Category: The (almost kinda) Daily

Yesterday, I talked about showing up and how showing up for yourself is a very different conversation from showing up in spite of yourself. We talked about meeting the energy where it’s at and taking consistent action to not only support where you find yourself currently, but also to allow yourself to gently move forward.

As with everything when we’re discussing things in snippets and sound bites, there’s always more to the story. What I want to talk about more are two different situations that can share the same outward manifestations, and how we would approach them differently. The first are the times when we’re tired and really need a break, and the second is when we’re in a low mood, potentially feeling depressed and our nervous system is in collapse. This is the one we are going to start with today.

But first… let’s veer wildly off the road and talk about how and what your brain needs to make good decisions for you in the moment (I know, a crazy u-turn but this relates to the conversation I promise). Our unconscious brain (the one ultimately driving the ship, making decisions about our safety, and choosing how to respond) relies on sensory information coming in. When we have an online and active sensory nervous system, our brain is receiving fresh input that allows us to meet the moment and to respond to it appropriately.

Easy right? Sensory information coming in. This feeds through to my unconscious brain; my brain makes a decision about whether to fire up the survival nervous system or not and spits any other relevant info through to the conscious brain so we can move forward accordingly.

Except there’s a catch. When we are in the survival nervous system, the incoming sensory info starts to get limited. By the time we are in the later stages of fight or flight and/or collapse, it’s like the volume’s been turned down to zero. Ain’t no new sensory input happening here.

This is not so problematic if we are only here for a limited period, and then we switch back out. But if we are spending more and more time here, the lack of new sensory input coming in is seriously problematic, and sooner rather than later I can find myself in a groundhog day loop of low mood, low energy, low everything. I’m stuck in conservation of energy mode. And my brain has no new sensory information coming in to change it up to anything different.

Now back to the conversation about showing up (see, I told you we would loop back around). What if we are meeting the energy where it’s at, but where it’s at is depression? What if where it’s at is a nervous system that’s in collapse? What then?

Because on the one hand, we know that action of some sort is needed. But on the other, the unconscious has chosen this for the body based on a very functional reason, and we don’t want to send anyone, least of all ourselves, to war within our own body and mind. Let’s face it, we already probably feel crap. We don’t need more of it.

In that situation, here are some things I know to be true.

• We need to get the sensory system back online. Without it, we are just reinforcing existing patterns and on a high end to nowhere.
• The body needs novel movement. This is part of what kicks the sensory system back into gear
• We need to proceed gently. We need action, but action does not require much outward movement. What we are seeking is internal change- and that change had nothing to do with strength or speed.

If you identify with any of the above and your understanding of showing up is all about pushing through or actions that involve lots of energy, chances are you are involved in a vicious cycle of either being exhausted by just the idea of taking action or finding yourself not following through despite your best intentions and then feeling even worse.

Many of our conversations around action taking and the likes lack a fundamental element: humanity. If you have little to no understanding of the body and the brain, then it’s easy to dismiss someone in a state of nervous system collapse as useless or lazy. What’s more, if you’ve been there, you don’t need anyone else to call you that- you’re doing to and for yourself.

Showing up in this place does require action- but it’s action that’s gentle, intelligent, and informed. It’s action that’s working WITH the body and the mind, not against it.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

I was musing yesterday about a couple of memes circulating the internet (I know they are often not meant for deep contemplation but there you go!) saying things like, “I don’t know who needs to hear this today but go ride your horse- you’ll feel better after” or a variation of that. And because the internet (and social media in particular) is a breeding ground for comparing-ourselves-to-other-people-and-stranding-ourselves-on-not-good-enough-island, I wanted to write a few words for those of us who perhaps aren’t finding solace in their horsing life now or who would even go so far as to identify it as a major stressor.

So. let’s get a couple of things out of the way so we can have an open conversation about it.

1. It’s not the horse’s fault. We all get that.
2. We love our horses. This conversation does not create a binary of a lack of love

But sometimes, when a particular area of your life is a struggle- particularly when that area of your life is something that you choose to do for joy- there can be a lot of shame attached to the realization that right now, you really aren’t having fun with it at all. Maybe even you resent it a bit. And it can feel difficult to talk about it truthfully because chances are you’ve put a lot of money into it, it takes time away from other things (like family for instance), and you feel like you *should* be loving it (but you’re really not right now).

Where does that leave you? Here are a few things I think are important to know and consider.

1. It’s more realistic to expect challenges than it is to be surprised by them

It’s ok. Whenever you are in a long-term relationship with anything or anyone, there are going to be moments where things dip out a bit. We’ve developed this unrealistic notion that if we aren’t constantly happy or joyful, we are failing. Which in and of itself is ridiculous.

It’s ok to be struggling or challenged by something. We just have to make sure that we don’t stay stuck there. It’s a delicate dance of action-taking and assessment making. That worked, that didn’t, a tweak here, a decision there and onwards.

Be gentle with you.

2. Call in the experts

If you are facing a specific challenge- maybe your horse is presenting you with something you don’t know how to deal with or maybe you have a confidence niggle you know is the limiting piece- reach out for help. There are people that dedicate their lives to the one thing that you are stuck with. Like me, literally, all I do all day is talk about, study, and help people with situations where their confidence might be wobbly or their nervous system is out of whack. If you need help cooking Lasagna, I’m not your girl. But if the former is what’s up, hit me up.

Likewise, with training issues, there are hosts of amazing people who devote their lives to that thing. Ask them. Work with them. Get help.

Know that if you ask lots of people their opinion, they will give it to you. And that can be confusing- especially if they are shooting in the dark or don’t have the expertise in that area that they perhaps think they do.

Be discerning. But reach out for help. People want to help, but you have to ask for it.

3. Claim your space

If you are online a lot or trawling through social media and the comparisons of people having a lovely time and doing what you want to be doing but feel like you can’t currently is sending you to Camp Crappy, call time out. Claim your space.

Switch off your phone, shut the laptop, take the app off your phone, throw it into the river, whatever. But claim your headspace and recognize engaging in those things is a (very seductive) choice. Nervous system wise, comparison is a beast of burden. We need to avoid it at all costs.

It’s ok to have time out. We all need to do that. Protect your headspace so you can make choices that are in the best interest of you and your horse.

There’s nothing wrong with being in a sticky spot. It’s normal. And it’s also temporary.

What’s more, there is no such thing as a wrong decision. Every move you make gives you more information about the present. We just have to keep on keeping on.

Onwards.

Jane

p.s. I did actually make a great Lasagna once. I surprised myself.

Most of us are masterful at dissociating from our experience; from being anywhere other than truly where we are right now. And what’s more, the ways that we do it are often so subtle that we don’t even consider them to be escapist or detrimental in any way at all.

Let’s think of it this way.

On a nervous system level, when I am responsive and adaptable, my sensory system is responding to what is in my direct experience. I’m not responding to any stories I have about what’s going on; I’m not responding to future anxieties. I’m responding to the reality of the moment as it exists currently.

When I’m in this place, my unconscious brain is the gatherer of information; my multiple senses feel into my environment, collecting information and shoots that information through to my brain, so it can update my sensory-motor map and decide what response is appropriate for me in this moment in time.

My conscious brain then receives this information and makes choices based on what the unconscious brain presents; it’s an information receiver and decision-maker. When I work in this way, I am experiencing my life on a full-body level, rather than just relating to it cognitively. From this place, my experience informs my perception and I respond accordingly.

For many of us, though, this is not what’s happening. Instead of us having a sensory experience with life, we are thinking our way through life. We are taught to do this; to analyse, to question, to relate to everything with our thoughts. This has become so normal to us that we might even find it hard to consider that there could be a different way. It might surprise us to hear that there IS a different way. And that, in fact, this is not the natural choice of your person, should the choice be given.

Overthinking, constant questioning, lots of planning, and considering are sympathetic or fight-flight nervous system patterns. In this place, our conscious mind is no longer the receptacle of information but the collector of information; a role it was never designed for. And as a result, we feel like we’re blowing a fuse. When we are constantly relating to our life with our thoughts, we are not truly experiencing our life. Experiencing is sensual.

Back to dissociation. The things I just mentioned- overthinking, constant questioning, lots of planning, and considering- are all methods of dissociation. But equally so, are the many “positive” ways and means that we are taught, that cause us to check out. I may be throwing myself into the fire by using this one, but gratitude journals and practices are an example of something that we perceive as positive but still, they remain a dissociation. Instead of us moving through our day and experiencing it, I am relating to it with my thoughts.

It might be a more “positive” story, but it’s still making the story more important than the moment. I’m overlaying my thoughts onto my experience, rather than my thoughts being informed by my experience.

The tricky part about letting yourself be in your experience is that sometimes it’s a little messy. Much of our dissociation is about creating the illusion of control; it’s about seeking to control our reaction to events and to allow us to present in a more socially palatable way than the truth of our experience might allow for.

And naturally, if we have been living from our survival nervous system for a while to the point where it’s become the norm, we need support in changing our patterns. We need tools to detach from the story and to be able to use the conscious mind to support the unconscious mechanisms that are designed to lead us through our life and experience. The ones that allow us to be IN our experience rather than absent from it.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Depression is a really big conversation, and I know it’s something that many people struggle with, as either an intermittent or regular feature of their life. From the perspective of the nervous system, depression becomes prevalent when I have moved into conservation of energy mode, the last stage of the sympathetic or survival nervous system after it’s journeyed through the active stages of fight, flight and freeze.

Apart from the obvious, depression challenges us for a couple of keys reasons:

On a physiological level, everything has slowed or shut down to support reduced energy output. When we say conservation of energy mode, it really does what it says on the label. We are conserving energy in every way; our heart rate decreases; respiration slows, and our metabolism hits the brakes also.

The ability for your nervous system to upload new sensory input is all but extinct (your brain needs this in order to create new experiences and change your patterns at a nervous system level), and on a brain level, you begin to use only the hindbrain (which allows for only reflexive motor responses), the association centre and your cognitive centre (meaning you are stuck in a cycle of overthinking and under-doing).

From a mental and emotional perspective, it makes sense that our psychological experience matches this also; decreased motivation, lack of energy and enthusiasm and an inability to look too far ahead.

We can arrive at this place for a few different reasons, but one of them is being stuck in an active sympathetic pattern for an extended period of time. When we are in operating from our fight/flight nervous system, we are unable to gradiate the amount of energy we invest in a task; so we are either all on with the accelerator or all on with the brake.

The body can only sustain this amount of energy output for a limited period, and so if you find yourself predominantly “living” in this place, sooner or later you’ll run out of puff.

You can also oscillate in and out; oftentimes, if we have a project or task we are doing that, requires a lot of us, we “rally” for the purposes of the task (from a physiological perspective, the task becomes the “threat” and we see ourselves again in the active fight-flight stages) and then once it’s over and we no longer have the focus, we move back into collapse.

Regardless of what path you take in choosing to support yourself, there are two key things that I want to mention that are important aspects of my work in moving out of the conservation of energy or collapsed place. These aren’t the totality of what would ideally happen but they are nonetheless key.

1. Training yourself into taking action

Many of us have been trained out of taking action in our lives for fear of making a mistake, getting it wrong, or simply being stuck in a sympathetic thought loop that’s encased us in its grasp. The brain learns (and consequently changes) through movement and action, as part of a four-part process that includes:

The choice phase (I make a decision) >> The action phase (I take an action) >> The observation phase (I observe the consequences of that) >> The adjustment phase (I adjust and refine the process for next time around).

Taking some sort of action is necessary for the sensory system to come alive (more on that next) BUT the TYPE of action is also important.

What do I mean by that?

Well, let’s say you ARE in the conservation of energy mode. This means that energy is low and your unconscious brain has chosen this for you for a very functional reason (that will often exist outside the awareness of our conscious mind). It’s important that we support the unconscious mind in making the most adaptive decisions for the body rather than ignore what is presenting by trying to consciously override it (which just sees us go to war with ourselves and does nothing to change our underlying nervous system state).

With that in mind, going for a run (when it’s the last thing you feel like), or enforcing drastic action on the body is not the way forward. If we force ourselves to move in this way, we are overriding the choice of the unconscious and only reinforcing the position we are in. We need to honour what’s presenting whilst making movements in a supportive direction, which leads me to the next part…

2. Activating the sensory nervous system

The brain needs up to date sensory information to decide what response to send out (which will be a new response as is the feature of the parasympathetic system, or a reflexive response, a feature of the sympathetic system). If I don’t have sensory input coming in, my brain will always favour the survival nervous system as a “just in case” default to keep us safe.

In the later stage of sympathetic and conservation of energy mode, I am no longer taking in new sensory input. We need to find a way of reactivating our sensory system so the brain can start to change things up.

My approach is through holistic biomechanics; I work with movement and awareness of structural location points on the body in a way that allows the brain to update its sensory-motor map, activate the sensory system. In this way, we use our somatic nervous system (under our conscious control) to support the workings of the unconscious brain (which is the one ultimately driving the ship).

That aside, if depression is part of your experience and you are beating yourself up for:

– Feeling low

– Having no energy

– Not being able to motivate yourself

Don’t. You’re just following through on what your body is telling you. “Forcing” change will most likely feel like nothing more than violence.

We need to find a way to gently wake things up so change literally comes from the inside out; and mood, energy and experience change as a result.

Onwards.

Jane

If I was ever to get a phrase or motto tattooed onto my body, this one would be it:

Don’t make the story more important than the moment

In so many ways, we are constantly (and I mean constantly) making the story in our heads more important than the moment we are in. We do this in a multitude of ways; by dragging forward experiences from the past, pre-empting possibilities in the future and dissociating from the present.

Let’s think about what’s happening from the level of the nervous system in all of these instances…

1. Dragging forward a story from the past

This in and of itself is a sympathetic pattern. If I am constantly thinking about a certain situation, experiencing a long lasting mood, or feel stuck in a groundhog day-esque loop, then it’s useful to understand that I’m operating from a sympathetic mindspace.

In parasympathetic, we are responding to the reality of the moment in front of us, and as those moments are always changing, my experience is constantly changing also. What expresses through me then exists in relationship with that.

In sympathetic, I am taking the story in my head and overlaying it onto my present day reality. I might have an idea about how things are going to play out, and expectation of what’s going to occur, or be replaying a scene from the past in my mind’s eye- all of which have their own thought patterns.

As soon as I activate that thought, the corresponding motor pattern in my body fires up also; and now mentally, emotionally and physiologically, I am 100% in the past.

The story doesn’t just exist in the moment, it becomes the moment; at least as far as is true for our physical and mental experience.

2. Pre-empting possibilities for the future

Much of what we seek out is not about assisting us in taking action, but in controlling our reaction. When we seek to control our reaction, we are again, dissociating from our experience.

Asking yourself- Am I looking to support action or to control my reaction?- is illuminating. We have so many rules around what is appropriate and not appropriate, what will be socially supported and what won’t be that we again dissociate from the reality of our experience and prevent ourselves taking any action at all.

If controlling outcomes becomes the norm, we can find ourselves with some fairly ingrained patterns of flight and freeze that can get difficult to see beyond.

3. Dissociating from the present

All of what we’ve talked about already are examples of dissociation. Some other common patterns include:

• Asking endless questions of yourself
• Asking endless questions of others
• Rigid planning
• Overthinking and under-doing

It’s a big conversation but just to get the ball rolling…

Don’t make the story more important than the moment.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

This face right here is the face of a four-legged pup wot needs a lot of exercise. And if she doesn’t get it, she can become what humans might term “a little bit annoying”.

Case and point: Last week, my little boy had a fall on the farm and broke his arm. Naturally, this threw our regular routine totally out of whack. For a couple of days, I was in town rather than home and being Lupin’s primary person, she didn’t get out and about as much as she normally would.

And by the time I DID get home she was a squiggly, squirmy bundle of energy wot had it coming out of her ears and paws and eyes and goodness knows she couldn’t concentrate and most definitely didn’t know what to do with herself there was just so much energy.

You get the picture.

The thing is with puppies, is that they are just so in your face. If you don’t do the best by them (which I might add is an honour and a privilege) you get immediate, explosive and chewed up reminders of the fact that they have energy, and that energy needs an outlet.

Movement, to them is not just something that’s “nice to do”; it’s an essential part of their physical and mental wellbeing. And if we restrict it or they don’t get enough of it, the effects are immediate and obvious.

The thing is us humans and our horses are the same. But perhaps, unlike a puppy, we can overlook the fact that movement is so integral to our wellbeing and treat it like a luxury add on.

We can convince ourselves that we have too much to do, or other things are more important. And we pay the price. Not only in terms of physical wellbeing but emotional health also.

My big horse Dee has a body he likes to move. I know if the weather has been bad and he hasn’t moved as much as he would like to in the paddock, or if he’s had some time off that we are going to be dealing with a layer of energy that needs to be released before we start anything that I might describe as “work”.

Understanding that is important because otherwise, I can get myself in a position where I’m met with behavioral expressions that might not be ideal whose remedy is simply… more movement.

If in doubt, move.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

These days, breathwork is pretty standard practice. If you are looking for solutions for dealing with fear and anxiety, I would put large swathes of money on the fact that have been instructed to or attempted to consciously manage your breath in some way, at some point in time. Even beyond specific challenges, if we think about what it means to be calm and relaxed in the saddle, we consider the active management of the breath to be a part of that process.

I will throw my hat in the ring and say I have been at that same party in the past also. I have studied a large number of breath practices available out there to the level where I have more than a superficial understanding of what they are trying to achieve.

But still, something niggled at me. For one, not everyone reports greater feelings of well-being from breathwork. In fact, many people fed back to me that it had the opposite effect of what they intended… that it made them MORE of what they were looking to avoid. More anxious, more concerned, more “tight”.

The other thing? Perception is different from reality. We can “feel” a particular way (which is subjective) and that’s different from the reality of where our nervous system is sitting. For instance, feelings of calm and quiet don’t necessarily represent a healthy nervous system. We can “feel” that way when our nervous system is actually in collapse.

Again, perception is different from reality.

Since I have really gone down the rabbit hole of nervous system understanding, I now understand why. And for the last while, I’ve dropped any attempts both personally and professionally to actively manage the breath.

This video is a snippet from Stable Hours, a weekly Q&A session that we have in my membership program JoyRide. It gives us a small taste of the theory behind what I’m talking about here and why it is you may have struggled with breath practices, if that is the case for you.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Boundaries- your ability to recognize a need for them, to create them, and to hold them- is always an interesting discussion. As with everything, there are direct correlations between all of these skills and the adaptability of our nervous system… so while we might think that any talk of boundaries is limited to our mindset and our ability to discern what’s what, the truth is that’s very far from the case.

On a physiological level, in order for me to be able to create appropriate boundaries, my fascial system needs to be hydrated, elastic, and tense. I literally and metaphorically need to be able to hold my own integrity, so that I don’t collapse or become rigid when my body comes into relationship with something or someone else.

If my fascia is working as it should, my internal valve systems- the internal mechanisms of my body responsible for controlling fluid and air pressure in parasympathetic- are pumping and active, allowing my body to have vibration and resonance. Without this, I am reliant on the energy of others to maintain my own level of internal energetic activity, leading to dependence and reliance- the terrible two that work in opposition to every healthy boundary.

When my body and nervous system are able to maintain autonomy in this way, now I have to be vulnerable enough to create a boundary and ultimately be willing to lose.

Boundaries are all about offering choices. They are saying to another human or to your horse, these are the choices as I see them in this situation, and you are free to choose from them.

In offering that choice, we are aware that their choice may not line up with what we want. Here is the vulnerability.

And in line with those choices, we understand ourselves as the change agent. We don’t expect anything or anyone else to change for us; we are the ones who take action.

We say, here are your choices and this is how we will respond in accordance with those choices.

Boundaries require integrity on every level and the ability to give over power- the power of choice to someone or something else. This is the freedom.

And from there, we are strong enough to stand strong and open, knowing that our willingness to lose is ultimately what allows us to truly win.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

In many ways, the world has cracked open with the discussion of trauma. It’s facilitated a greater degree of empathy and understanding; it’s allowed many people to feel validated in their experience; it’s allowed people to gain knowledge and self-awareness of how different situations in the past might be affecting them now. All of those things.

I spend a large part of my day navigating, discussing, and exploring various traumas that people present. They can have everything to do with horses or they can have nothing to do with horses. The longer that I spend in this work, the more I see that horses in many cases give us permission to explore the parts of ourselves that we would, perhaps, leave in the shadows without them.

My inbox floods with stories of childhood abuse; of accidents that have divided lives into before and after stories; of hidden secrets that people feel embarrassed to share and yet that lies with an equal and opposite pressure that if they don’t share it with someone, they might just split in two.

I too have my own experiences with challenge and hardship. Serious, life-threatening mental health issues are a part of my family tree. I have lived in psychiatric wards as a support person for a loved one for so long that people began to get confused as to which one of us was actually the patient. I have watched someone slip over the edge to insanity and held their hand while it happened, in the hope that my grip would be what enabled them to come back.

Ironically, my intimacy with what we might describe as trauma has enabled me to understand it more completely, and as a consequence, hold it with a certain lightness. The beauty of the situation is that there is no situation, no matter how dire, that is inherently traumatic. There are certain situations that increase the likelihood of something being traumatic, but still, it remains that nothing is inherently so. I looked up the definition of trauma, thinking it would be useful to contextualise it for the purposes of this writing. The Healthline definition is:

“A traumatic event is an incident that causes physical, emotional, spiritual, or psychological harm. The person experiencing the distressing event may feel physically threatened or extremely frightened as a result.”

Personally, I define it differently. To me, trauma is an incident that causes physical, emotional, spiritual, or psychological harm, and that harm continues to be felt after the cause itself is no longer present.

Trauma, to me, is when we carry the imprint of an experience forward to our present day, and consequently, the story that we attach to it becomes more important to us than the current moment that we find ourselves in (a choice that is not a conscious one).

What I’m interested in discussing then is the cultural and social narrative that we are developing around the use of the word “trauma”, and how that might keep us stuck in the cycles that we are looking to liberate ourselves from. Our trauma stories evolve from a couple of different sources:

• An expectation of a predictable response in line with an occurrence or event
• The meaning that we attach to the situation, especially as it relates to possibilities for the future

A rather low-key example for you.

My little boy broke his arm last week in rather dramatic fashion. The story of how it happened had a few compelling elements that allowed it to sit outside the norm, and consequently the people I told had heightened responses to the story. Being in the field of work that I’m in, I mentally took note of the comments which included variations of:

• Gosh, that’s traumatic. It’s going to take him a while to get over that
• Oh no! He’ll have trouble with that arm for ages! That’s no good!
• Aargh! No more climbing for him! (He’s a climbing addict that basically lives and breathes to climb)

As a child, he is generally filtered from this feedback (by me). And as a consequence, he doesn’t absorb the stories that are not his own around what the injury might mean and the consequences for the future. As a result, he meets the moment as it presents, without a preconceived expectation of how that might look or where that might take him.

As adults, we are often not privy to that same protection. We have a situation and people share their unfiltered opinions about what that means and the recovery time. And so, we create our own stories, our own narratives around the experience until the story becomes more pervasive and damaging than the situation itself ever was.

So while the use of the word “trauma” has been liberating and enlightening for many, we also need to take care that we don’t turn it on its head and load up the same word with a preconceived story and set of expectations.

In my work and life now, I understand trauma in terms of patterns. In certain situations- which can be very specific or much more pervasive- we have developed a dominant pattern, and dominant expression, in situations that we have unconsciously linked to the initial event (or trauma). These patterns are products of our sympathetic nervous system and operate reflexively, and depending on how adaptable our nervous system is overall, they can be challenging (but not impossible) to replace.

Our patterns are reinforced by our stories, and our cultural and familial stories around pain, discomfort and trauma more often than not inform the trajectory of how they play out. Meeting the reality of the moment means disconnecting from any thoughts about how or what this means and simply doing what is needed in the moment to address what presents. A simple thing that is usually the hardest.

No situation is inherently traumatic. No circumstance, no matter how challenging, is fixed.

And what’s more, we don’t need to create a new story. We don’t need to overlay a less productive story with one we understand to be more positive or beneficial.

We just need to stop making the story- regardless of whether we see that story as positive or negative- more important than the moment.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

In our movement work in JoyRide over the last couple of weeks, we’ve been working with the centreline of the body. When I refer to the centreline, I’m referring to the superficial front line of fascia that extends from the base of the pubic symphysis up to the seam of the nasal bones (the deep front line follows a similar train but attaches to the back of the same points, with some variances in between).

From a nervous system perspective, working with the centreline is a really important piece in learning movement patterns that allow for the integrity of the spine to be preserved, and in ensuring that we aren’t inadvertently triggering our fight-flight nervous system all day long simply because we’ve adopted movement patterns that are dominantly sympathetic.

For many of us, the movement of our centreline is different from top to bottom. It’s common to have a hypermobile upper portion (say from the belly button or xiphoid process to the head), but the lower portion (from the pubic symphysis to the belly button) remains fixed. The two parts don’t move in relationship to each other.

What this results in is a tipping action of the pelvis in order to move the body forward and back. The pubic symphysis acts like a teeter-totter, as the belly button extends in front of it as the pelvis tilts forward, and behind it as the pelvis tilts back. This movement of the pelvis on the sagittal plane is a sympathetic or fight-flight pattern- it’s how the body moves when it’s in a survival situation.

If we have adopted this movement pattern as our dominant pattern in different situations (think rising or posting to the trot, cantering or loping, getting up and down off your chair or just walking around), our nervous system is being sent into sympathetic or fight-flight even when the outward circumstances don’t warrant it. Not to mention the challenges we have posturally and the compromise that occurs through the lumbar and cervical vertebrae.

Learning new movement patterns and understanding more about how the nervous system manifests in the body is a key component of mental and emotional health. Our nervous system expresses through our structure. Understanding it as the foundation on which everything rests is crucial in the movement towards long-term well-being and adaptability- on every level- both in and out of the saddle.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Many moons ago, I was watching a dressage test on YouTube and at the end of it, I started scrolling through the comments.

“Wow”, one person said. “That was beautiful. So much power. It looked like you were dancing on the edge of a volcano”.

In that moment, I was struck. Dancing on the edge of a volcano. What a beautiful thought. And all these years later, it’s become somewhat of a mantra. When it all comes together, I too want to feel like I’m dancing on the edge of a volcano.

Power, pressure, intensity. Elements necessary for the volcano dancer. Riding and living on that line. In many ways, all of these things have become negative words, especially if we relate them to our horses.

And if we forget the horses for a moment, we struggle with those things when it comes to just ourselves.

Much of our social and cultural conditioning has taught us that to feel pressure, to experience tension is negative. That it’s something to escape or to remove ourselves from. And of course, there are times when that is the right and obvious course to take. Power over is a different conversation.

But pressure… pressure is what also allows us to rise. If we think of it mentally and emotionally, my approach to the experience of pressure is often what determines the outcome.

“I can handle this” and “I embrace this” creates a different set of experiences, a different path of possibilities to the knee-jerk experience of pressure or tension being something we need to escape.

These associations extend to our body also. And the reality is, it’s all a matter of perception. For instance, if I’m in a state of collapse, my body no longer holds the optimal amount of tension. My internal valve systems that create a chamber of positive pressure are no longer functioning; my fascia lacks tone and dehydrates.

As I move in a more optimal direction, the pressure and tension in my body change also. It increases. If I have negative associations with that, I can impede the movement of my body changing in a more healthful direction. I fear pressure, tension as my demise when in fact, it is my making.

Our perception is very different from reality.

If I seek to dance on the edge of a volcano, I am reminded that the perfect balance does not appear in the absence of power, pressure and tension but exists because of it. That together with softness, ease, and grace, the two elements provide the necessary scaffolding of support for something magical to take place.

In the right amounts, at the right times, in the right way, power, tension, and pressure are part of the alchemy also.

To dancing on the edge of the volcano.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

The thing is, I don’t have time.

Yes, another chimed in. We are time-poor. We would love to do this but it’s so hard to fit everything in.

I’m overwhelmed, said another. There are so many things to do and I don’t know where to start.

Last week ran to a theme. A few emails pattered their way into my inbox. Some posts appeared in my membership group. A couple of PMs slid in there for good measure. And they all said the same or similar things.

Time. We don’t have enough of it.

Exactly what there isn’t time for is (ironically) irrelevant to the conversation.

Why? Well, because we notice this story coming up in many different areas. To single one out…

I don’t have time to ride…

I don’t have time to study…

I don’t have time to do “insert thing of choice”…

… is to highlight the activity as the challenge, when actually it’s our overall relationship with time that’s gone a bit skewed.

So, as I sat back and read the messages and thought more on them, I realized something:

This wasn’t just a challenge for people I worked with, or those I came across that used a lack of time as their reason to not “do the thing”, whatever that thing may be. The idea of time- or the lack of it- was one of the biggest self-defeating narratives I played in my own head also.  

Of the times that I have felt down lately, it’s because I have been swept up in the rapids of “not having enough time”. And the thing is, from the outside, that feeling is easy to justify.

As a snapshot of my life:

• I have a family and two small children that are homeschooled. I also like to hang out with my husband, which I don’t do nearly near enough (time!)
• I have my own business and am the breadwinner for my family
• I’m studying for 1-2 hours a day
• I have four horses and I like to keep all of them in work
• I have a puppy that needs exercising
• I have all the things that need to be done to keep life in general in working order

This is not a complaint. But man alive, some days- most days- I feel like there is just not enough time. As it is, I get up at 4:30 am to fit everything in. I’m not a slacker, and I’m not afraid of working hard.

But here’s the thing:

I don’t think my schedule is the reason that I feel like I don’t have enough time. And I don’t mean that in a self-flagellating, martyr-ring, addicted to busy-ness type way.

I think it’s the narrative that I run on repeat.

“I don’t have enough time.”

That right there is really getting in my way.

And as I fed the horses last night, I decided that I was going to, for the first time, really look at the program I was running and see what would happen if I shifted it.

If you want to join me, I’m starting a little challenge that is going to run to yet another theme called:

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

And this one is all about time.

Here’s what it’s NOT going to be:

It’s not going to be a self-help mini-course on helping you get more organized. Honestly, I think you probably know all about that.

It’s not going to ask you to break up your day into smaller chunks.

It’s not going to ask you to focus on gratitude.

I don’t know how long I’m going to do it for or what it’s going to look like (honestly). Just a series of emails which some questions to ponder and some awareness-es to develop most likely.

I’m just interested in having a gently poke around at the stories we tell ourselves about time and see what shifts when we become aware of those same looping thoughts.

We’ll see where we take it from there.

If you want to join me, you can do so by filling out the form at the top of this page.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

A common situation for you.

Your horse spooks and you find yourself completely discombobulated. In fact, you are so out of sorts, that the only option you feel is available to you is to abort mission. Before you’ve really even had a chance to think about it, you’ve dismounted and started hot-footing your way out of there. The whole thing plays out on automatic pilot until you get to a point where your logical self comes back online, and you can think a little more clearly.

Not that this helps. Now all that happens is the Itty Bitty Shitty Committee (the negative voices inside your head) kicks in and you are left feeling worse than you did before.

Consciously, you want to be able to “just get on with things”. But you just can’t seem to make your body go there.

What’s up with that?

Typically, there are two things that we need to address.

1. Our physiology
2. Our conditioning (More commonly we might think of this as mindset, but really what it is a whole bunch of conditioned thought processes that we need to let go of in order to be able to create a new reality for ourselves.)

Let’s consider the first.

When I say “our physiology” I’m referring primarily to our nervous system response. In the case of spooking, how we respond to the spook is very much dependent on where our nervous system is resting. If I am in a place where I am adaptable and responsive, chances are a spook will only result in a momentary glitch. I react to the “jolt” and then find my reset button quickly after realizing there is nothing to be concerned about.

If, however, I am in the place where I am living for the most part from my fight-flight (or sympathetic) nervous system, my reaction will be very different. Now I am in a situation where the ability of my body overall to shapeshift and adapt is compromised, and the sudden spook can drive me deeper into the sympathetic response. In this case, finding my reset button often involves cycling back further than I might consider to be “appropriate”… which brings us to Part 2 of the equation.

In order to get myself in situation where I feel like I have choice- where I can use my conscious superpowers to repattern habitual and programmed responses. The place where you can choose is the first place you come to where you are both aware of a habitual response playing out, and you have the ability to choose.

Your choices are:

You continue to let your mind and body run away with you (re-enforcing the existing pattern)

Or

You can use skills and understandings to create a new pattern and start to slowly shift your experience

{Side note: I’m not trying to be cryptic when I say “skills and understandings”; this forms part of a bigger understanding and process and is a big part of what I teach in JoyRide that’s outside the scope of what we’re discussing here}

This place is what I have come to call “The Choice Zone”.

The Choice Zone sounds like an obvious and easy place to get to, with the only catch being that often it’s not. Let’s think about it in reference to the above example.

Your horse has spooked. You’ve mentally left the building. You need to find your Choice Zone.

Your Choice Zone might mean that you get have to get off. Getting off might be the only option you have to start to exercise some of your re-patterning superpowers.

Your Choice Zone might mean you need to stop for a few minutes. But maybe you’re having a lesson. Or there are people watching.

In order to truly get ourselves in a position where we are able to change habitual or reflexive responses we have to be willing to let go of our ideas of what things should look like. Many times, what is freeze framing us in time are our fixed rules and expectations about what we should be able to do or what we think we need to be doing or not doing with our horses in different environments to conform to the unwritten social contracts we believe to be in place.

I can’t get off, we tell ourselves. That’s not what good riders do.

I can’t tell my instructor I need a moment, we affirm. What will they think of me?

Creating new responses means examining looking at where we are getting in our own way.

It means noticing what we allow and what we don’t allow ourselves to do, and how that might be contributing to those moments where we feel like we are chasing our tail.

So much of our learning is not about a taking on or new things but of a letting go of all the things that came before.

Of conditioned ideas of appropriateness.

Of suppressing needs based on concerns about what other people will think.

We need to give ourselves the grace of letting ourselves learn.

Let yourself cycle back to the place where it feels like choice exists and move forward from there.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Let’s talk about “aiming for calm” as the end goal.

But first, let’s talk about sensory input (so your nervous system taking information from your senses to your brain)… it’s a related conversation I promise.

An interesting thing to think about is that as human beings, we thrive on sensory input. The more sensory information we have, the better. Why? Well, sensory input it’s what our brain relies on to decide what response to send out to meet the moment.

In every situation you find yourself in, your brain is asking, how should we respond here?

And the options are:

We can send out a parasympathetic response (meaning that we are creating a new response to meet the moment)

OR

We can trigger the fight-flight nervous system, which only ever operates reflexively.

While we’re talking about sensory input, a lack of sensory input is a big deal also. If we aren’t in a position where our nervous system is able to take in sensory information (which can happen if we live too long in our survival nervous system) then the only thing the brain has to go on is a database of stored information from situations in the past. Reflexes in other words.

If all this is getting confusing, the simple way to understand it is that when we are operating from the sympathetic or fight/flight nervous system, we are only responding with stored reflexive responses. Being able to switch back into and live and ride predominantly from our parasympathetic system is important because it’s what allows for learning and adaptability.

What interesting though is our perception of what’s happening in the body between parasympathetic and fight/flight is usually pretty skewed. We’ve also developed some interesting terminology that inaccurately represents the truth of our reality. “Down-Regulation” is a great example of this. We typically use that term to describe a movement from sympathetic activation to parasympathetic, but we’ve also coupled it together with our perception of calmness and relaxation; a greater sense of stillness if you like.

The irony is that when we are functioning from a mode of parasympathetic dominance, we are anything but still. Our valves are pumping, our structure is moving and occupying its full range of space on the transverse plane; our organs are shifting; blood, fluids, fascia are all sliding and active. It’s a full-on party in there. Conversely, in sympathetic, the activity of our inner world, physiologically speaking, becomes much less. Fascia dehydrates, the bones, organs move and lockdown around the midline of the body. We have less sensory information coming in, much less activity on the whole.

My work and priority, if I can frame it that way, is to develop responsiveness- accurate responsiveness to the reality of my present moment- rather than calm. Calm is one aspect of my experience but to aim solely for “calm” means I am attaching myself to a pre-conceived ideal that has nothing to do with what is happening to me right now. If my aim is to transcend the moment, to transcend my body, then perhaps it’s more useful to you. But if it’s to be in life, to be in your body, then the expectation of consistent calm is one that will do little to serve you.

Much of what we define as a distraction is just life happening around us; the distraction then becomes anything that exists outside of what I’ve decided I want to do in this moment. If I am truly with the moment, distraction doesn’t really exist; it’s just part of what the moment is showing me and then I can choose how I want to respond to that.

Being with the moment is a surrender to full aliveness. If I feel like I am looking spaced out or checked out in my practice of that, it’s most likely because I have attached the idea of being present with not only physical stillness but inactivity.

We have lots of cultural models and teachings that support this; where static states of being, such as some forms of meditation, are shown as the models to subscribe to and so we develop singular ideas and representations of what “calm” looks like. To be present is to be engaged; in the moment, conversation, activity. It’s to be responding to the reality of my moment, rather than the stories or ideas of future or past moments, and responding to those.

Then wind, “distractions”, flurry and bustle… they aren’t good or bad; they aren’t detracting or adding to my mission; they are just what exists in this moment and my aim is to develop the robustness to be in sync with that without feeling destabilised or diminished.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

I get asked from time to time how I deal with being online so much (as far as navigating the different conversations goes), and how I keep my centre when I come across things that are upsetting or that have the potential to push my buttons.

From a business perspective, it’s becoming less and less unique to have a business that operates in the online space but beyond that, I think most of us are in a position where we are spending enough time of social media to consider this a worthy conversation. So, with that in mind, I thought that I would share some rules, realisations and understandings that I remind myself of if ever things get a little wonky.

1. It’s all about you (in the best possible way)

My reactions and responses say everything about me and nothing about the other person. If I find myself being pulled out of alignment by someone else’s comments or happenings, I need to let go of any need for them to change and instead, look to myself.

It might be that I need to put a boundary in place; it might be that I need to step out of the story and remedy my own default patterning before I re-engage (if, indeed, that’s necessary); or perhaps it’s best served by just walking away.

In any case, I am the agent of change. I am the one that takes action… without the expectation of anything or anyone around me changing at all.

2. Do I have an invitation?

This one is a lifesaver. If I come across a post, comment, or story online that I have an opinion about, before I share it, I ask myself, have I been invited to do so? More often than not, I haven’t.

If you aren’t invited to share your thoughts (by way of the post being framed as a question or being specifically asked for your advice), then… don’t share them. Even with the best of intentions, without an invitation, your thoughts are an imposition.

Even if your motivation is to help, without the invitation to do so, you are more likely to cause defensiveness than anything else. Which makes the whole exercise a waste of both of your time.

3. Yes… but what about the horses?

I know what you’re saying. That’s all well and good Jane, but what about when there is a horse involved, and the actions are causing harm?

I hear you. And of course, nothing is black and white. There are times when intervention is necessary… and you’ll know when that is.

What I’m talking about are the comments and opinions we feel the need to share when we see something we disagree with or are concerned by. And then thing is, without the above (without looking to yourself and your own patterns, and without an invitation) you are unlikely to create positive change anyway.

These days, I flip the coin on things like that I see. I use what I don’t like as the fuel and motivation to post, share and express more of what I do like. I do my best to model what I value and hold true.

It’s the “promote what you love instead of complaining about what you hate” approach, and I find it to be the most strengthening approach for me.

4. It’s not my job (or yours) to fix anyone

This one is kind of a big deal. From a coaching perspective (and beyond that, from a human perspective), I know that it’s not my job to fix anyone. I can offer my thoughts, learnings, understanding and support. And they are there to be taken, applied and integrated, at the choice and discretion of those I’m working with.

There is no hierarchy to the relationship; we are simply adventuring together.

If I assume the position of “fixing”, I firstly assume that I am capable of that (a very narcissistic position to take) and by default, the assumption is that whoever I am working with needs to be fixed (also false).

Engaging in coach/student relationships where there is a hierarchy present and where the implication is that the coach or teacher has all the answers only creates disempowerment. If our role is to uplift, then the model of teaching needs to be founded on the premise of individual empowerment (as loaded as that word is these days).

If you aren’t empowering those around you, then we need to look to how we are using others to fulfill our own needs (and this also reflects in the patterns and behaviors we see pulsing through the online space).

It’s a big conversation, but an important one.

So there’s a snapshot for you.

Look to yourself…

See if you’re invited…

Promote what you love…

Empower others…

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

A quote that struck a chord with me today…

The structure of our body, the way that we move, how we relate to our environment and each other all change in relationship to our nervous system.

As we move into the active stages of fight and flight, these changes follow a continuum. First, we become aware, sensitised to our space and the movements within it.

Let’s say we’ve been thinking about something we’re finding quite hard or working through a sticky spot in training.

We need a plan, we tell ourselves. And because we care, and we want to do the best thing by our horses, we sit down and make a road map, a way forward.

Maybe canter’s become a bit of an issue, so we firmly tell ourselves that every session moving forward, we’ll canter to “get over it”.

Or maybe we’ve watched an online clinic with a trainer we admire, and they tell us that a well-rounded training session always includes a certain number of elements.

We can do that, we tell ourselves. And so, we set out to make sure all those boxes are ticked.

For a moment, though, I would like you to consider this. A plan can only ever be created in response to a past event and a future imagining.

I create my plan based on my experience (the past) and I use it as a means to inform how I’m going to behave moving forward (future imaginings that aren’t yet real).

Consequently, as I arrive in the arena with my plan, I need to be aware that it has little to do with the moment in front of me.

In order that I’m responsive to my horse in THIS moment…

In order that I’m responsive to myself in THIS moment…

… I need to release my plan and allow what presents to inform my movements forward.

I need to respond to my reality, not my plan.

If reality meets my plan, then it’s there to be my guide.

But don’t be tempted to overlay your plan onto reality. It will only suction you out of the moment and into your head.

Your plan exists as one of your possibilities. Have your plan but hold it loosely in your hands.

Respond to your reality.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Perspective. It’s kind of everything and yet at the same time, how much of our perspective is informed by reality?

The answer to that is, well, it depends.

From a nervous system perspective, your perspective- and what informs it- will differ wildly depending on whether you are functioning from a parasympathetic or sympathetic place. The bulk of our brain is largely dedicated to sensory and motor function, and when we are parasympathetic, all of these brain parts are online and active. Consequently, our perception and understanding of what is happening are informed by the sensory information of the moment.

What does that mean? It means is that functioning from this position, your responses are directly connected to your immediate experience, and consequently, you are able to respond based on that information also. Your perspective is reality.

In sympathetic, however, things start to shift. As we move through the active stages of the fight/flight response, the parts of our brain informing us in parasympathetic move offline, and we are left functioning only from our reflexive motor centre, our association centre (hello projections!), and our cognitive centre. As a result, we are no longer responding to new sensory information coming in but old patterns and stories that have shaped our experiences in the past.

In this place, our perception is no longer shaped by the moment we find ourselves in but all the moments that came before. Which explains a lot when we think about triggers and patterns that might trip us into sympathetic and send us on a loop of repetitive experience.

Perception. We always have to check ours at the gate.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

We humans have a funny relationship with failure, and perhaps the most curious aspect about it is that the whole thing is completely made up. I mean, the actual concept of “failure” or “failing” itself is one that we’ve created because separate to us, it’s an idea that the rest of the natural world doesn’t share, or even consider.

So, what is “failure” then? If I look at it objectively, it’s when we have an idea about something, a mental model, or a plan that doesn’t match up to the reality of the outcome we find ourselves observing. We then label that outcome as a “failure”, which creates a unique set of feelings and responses depending on what personal value and meaning we have attached to it.

Failure, then, is a misstep with reality. The negative associations we have with failure is the love child of attachment and fixed ideas, but the truth of it is, your body and brain love you to fail… it’s just that they call it something different.

They call it learning.

Learning is when we have an idea and intention about something and act in alignment with that. The outcome we get tells us whether we were close to hitting our mark or far, far away from it, and our brain uses that information to change our motor response so that we can be more efficient and on point next time around.

If you were to have a reasoned conversation with your brain, it would tell you that this idea of failure that you have really gets in the way. It causes you to play out the same reactions and responses and gets in the way of you being able to integrate new information and adapt to it.

So, if you find yourself lamenting your own failure, or contemplating a fear of it, give yourself a poke in the ribs and remind yourself that there is really no such thing. Act in accordance with the reality of what’s in front of you. You’ve taken action and that action gives you new information, which is exactly the information you need to decide on your next best step.

Failure. We just made it up. How liberating.

Onwards.

Jane

There’s a meme or a quote that I’ve seen floating around recently that speaks to the idea that “extreme independence” is a trauma response. I find this an interesting discussion to have because as with most things, if I was to question whether that was true, the answer that I would come up with would most likely be, well, it depends.

From a nervous system perspective, the ability to be independent and to both survive and do well in independence is both necessary and healthy. After all, the ability to cultivate healthy boundaries and to be able to leave situations that don’t serve us requires the fundamental belief that we are able to go it alone. Without that, we are stuck in a cycle where a relationship or situation is fulfilling a “need” in us which means our involvement in it is no longer a choice but a dependency.

To me, independence, and dare I say, extreme independence is far from a traumatic state of being. It’s saying, here I stand, taking up all the space that is owed to me and knowing that I can turn to myself to meet my needs and wants in the world. From there, I can actively choose to engage with, love, relate to, serve, and join hands with anyone and anything of my choosing, and I can do so with my whole heart- because I am both free with them and free without them.

Shunning or rejecting help or refusing to be with others is not the same as independence. This is not a choice-ful action based on self-understanding and sovereignty but an expression of unconscious concern. In this state, I don’t feel safe with you, but I also don’t feel safe with myself. It’s full of hard edges and soft centers that are fearful of emerging. But it’s not independence. Nowhere near it.

“Let’s go our separate ways together”- I like this sentiment the best.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Yesterday, we jumped into a conversation around learning that centered around the fear of ruining your horse. If you missed that and want to have a read of it, you can check it out on my blog here.

Continuing on from that, I think it’s really easy to fall into the trap of assuming fragility in our horses. Assumed fragility is when you go into a training situation or interaction with your horse with the mindset that any discrepancy, mistake, or bad juju on your part is going to make them crumble and dissolve.

Are horses tuned into us and constantly reading us? Without a doubt. But assuming that we are the be-all and end-all to their strength and possibilities is a very patronizing and demeaning position to take.

Being in life means that imperfection is guaranteed. I’m not always going to show up as my best self, even if I try. But I am going to come into partnership with my horse assuming his or her strength and robustness; that within a relatively normal window of expectation, they can handle me and my quirky ways and I can handle theirs.

In many situations, we just aren’t giving our horses enough credit.

Progressing together means allowing for your weaknesses as well as your strengths and recognizing both. It means that for as long as you stay observant and proactively adjust your actions as a consequence, you will only ever be moving in the right direction.

Assume robustness, not fragility.

Onwards.

Afraid to take action for fear of ruining your horse? You are in good company! It’s something that I hear about a lot, and it came up again in Q&A discussion I was a part of the other day. The irony is that it’s usually those riders who are committed to the health and well-being of their horse that worry about this the most, and by virtue of their concern are probably more likely to be ineffectual or cause momentary offense more than anything else (aside from it all being totally fine of course!).

If you feel like you are part of the aforementioned squad, here are some things to keep in mind:

The brain learns through trial and error and getting things wrong. It does this through a four-phase process of choice (I make a decision), action (I take action on my decision), observation (I observe the consequences on my decision), and response (I adjust so that I can be more efficient or closer to my target when I take that action again).

If we look at this learning trajectory, we can see that the action step is a very necessary step. The thing is most of us get hung up in one of two phases: the decision phase and/or the observation phase.

In the decision phase, we entertain many possibilities without taking action. This means that the unconscious brain doesn’t have any real-time sensory information to go on (which it needs to adjust its response), only imagined possibilities. When we get caught in this phase, we not only get caught up in an endless loop of thoughts but now we have a conscious mind and an unconscious mind in two different places. The conscious mind is caught up in future possibilities which the unconscious mind can’t match to what it observes in the present moment. When the two parts of us are out of sync like this, the unconscious activates the flight-fight nervous system as a “just in case” response, and then we find ourselves in a groundhog day scenario.

If we make it through to the observation phase, we also must be willing to observe without judgment. As soon as we compare or label something as good or bad, right or wrong, we dive into our emotional brain and our memory bank of comparative experiences. Again, we have the same deal. A conscious brain that is entertaining thoughts that are out of sync with the present reality and once more, the unconscious fires up the fight-flight nervous system.

Consistently taking action is necessary, as is consistently “failing”. That’s just learning. It’s the only way you can see “oh that was too much” or “that wasn’t enough” or “I wasn’t clear when I did that” … and then you get to go again.

If you are increasing energy in incremental bursts, observing your horse, and constantly adjusting in relation to that real-time feedback, you are unlikely to cause harm. And certainly, unlikely to cause harm that’s irreparable.

You have to allow your mistakes to be confirmation of humanity and again to keep deciding, doing, observing, and adjusting.

I’ll be back with Part 2 of this conversation tomorrow.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane