Sedona August 1991 – August 2007

Sedona, my beloved black and white tuxedo cat of 16 years passed into the spiritual realm and out of her physical body on August 24, 2007. Every day I lived with her and with my other cat companion, Sturgis, who survives her, has been a day I started with joy and love. Each and every day I have lived with them, I told them I love them, and have thanked them for choosing to be with me, and living their lives with me. When I retired to bed, I would find them wherever they were, and let them know, again, how much I loved and thanked them for their gift of unconditional love and acceptance. My nickname for Sedona was Dona, and she loved being called by her nickname.

Sedona was a very extraordinary feline. She had wisdom beyond being an animal, wild or domesticated, and I deemed her a “shaman cat” early in her life. She was an old soul in the body of a feline. She was a natural healer of a cat, and if there was a place I hurt or injured or stressed on my body, she would naturally gravitate toward that place, and set herself down beside my hurt body. I asked her to “just be a cat, not a little nurse”, but she must have sensed that was part of her purpose. She was always calm, and had an enormous, courageous heart. She didn’t fear much of anything or anybody, although she didn’t like when I ran the vacuum cleaner. She didn’t run away from anything. She loved sitting in the light of the sun, and her black fur absorbing the heat like a solar panel.



Sedona adored playing with Sturgis, but not too rough, and she would make it known when she had enough. She had a ridiculous looking fabric sewn toy fish, Teenie Sardini, which has catnip sewn into its interior that she loved to play with, and she would even wrap her little paws around Teenie while she took a snooze. Dona loved cantaloupe and honeydew melon, chicken-flavored cat treats (cookies) and if you uttered the word “cookies” she would hound you until she received her special addiction. She relished being petted and rubbed on her belly. I obliged her any chance I could.

Sedona was born in Charlottesville, Virginia. When my former husband Greg and I went to look for another cat to keep company with Sturgis, we went to the SPCA of Charlottesville. The animal shelter had a room full of little kitties, called the Cat House. There were a lot of sweet animals to choose from. A man and woman held a little black and white cat for a while and exclaimed that the cat didn’t purr, then decided she wasn’t for them and put the little girl kitty down on one of the many cat condos in the “kitty” room. Greg and I went over to the little kitty, picked her up, and she purred and purred, and that’s when Sedona chose us to be her family. Her purring was always loud and pleasurable. She loved her cat life, and I made sure I would give her as much love and affection as possible.

Sedona and I had a very special bond, and as the years grew, the bond became stronger. She loved being brushed and groomed, and she sometimes “groomed” me, by licking me for a while with her little pink sandpaper-like tongue. Last year, she could no longer jump up on my bed, so I bought her some “doggy steps”. She didn’t need any coaching from me to use them; she knew they were there for her, and that made her quite happy. She usually came to visit me on my bed before I went to sleep, or during the night. Sometimes, especially when the weather became cold, she would ask to come under the covers, and she’d cuddle with me, right in my arms, usually until I fell asleep.

Dona masked her illness, which still hasn’t been formally diagnosed. I had taken her to the vet about 5 months before because I was concerned about her, and she had an episode that seemed like a seizure. They couldn’t find anything wrong with her then. On the 23rd, I noticed Dona didn’t make it upstairs. She was lying where I left her about 11:30 pm (and I woke up about 5:30 am to feed both Sturgis and Sedona). I picked her up, and carried her upstairs, so she could use the litter box. As I carried her, I felt her life force was weak, which was unusual for her. (I naturally do energy work and energy reading, and I was very worried.) I noticed her breathing was very labored, and she used the litter box with no problem. I stayed with her for a few minutes, and watched her breathing, and knew she was struggling to breathe. I called the emergency animal hospital and got her carrier, and drove to Boulder. We got there at the animal hospital about 6:30 am.

The people at the animal hospital were so good to her, and they put her on oxygen to help her breathe. At 8:00 am, they switched over to the “vet” clinic, from the animal hospital, and ran all sorts of tests, with nothing conclusive as to what was going on. They treated her on many levels, yet there wasn’t a jump on improvement. Dona was a challenging patient for them, because they couldn’t hear her heart or lungs; every time they would touch her, and try to “scope” her, she would purr. It was not hard to fall in love with such a gentle creature like Sedona.

I observed her deteriorate in the matter of 48 hours, unable to breathe easily, unable to use the litter box, and she barely was able to move herself about without stumbling. I couldn’t prolong her suffering any longer, nor have her poked and prodded and more. It was time for me to say goodbye.

I feel like I have a big hole in my heart, and I know in time, it will heal. For now, I need to feel what I feel, which is gratitude and grief. I feel a loss that is very deep. I will do some compensation for my loss, by loving on Sturgis as much as possible. I know he is missing his companion, too.

Sedona gave me so very, very much. Dona gave me so much joy, laughter (she had a very good sense of humor as you can tell from the photo), forgiveness, and above all, real unconditional love. She taught me to be happy in the moment, and to always say “I love you” and “I’m grateful you’re a part of my life”. My heart is full and empty at the same time, thinking about my beautiful Dona.

Working with Change and Cleaning Strawberries

"Challenges are gifts that force us to search for a new center of gravity. Don't fight them. Just find a different way to stand."

Oprah Winfrey

Sometimes doing something different is, well, different!

This morning my regular “workout place” is closed. It will be closed for maintenance and upgrading of equipment for six more days. I really look forward to going to the recreation center for my exercise and stretching. I’m not fanatical, but in order to feel fitter and enjoy fitness as a welcome, regular activity, I like working out at my rec center. Marty, the smiling, upbeat, and highly goofy reception person greets me before my workout, and he always says something that has me laughing (and at 5:30 am, that is a huge feat). He takes my pass, scans it, asks if I need a lock or a towel, and then I’m on my way to working out, first with stretching, then on the cardio machines.

Annual pass holders for my neighborhood recreation center are invited to visit the recreation center in the next town over (about 6 miles away) while maintenance week is taking place. The rec center in the next town opens their doors a bit later than the one in my town, so I planned my day today to go and be there when the center opened.

When I drove up to the recreation center, I noticed a line had formed outside, with people waiting for the facility to open, although it was time to open. I never had to wait for my neighborhood center to open, so this was a different experience. Since I’ve never worked out at this facility, I had to ask where the cardio machines where (I had to go up a flight of stairs to get to the workout machines). They were situated in the corners of the second floor (there is a track around the perimeter of the second floor that people can walk or run on). This was another different environment to adjust to; another opportunity. None of the machines were lined up with one another; they were sort of staggered about so they could fit the maximum amount of equipment in the minimized space. A woman with perfume started working out next to me (and I admit, I get challenged with fragrance in a work-out environment), so I physically and mentally focused my energy toward my exercise, and the radio show I had downloaded to my MP3 player. The machine was nice, and a little newer than the elliptical cross-trainer I normally use.

I worked out for 30 minutes on this machine, and I made it through my workout; it was different than what I was used to.

I decided it was a good day to work with “different”.



When I came home, I was very hungry. For breakfast, I normally make a shake or smoothie in the morning, with protein powder, crushed ice, a small amount of juice, and fresh or frozen fruit. I blend those ingredients together so it's nice and smooth. That seems to fill me up, and I feel like I’m getting a pretty nutritious meal for the time I spend putting it together.

I pulled out two quarts of organic strawberries from the refrigerator to prep. I squatted down to a low kitchen cabinet, reached in to find a plastic colander to place the strawberries in to rinse off and clean. I also pulled out a container to hold the strawberries once I cleaned them, from out of the same cabinet. I did all this as quietly as possible, since my roommate sleeps downstairs below the kitchen, and it was still early morning.

I’m right handed, I thought I would change the way I go through the process in the present moment, so I picked up the knife with my left hand and began cutting off the green tops of the strawberries carefully, using the hand I don't normally use for writing, cutting, or doing fine detailed hand work. Precision wasn’t the key here, being present in the moment was, though. I noticed the black-handled knife in my non-dominant hand and as I brought awareness to the process of cleaning and slicing strawberries. I brought awareness to how the process felt awkward, yet I was open to the awkward feeling, and more curious than judgmental. I observed the texture of the seedy protective outer fruit, the pressure level it took to slice through the fruit, the sweet and tangy fragrance of the fruit, carefully cutting away what I perceived as a less-than-fresh spot on the strawberry. I brought my awareness to my feet, as they grounded me in the moment, on the earth, feeling the coolness of the linoleum floor through my white gym socks, knowing below my feet, downstairs, my roommate might be still dreaming. I noticed the refreshing wet feeling of the rinsed strawberries and the cool, sticky dampness of my upper back, still moist from my workout.

Doing things differently without judgment encourages me to stay in the present moment, and allows me to move through all things that are different and unknown with more faith and less fear.

Divine Purpose

"You are creating your next moment. That is what's real."

Sarah Paddison

Every day, I do my best to be aware that I am a human being with a divine nature.

Yes, I laugh and I cry, and I find myself emoting happiness as well as sadness, and everything in between. That is the human experience. I can stay in the place of judgment, even of my emotions, and that usually doesn’t move me closer to my divine purpose. Once an emotion is present, there’s no stopping it. Stifling emotions in the body creates an energy block, and in my understanding, eventually dis-ease. Emotions are energy in motion. Moving that energy of emotion and feeling and releasing what isn’t serving my higher nature is vital (as in vital signs of life). Reaching for what best serves my higher nature helps me connect more with my divine nature. For myself, I do a lot of this energy moving through dance and the 5Rhythms practice of Gabrielle Roth. Sometimes I play some music I like to sing to (usually something fun or even humorous). I also bring awareness to my body and my breath, whether I’m sitting at a computer working, or standing in line at the local grocery store.

You can try this exercise right now. As you sit and read this, bring awareness to your breath. Notice the breath coming into your body, and notice the breath leaving your body. If you sit with a backrest, notice how your back feels as it leans into the backrest. Is your spine straight, or is your posture a little slumped? Is your abdomen loose and full or tucked in and tight? Notice these things with curiosity. You don’t need to change or judge anything. Simply bring awareness to your body. You’re in the presence of your divinity simply by observing your body-awareness in the present moment, without judgment. You're focusing on your essential state of being; your body is where this expression bursts through to create your experience.

When I choose to penetrate the human shell of protection and I become fully aware, of my emotions, my judgment of those emotions, and the fear that drives my judgment, transformation has a chance to take hold. I can choose another experience. In an instant, I can choose; it’s about decision and choosing to have another experience and release the old experience. That choice of selecting another experience is more about discernment than judgment, and opening up to what I want in my life, instead of feeding the fear of what I don’t want.

The best metaphor for observing that place of transformation and choice is by simply noticing the breath. There is the inhalation, there is the exhalation AND there is the space between inhaling and exhaling. The space that connects the inhalation and exhalation is the place of nothingness and infinite possibility, the void where all is possible.

When I’m engulfed within that timeless, placeless state, I can ask myself, without the filters of my story, if I’m “on purpose” in allowing my divine nature to come through. When the answer is a resounding “yes”, I know I can have whatever I am seeking to manifest in my life.