another mare, Snow Bunny, is showing signs of getting close to giving birth. While these signs had not been lost on me, for whatever reason, having Nancy voice them out loud made me panic. And I mean panic! I must have looked terrified because Nancy hugged me and said everything would be fine. Once I calmed down and remembered to breathe again, we talked about Snow Bunny’s care in the days ahead and I felt better because we had talked out a plan. And while we cannot control everything, it is nice to have a plan in place and know that I am doing everything I can for her. Just remember to breathe.

As I cleaned up the paddock last night, I had the feeling of being watched. I looked to the sky just in time to see a big hawk land on the roof of the barn. It tucked its large brown wings at its sides and watched my every movement as I finished my task. I could feel its eyes on me, ever watchful. I felt protected in that moment, mindful of the knowledge that I am being watched from above; everything happens in its own time, and worrying about things serves no purpose. The hawk also served as a reminder for me to be ever watchful with the horses, especially Snow Bunny. She will be “watched like a hawk.”

Sandy 

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Pigeons

Generally, I love birds and find them fascinating. While it is true that I can spend hours searching for and watching hawks or eagles, there is one bird I am not so fond of. The Pigeon. In fact, most horse owners will tell you they hate these birds. Believe me when I tell you that there is nothing worse than having Pigeons try to set up shop in your barn or outbuildings.

Pigeon Pic

Why do I hate Pigeons? Because Pigeons fly in, shit every where, make a huge mess while trying to nest in your space, and are extremely complicated to eradicate. Once they are in, they are nearly impossible to get rid of and cause a type of frustration that is beyond measure. Pigeons, like some people, can be a real bitch. And just as with people, it is against the law in most states to kill them.

Unfortunately, we all have “Pigeons” in our lives. They come to us in many forms daily: the annoying co-worker, the “contribute nothing, complain about everything” in-laws, the guy that has the rest of his life to be in front of you on a two-lane road that you can never get around, and the uninspired restaurant employee that makes dining out miserable instead of a pleasure. This list could go on for days. We all know who these people are. “Pigeons” show up daily in many forms because like the birds themselves, they tend to multiply with ease and rapid speed.

A few weeks before my husband passed away, several pigeons had started to nest in the barn. This was a direct result of the absence of our barn cat, Sheldon. Don’t worry, this is not a tale of how tragedy struck our barn cat. It is actually a tale of how “local barn cat makes good” and becomes a house cat. In other words, Sheldon wandered off one day, charmed a neighbor lady, and moved in with her. He upgraded his status from barn cat to house cat, and good for him. He was able to live out his final years living the dream life he always wanted. His departure, on the other hand, created a problem for my barn because his absence allowed a small flock of Pigeons to move in, and move in they did, lock, stock, and barrel, as the old saying goes.

One morning, less than a month after my husband passed away, I was trying to clean the barn through my tears. The funeral was long over and only a handful of people were still around. I was suffering from a form of PTSD and my grief was at an all time high that day. I was also being hassled by “Pigeons” disguised as my husband’s loved ones, and I had reached a breaking point. I was spending time in the barn to clear my head and to try to find a moment of peace. It was not meant to be. I was sweeping the barn floor when I heard and felt the “whoosh!” of wings over my head and immediately felt something wet on my arm. It was a Pigeon airstrike, and I had been hit!

I looked up and Pigeons were everywhere. I felt as though I was being swarmed in a vicious bird attack. My instinct took over and I started swinging the broom wildly in the air, screaming at the pigeons to get out. Feathers and pigeon shit filled the air in the chaos. I was angry now, and I just wanted the Pigeons out. All of them! Finally, after several frantic moments of swinging the broom wildly and yelling like a mad woman, the broom left my hand and flew out the door, hitting the ground with a loud thud. The Pigeons had finally flown outside. Tears streamed down my face and I started to sob. The Pigeons had to leave. All of them. Permanently. But how does one get rid of Pigeons?

It was in this moment that I knew I needed to talk to someone and seek counseling from an unbiased source. Friends had been encouraging me to go to counseling, but I was too absorbed in my grief to see the value in it. As it turned out, counseling was the best decision I ever made. Initially, I didn’t feel it was helping because I would leave some sessions and cry uncontrollably in my car. I would feel completely spent by the end of the session, and I didn’t see the value in that. Not at first, anyway. However, I stuck with it, because I honestly didn’t know of any other way to get rid of the “Pigeons,” and I needed answers. Something had to give.

It took nearly two years of grief counseling for me to come to some very important realizations. The first one is something that sounds simplistic when I see it written out or say it out loud, yet it was something I didn’t grasp because I had allowed the “Pigeons” of my life to rent entirely too much space, “nesting” in my mind for far too long. Here’s the earth-shattering revelation – I am not responsible for the dysfunctional behavior of other people. I do not own the behavior of other people, and I should not ever hold myself accountable for the actions of others. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? However, when the dysfunctional behavior comes from people you once loved, respected, and considered loved ones, it is hard to comprehend and accept.

To take it a step further, I also learned that it is human nature to question yourself and think that perhaps you did something wrong to deserve being treated that way. No. Odds are, you did nothing wrong and it’s their issue, not yours. In my case, the dysfunction had always been there, my husband and I had just found a way to put a bandage on it and live with it. Unfortunately, the bandage was ripped off with a vengeance when my husband died, and there was simply no adhesive left to put it back in place.

Finally, allow yourself to move on and remove yourself from a situation that has become toxic. It’s okay to let go of people that are going to do nothing but crap in your barn. There are times that the healthiest thing you can do for yourself is move forward in a manner that is best for you and leave the “Pigeons” behind. Let them crap elsewhere! Perhaps the “Pigeons” will acknowledge their behavior was wrong and take responsibility for the mess they created and clean up their shit. And perhaps not. That may well be wishful thinking! If they can never see or acknowledge that what they did was wrong, remember that it falls on them, not you. You don’t own their behavior, nor are you responsible for their actions. Not your nest, not your “Pigeons.”

Circumstances and life events can change people, and unfortunately, those changes may not always be positive. Death can bring out the very best in people, and it can bring out the very worst. I saw both sides of this very clearly when I lost my husband. Right now, the goal of my journey is to move forward in a positive light. The “Pigeons” are gone from the recesses of my mind and my life, and hopefully it stays that way. It feels good to let go.

As for the barn itself, spikes were placed in the rafters to prevent the Pigeons from being able to nest there. I placed large plastic owls in the rafters and completely closed the barn as often as possible, so as not to allow the Pigeons back inside. I also moved.

Sandy

P.S. The stress and anxiety caused by grief can be overwhelming to the point that you may feel as though you are having a heart attack. An anxiety attack is nothing to take lightly. I suffered from anxiety attacks endlessly the first year after my husband passed away. Trying to find a way to calm down, relax, and manage your anxiety is important. There are a lot of tips and tricks for alleviating anxiety and stress. I found the following blog excerpt from Greg Thurston to have some valuable insight. http://bbbblog19.7minutem.hop.clickbank.net?type=blog3&tid=TRACKINGID

My Unicorn, the Bald Eagle

Eagles are fascinating, powerful creatures that fly through my imagination and grasp the hands of time for me. When I see an eagle, its as though everything around me comes to a standstill except for the presence of the majestic bird I am blessed to be seeing.

As an amateur photographer, I spent years pursuing bald eagles, struggling to catch a glimpse let alone a decent photograph. It is a well-known fact that I have the world’s largest collection of blurry eagle photographs known to man. This is rather pathetic when you consider the fact that I live within ten miles of one of the largest bald eagle nesting grounds within the state of Colorado.

The fact that I could never capture a decent photograph of an eagle was not lost on my late husband. He used to laugh at my antics and adventures to photograph the ever-elusive eagle. One incident will forever stand out in my mind.

It was a particularly blustery day in Brighton, Colorado. I happened to have a day off from work in the middle of the week, and I was determined to make the most of it. I laced up my hiking boots, grabbed my coat and camera, and headed to Barr Lake in pursuit of the elusive bald eagle. I was determined that this would be the day my quest for an eagle picture would end.

Barr Lake is a small lake situated not far off Interstate 76. There is an 8.8-mile trail that circles the lake, and there are some nice spots along the way that are ideal for bird watching. And, Barr Lake is known as one of the largest eagle nesting grounds in Colorado.

My hike around the lake began in a rather non-descript manner. I noticed a few sparrows and pigeons as I set out and nothing more for what seemed like a rather long time. Not exactly the bird watching adventure I had been hoping for. Finally, a small gaggle of Canadian Geese came across my path, and eventually, a Northern Flicker Woodpecker. Things were looking up! My hopes soared as I looked to the sky and could see an eagle soaring in the distance. It was too far away to photograph, but there was no mistaking its magnificent wing span as it soared high above.

I continued walking. My feet were starting to twinge with a bit of pain. Unfortunately, my hiking boots were relatively new, and my feet were starting to feel it. “Carry on!” I told myself. I was so determined to photograph an eagle that pain be damned! This pursuit was ending today.

After walking for endless miles, or at least what felt like it, I arrived at the area where eagles could be seen and photographed. Allegedly. I had arrived at the area where a pair of bald eagles are known to nest, but naturally, the nest was empty and camping out there for 2 hours produced no results.

My quest to photograph an eagle was, in fact, a rather miserable experience in the end. The weather gradually deteriorated; the cold wind whipped my face. Dirt found its way into my contact lenses, and my feet were beyond painful. I had blisters above my big toe on both feet as well as my heels, and the bottom of both feet were screaming in agony. Defeated, I finally made my way back to my car and put my camera back in its case. I placed my camera behind the driver’s seat and headed home, blasting the heater as I drove.

As I pulled into my drive way, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, perched on a fence post in my yard, was the most spectacular bald eagle I had ever seen! At that moment, a string of expletives was going through my mind, many of which I cannot write down here. Let’s suffice it to say that my frustration and disbelief was at an all time high. Nothing like marching around an eagle nesting area to no avail, only to have one show up in your own yard!

By the time I got out of my car, got my camera out of its case and attached the action lens, the eagle was in the air, flying away at rapid speed. My hands were shaking, and I was fumbling with my camera. This was it! My opportunity to get the picture I had been longing for all day! I zoomed in on the magnificent bird as much as I could. I was snapping pictures furiously, praying to get a decent shot. It was not meant to be. I managed to capture another series of “blurry eagle at a distance” pictures.

After this incident, my husband declared the Bald Eagle to be my unicorn, the mythical creature that could never be captured. And my husband loved to joke about it! He never failed to remind me of my quest for eagles and some of the funny adventures that ensued as part of this pursuit.

When I see an eagle, I always think of my husband and often find myself saying hello. My husband is much like an eagle to me now; elusive but ever present. Like an eagle, he is soaring free, released from the binds, ties, pressures, and struggles of every day life that we all endure daily. He may not be here physically, but he is definitely present.

Sandy

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