Bits
A Story of Childhood
Yolanda looked down at me with hate and meanness. She was the bully of first grade. She and her group of Chicano thuglettes preyed on the white girls by stealing lunch money, ruining school homework projects on the way home, generally inflicting fear, and beating up those who stood up against her.
I had been under the radar for sometime probably because I looked very Mexican with my dark eyes and hair and summer tan. But, Yolanda had gotten wind of my being Antoinette's friend and lunch buddy. No Chicano was supposed to befriend a 'pastey'.
"I'm gonna beat you up after school!" she threatened, her chubby face sneering at me.
"Well, you can try," I drawled back at her in my best Zane Grey western cowboy drawl.
I have no idea why I called her bluff, but I did. She didn't know my pension for reading Zane Grey and my complete admiration for the honor of the code of the Old West cowboys. I guess I decided my life may be the price, but I am not going to be afraid of her like the other first graders.
My blonde-haired friend Betsy offered to fight her for me, but Yolanda squelched that idea with a vicious snarl and I did as well telling Betsy to shut up.
My declining Betsy's offer seemed to make Yolanda even madder. It was decided the showdown would be right after school at 3:30 pm.
A couple weeks prior, my older sister had gotten herself beaten up on the way to school, her cute handmade puppet for class ruined by a group Chicano girls from her third grade class. She had told me to run on ahead, to not worry about her, and as I scurried away and looked back, she was encircled by the girl gang.
I was not proud of myself for leaving my sister to fend for herself, but she was protecting me in the only way she knew. I suppose facing Yolanda was the penance I needed in order to forgive myself.
I do recall that I asked God to take care of me that day. I didn’t see how I could possibly win the fight against the bigger girl and her friends. They never fought fair. They were bullies and cowards.
It seemed like an unusually long school day that would never end. When the final bell rang, Betsy and I hurried out to the schoolyard to meet my fate.
But Yolanda did not show. Betsy and I waited and waited then headed for home. Gleefully thankful and full of relief that our dread had been for nothing and facing certain death had become a reprieve.
Yolanda ignored me for the rest of the school year. Nothing was ever said about the incident.
Bridles
Undone
Somewhere along the way, my sense of courage morphed into shyness, uncertainty, and self-doubt. Maybe it was life’s tumultuous changes, hypocrisy of beliefs, growing up and moving from Colorado to California - whatever it was, I felt more comfortable reading a script than being spontaneous.
Stage was a perfect place for me. Behind an instrument, even better. I loved the performances and the routines, always knowing what came next. Performance never scared me, but life did.
Life as I knew it was decided for me and settled from age 9. Music and performance with the destination of Nashville and the Grand Ole Opry. Eleven years later, my life road disappeared. I was left {scrambling} to find my Plan B.
I was undone.
Drop the Reins
Set Free
There is a spark in me that lays dormant and then can ignite into blind courage. I believe everyone has this ability when pushed to the edge of a cliff. Does one jump or go search for a different route? Depends.
The Rest of the Deer, an in-depth study of intuition written by Margaret Blanchard. Intuition cannot exist if there is no imagination. Intuition speaks in symbols not words. Intuition is nurtured through storytelling. Intuition can be a source of transformation, of healing, but regardless - it always involves a change.
My first introduction to intuition was a complete knowing about a situation without having prior knowledge. Call it a gut feeling, a premonition, a deep knowing unaccompanied by doubt. I saw the whole picture all at once. It was not Deja vu, but perhaps could be classed in the same realm.
Was it intuition that had me bravely face Yolanda? I think so. I called her bluff. My imagination fueled by my Western hero story filled me with a courage and staunchness that met a bully face-to-face. Whatever was in me was stronger than what was compelling her. I do know that I had to stand up for myself for my self-worth and integrity and for what is right. Words that are not found in a first grader's vocabulary, but are understood by knowing.
The second time I acted on intuition was when I experienced an overnight change toward self-defense, gun ownership, and taking personal responsibility for my family's safety. Prior to that night, fear had always stopped me regarding gun ownership and self-defense. As if harboring the thought of violence being real would invite harm and injury. I would have to actually use a gun or defend myself: how terrifying. No, the truly terrifying thought is: it will never happen to me. The truth is, it just might, and probably will - so be ready.
I sought training. I can only describe how ridiculous I felt walking into Lionheart Tactical in Boise, Idaho and asking the owner to show me how to operate and clean my new 12-gauge pump shotgun. I had purchased that particular firearm for home defense. I knew whatever direction it was pointed with pulling the trigger would take out the area of a barn door. My aim didn't have to be precise, just point in the general direction and brace myself.
The owner was so generous, kind, and calm. He finished helping his other customers, all men, most wearing military camo. He brought out a long table and set up my case and took out my firearm. He made sure it was 'cleared' (no cartridges) and began to show me its operation.
He shared his story as a former Navy Seal, now a contract soldier who forms his own teams for special operation missions that he chooses for deployment.
We agreed on range time and some in-depth 4-hour training. My teenage daughter joined the exercise and we both got immediately addicted to shooting. What a sense of empowerment and pure groundedness of soul. Not only did we shoot my 12-gauge pump shotgun, but the owner's M4 semi-auto rapid fire, geared up and kitted out with his rigs, my Call of Duty Ghost mask, and learned some tactical maneuvers.
I recommend range training for all women who are interested in taking action in defending themselves and not playing the fair lady waiting to be rescued. Love yourself and your loved ones enough to become an asset not a liability in a threatening or violent situation.
The threat is real just as your fear is real. You must decide which serves you best. And then decide what you are willing to do about it.
The Rest of My Life, written by me.
Just as Margaret was searching for the rest of the deer as a child, I am searching for the rest of my life. There is so much more of it to be lived, to be experienced, and to be courageous about.
Set Free.
I live in Idaho. I loved seeing all your horses in the wonder challenge.