Hey All

I'm so glad March is here in Northern Michigan. Just a few short weeks ago, it was so very cold the trees were cracking loud enough to sound like gun shots. The creek was running like Jell-O and the snow crunched loudly with every step  Now, the light has changed. It has more color. My outdoor surroundings are coming alive. Down in the swamp by the creek, things are bubbling to the surface as gas and scum make their way to the top of the snow cover. The creek itself is flowing strong. And I'm starting to see critters down by the creek who have not poked their noses out of their burrows, holes and covers in several months, enjoying the break in the weather and getting out to do a little eating, housekeeping and visiting with neighbors. When I stop to fill up the Jeep I no longer hunker at the pump as icy winds blow across the parking lot. And there is no waiting for all the snowmobilers to move away from the pump. Ah, the simple things in life are so wonderful.

My intention for this newsletter, if anything, is just to present the musings of a wandering woman in a way that will inspire you. It's not my place to tell you what you must do, what is wrong, and why. This newsletter is just an invitation for you to take a look for yourself. Enjoy!

I'd love to hear your thoughts, insights and understandings. deb@portagecoach.com

And I'd love to work with you on any transition, personal or business. Just give me a call at 231-879-4178 or 877-762-4178.

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Lost Is Found

I've been lost twice in the last week. Yup, one day I got in the car thinking I knew where I was going and I proved myself wrong. On another day, I decided to take the dogs for a walk in an area I'm not very familiar with and I got all turned around. I came out far away from where I thought I was and far away from the car.

I have a bit of a reputation for this. Friends are often hesitant to ride or walk with me. I wander and I explore and I experiment. And I allow myself to be distracted by the new environment. And so while I'm very immersed in the present, all that is new around me, I lose track of the past (where I came from) and the future (where I think I'm going).

So I rather like getting lost. When I'm at home in Northern Michigan, getting lost means I keep walking or driving until I find a two-track that leads somewhere. In Northern Ontario, where I visit often to fish or paddle, I can easily be lost for a whole day or more.

Getting good and lost means I must relinquish all attempts at being in control of my situation and any need to know where I am, where I might be going and what it will take to get back to where I began. In this state, nothing matters but my current surroundings and I am more fully able to immerse myself in those surroundings and let go of what has been and what is to come. “Lost” becomes and attitude that breaks any psychological barriers. And my body responds to that attitude.

There are some cultures, mostly island cultures, which simply don't have a word for the experience of being lost. But for those of use who do “know” lost, there's an attitude shift to work through. So here it is. The price we pay for the freedom of being lost is to be vulnerable. The gift we receive from the freedom of being lost is new, unexpected and random things like unforeseen circumstance, interesting people, and odd surroundings. It stimulates us. If we pay the price of vulnerability, we can let go of being threatened simply because we are lost.  We learn to not waste our energy panicking about the direction we should take. 

Current theory from the mathematics of quantum physics indicates that we should be able to remember the future as easily as we remember the past. This theory helps me understand that getting lost is not really lost in the traditional sense; it's lost with the knowing that the future will find me. 

“Don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.” ~Diane Ackerman

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Books and a Resource for You

It's probably back-country canoeing that has most helped me embrace being lost. 

And in the world of canoeing, Verlen Kruger was legendary. He was 41 when he discovered the sport of canoeing while fishing in Northern Ontario. He died recently at the age of 82. Verlen paddled the length of the Yukon River from its headwaters to the Bering Sea for the summer celebration of his 80th birthday. During his 40 years of canoeing, he paddled over 100,000 miles across two continents and has earned 11 Guinness World Records for long-distance canoe travel. A 28,043-mile excursion was his longest journey. 
http://www.krugercanoes.com/world_records.htm

One Incredible Journey

The Untimate Canoe Challange: 28,000 Miles Through North America

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Happy Easter

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A Note About My Recommendations
I provide links in this newsletter to products and services I am offering or I have personally found valuable. With some of them, I have an affiliate agreement. If you are ever disappointed with one of these recommendations, please let them and me know. If they don't make it right, I will.
 

Peace and much love
Deb
 

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