Breathing Blue: Giving My Life to Spirit and Spirit to My Life

By Kathleen O’Dwyer

Life changes everything. When comfort turns to restlessness it can make you itch. Many of us simply scratch but in this personal memoir Kathy ODwyer recognized the itch for what it was, the need for a more fulfilling life. Shocking family and friends she abandons her comfortable Chicago lifestyle trading in her corporate high heels for a pair of steel toe shoes and work gloves to take on management of a small ranch and retreat center in the wilderness of Aravaipa Canyon in southern Arizona. Encounters with rattlesnakes, javelinas, scorpions and coatimundis are nothing compared to the challenge of isolation and loneliness. Following an unconventional path takes courage yet Kathy soon finds it is necessary to bring about intense transformation. She stumbles along the way, strays from the path yet ultimately sheds the skin of her old life and embraces a new beginning. Reconnecting with the Earth allows her to discover her souls purpose and ultimate happiness. This work from the heart is shared through short stories and poetry during Kathys two years living next to the singing waters of Aravaipa Canyon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468532043

Kathleen O’Dwyer

After more than twenty years of writing for corporations, at the age of fifty-six Kathy O’Dwyer threw her comfortable Chicago life up in the air and moved to Arizona to take on the challenge of ranch management and writing her first novel, a memoir of her experiences during the transition.

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© 2012 Kathleen O’Dwyer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 1/23/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3206-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3205-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3204-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011963422

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Foreword

January 5, 2010 -Touchdown

Mom is Right

November 2008 – The Beginning of a Journey

December 2008 – Wanna Write!

Summer 2009 – Soul Shifting

Entering Blue

November 2009 – More Shifting

November 18, 2009 – A Leap of Faith

December 2009 –

Preparation!

January 2010

Start of a New Life

A Week Later

Animal Talk

Wrong Side of the Creek

Flood Follies

Get A Move On

Brandenburg Peak

A New Friend

Priorities

Market Day

The Customer is Always Right?

Is there a right side of the creek?

Get Those Babies Out!

What A Fool

Critter Control

Horsing Around

Stampede!

It’s Raining Men

My First Easter Away From Family

A Boyfriend? No Way!

Reality Strikes

Pain Blockers Are A Wonderful Thing

The Critters Are Out of Control!

Worst Week

Putting It Out There

Romance

Summer Struggle

Up to the Basin

Reflection

Sweet Release

I Need More Cats

Loneliness. Crushing Loneliness.

Mistake

Loss

Turning Point

Night Stalkers

Pecan Wars

Guidance

Back On Track?

Struggling

A Turning Point

The Cardinal

A Watery End

Tempering of the Spirit

People come, people go

Again

Beginnings

Release

Knowing

Afterword

Foreword

When I first told my mother that I was throwing my comfortable Chicago life up in the air and moving to the wilderness of Aravaipa Canyon she remarked you’ve always been like this. Now I am not 100% sure what she meant but I can hazard a guess: headstrong, independent, unconventional or worse. I decided not to ask her to elaborate and I believe she has come to terms with this late adventure in my life. Divorced after 25 years of marriage I lived and worked in downtown Chicago, earned a comfortable salary, had my own little place tastefully furnished, and was the consummate urban denizen. Deep down, however, my life did not feel authentic. My soul yearned for more, my heart desired happiness and I knew it was not to be found within the confines of my corporate cubicle. A bicycle accident left me with injuries and prompted me to seek out alternative healing therapies. In the middle of Chicago I found my way to a Mennonite healer named Lauryl. An elf of a woman she started me on the road to recovery and after our first treatment gave me a prescription:

1) Eat root vegetables to ground to Mother Earth

2) Dump the jerk I was dating at the time

3) Breathe blue

So began the changes to diet, the boost to self esteem and daily walks breathing deeply of the blue sky. As my body healed so, too, did my soul and I soon found myself on a path of service becoming a massage therapist and Reiki Master. And yet that was not enough. I began to put my experiences on paper and a writer was born.

My life has been no better or worse than yours although there were times I thought mostly worse. But I have learned. Each life is meant to be exactly what it is making it the perfect one for each person. So if you are reading this book to learn about the trials and tribulations of my past, to get the dirt on a rocky marriage, and the skinny on the challenges I overcame before landing at Aravaipa you will be sorely disappointed. Rather within this book you will find poems and little stories that provide insight into my time at Aravaipa. Follow your bliss they say and so I did. I am here to tell you that the Universe does not hand you a blissful life on a silver platter. Rather it wants to know how much you really want it and how much you are willing to sacrifice to get the life you desire. Like a gallant knight of the round table you are sent out to slay dragons. You have to prove yourself. You have to change. You have to learn your lessons. If you don’t quite get it the first time, you get another chance. Aravaipa transformed my life as it was meant to do. The canyon called me, the spirits pulled me, the animals taught me, the water enveloped me and I became a new person. I think a better person but I’ll let you be the judge.

So many groups came to the ranch during my time there however in this book I only share my experience with a few. The names of the people involved with those groups have been changed however I opted to not change the names of those folks I interacted with on a regular basis. They are wonderful people and have become dear friends. I have the highest respect and love for them.

I am deeply grateful to David and Joyce Rychener for allowing me to live on their beloved ranch. David said let’s go on trust and it was his trust that this city girl with no qualifications or experience with ranch life could actually handle things gave me the confidence that I could do it. Horses, wild life, tractors, snakes, flood waters, javelinas, demanding ranch guests, poverty, and loneliness challenged me. But I always knew I was blessed to be on the ranch, that it was my stepping stone to a satisfying and purposeful life. To David and Joyce I bow and offer great gratitude. The friends I have made here in the canyon will forever be in my heart. My neighbor Kathy’s smile, Nancy’s quiet calm, Vera’s laugh and good food, Jerry’s toughness, Pat’s patience with the new kid in the canyon, Polly’s friendship, and Charlie and Jeau’s kindness saw me through many challenging days. Steve and Jane worried about me, extended friendship and offered me a place to stay when floodwaters rose. The many wonderful guests who came to the ranch brightened my life with interesting stories. Linda Johns opened my mind with her loving kindness and infinite wisdom. Ann Ring opened her door and welcomed my little writing group. And hats off to Mom, my brother Bob, my children, Jillian and Matt, my sister Cindy and other family and friends who may not have understood what the hell I was doing but supported me anyway out of love. I am not sure where I would be without Laird Boulden, my former boss in Chicago who understood my need for change and sent me off with a hug and his blessing. I am deeply grateful to Bernadette Doran who introduced me to the wonder of Reiki and I offer much love to Lynn Staudacher who helped me transition from I want to write to I am writing to I am a writer. I bow to Cindy Click and Grandfather Singing Man with thanks for introducing me to the magic of the sweat lodge ceremony. Mostly I am grateful to Tom McDonald who entered my world and filled my heart with a joy I have never known before.

Soon I will leave Aravaipa, I feel that in my bones. In fact I hid my moving boxes behind the door of the little old milk house because I know I will need them. I don’t know where I am going but the Running Water of Aravaipa has given me new birth and is kicking the fledgling out of the nest. I am ready to soar and will keep breathing the blue, blue sky.

Hanging

By Kathy O’Dwyer

In the seconds before the plane’s wheels touch ground,

So much tonnage hangs in the air,

Hovering inches above the concrete

A conquering of earth and sky all at the same time,

A time of magic

Akin to falling in love

Resisting, longing, pushing back

Circling, spinning, dizzy with excitement

Holding on to the seat in anticipation

Of final surrender

A return to Heart, a return to Earth

As the wheels touch down, I realize

I have been holding my breath.

January 5, 2010 -Touchdown

Silence. The only sound I hear is my fingers tapping the keyboard. Night falls swiftly in the canyon, much quicker than it does in the city. In fact night never truly overtakes the city. I used to think the city night sky was black but in truth it is always compromised by neon, street lights, headlights and brightly lit storefronts. So many times I walked the city streets at night and never once needed a flashlight to guide my way. Black as ink we are fond of saying, but here in the canyon night is black ink spilled on black paper. And it comes quick. As I sat down to write, I noticed a ghostly cottonwood tree outside the window, its bark luminous in the twilight. I typed a few sentences, looked again and the tree was gone, swallowed by the night.

No phone, no TV, and the internet crashed a moment ago. Charlie greeted me when I arrived and told me he and his wife haven’t had TV since 2006. They live in the canyon and come around after each group to clean the ranch house. The gate was open when I arrived so I knew someone was around. I liked Charlie immediately. His long white hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. He had a beard to match and as we talked he preened, gathering his beard in one big hand and combing it straight down between his fingers.

You got any questions?

What do I do with my trash?

Oh, don’t leave anything outside or you’ll get all kinds of visitors like skunks, raccoons, and javalinas. There were ‘bout 20 javalinas here this morning. And awhile back I saw a bobcat on the steel bridge. Bighorn sheep come down the mountain and the other day I saw a peregrine falcon. Take care sticking your hand into anything. Snakes and scorpions you know. The pecan trees are pretty much done. Those javalinas love the pecans. See over there? The orange trees? The oranges are about ripe. Help yourself.

I have some other things being shipped to me. My binoculars are in there. I wish I had packed them with this suitcase.

Yep, binoculars are good to have. Hey! You have a cat. We’ve got a black and white too. And one little black and white kitten that came out of nowhere. A critter if you know what I mean. Charlie laughed and held his nose, indicating his critter was a skunk kitten. That little one is eating out of my hand now and sitting in my lap if you can believe it. Prettiest thing ever.

I shook my head in amazement.

Here’s my number. If you need anything give me a call. I live right up the road and can help you out.

Thanks so much. I feel much better knowing someone knows I’m here.

David said you could take over for us if we need you to?

Yes. Absolutely.

Okay, next time Jeau and I come to clean; we’ll show you the ropes. Jeau is my wife, not J O but spelled J E A U, a funny way to spell it I know.

That would be great. And if I could go with you to the gate so you could show me how to lock it and where the key is hidden, I’d appreciate it.

Sure. Come on.

I guess I better follow in my car.

Yep, unless you want to walk through the creek. It’s a bit frosty right now. When the creek is running, make sure you wait it out. It goes by fast and it’s safer to wait it out then try something foolish.

To my untrained eye the creek seemed like it was moving along quickly right then but I didn’t want to seem totally ignorant and ask what he meant by the creek running. I decided if the creek was moving as it was now, I was fine. If it got any higher, I’d sit it out and wait. Charlie sized me up right away as a city slicker and he was happy that he had been the first to meet me. David told me on the phone that the canyon rumor mill was humming about my arrival. Now Charlie had the scoop.

Charlie showed me the loose post on the gate, how to lock the gate and where to find the key. I thanked him for all his help and he drove off. Climbing back into the Explorer I turned around and went back to the singlewide. According to Southwest Airlines, the large suitcase I borrowed from my daughter Jillian weighed 70 lbs. It took quite a bit of effort to get it out of the car making me wish I had thought to enlist Charlie’s help. Somehow I managed to drag it out of the Explorer plopping it down on the ground sending up a cloud of dust. As I brushed off the grit I noticed dust everywhere, inches of it. My shoes puffed with each step and a fine layer hemmed the bottom of my jeans.

My new living quarters were not pretty. In fact, when I pulled onto the ranch I drove right past the singlewide trailer mistaking it for a storage shed. I remembered a sandy colored trailer with a wide deck, but here it sat green in some spots, brown in others, as if an amateur Jackson Pollock decided to use up all the leftover paint. I was halfway down the lane when I realized that I had passed it. The wide deck wrapped around two sides with pecan tree trunks for posts and the steps were fashioned of pieces of irregularly shaped colored stone. I liked the steps and the deck but the horrendous paint job couldn’t camouflage the dents in the siding or the broken window mended with silver duct tape. David, the owner of the ranch, told me that the keys were on a nail behind the electrical box. I found an old electrical pole on the east side and looked up and down that pole, running my hand over it but no keys. Shit. I had come so far.

Okay, don’t panic. They must be here somewhere. Rereading my notes I knew I had it right. They must be there. I walked back to the pole and repeated the process but still no keys and Charlie was gone. I looked overhead and noticed wires running from the back. Following the wires brought me to another pole … with a nail … with a key ring.

Relieved I walked up the stone steps to the door and unlocked it. More relief washed over me. The exterior may look careworn but the inside was cozy. The singlewide was only twelve feet wide. Thin laminate wood floor and paneling in the main room consisting of kitchen, dining and living space which was nicely furnished. A fireplace sat in one corner between sliding glass doors and a white wall with a small entertainment unit. Two beige loveseats, one solid and one lightly striped, anchored the living area. A wooden rocking chair with green cushions sat in a corner. The light oak kitchen table, inset with white tiles, edged up against the kitchen window with two matching chairs per side. The kitchen had all the amenities: double sink, large refrigerator, disposal, dishwasher, microwave, coffeemaker, toaster, even a coffee grinder. I had picked up groceries on my way but the kitchen was already well stocked. I had to make space for my food.

David told me to take the large bedroom located on the west end of the trailer. This, the master bedroom, included a private small toilet and a small closet for clothing. Another set of sliding glass doors opened up to the deck and the view of the creek. To my surprise outside on the deck was an outdoor shower boxed in with cedar planking that matched the deck floor. On the table in the living room David left me a note that said you had to let the water run for a long time to warm up the outdoor shower, but it is worth it! Oh yeah! This would be great!

Down the hall from the kitchen were a second bedroom / office, a full size bath, washer and dryer and at the far end a third bedroom with three bunk beds. This place could sleep seven people in a pinch! The furnishings were simple but comfortable. I felt at home.

A long day of travel and the swift fall of night prompted me to go to bed early. The down comforter and fluffy pillows lulled me to sleep right away but being in a new place put Kitty on high alert. I hadn’t noticed any wind during the day but it was fierce at night. Wind was a new experience for Kitty. We rarely heard the wind inside the concrete bunker of the old city condo. But here, everything rattled: the trees, the leaves, the windows, the screens. Highly disturbed by the wind Kitty paced back and forth on the bed. I tried to calm her but gave up after awhile. She would get used to it eventually.

Mom is Right

I always do this. I rush headlong into things, have a moment of what-the-hell-was-I-thinking which always later turns into WOW. My first look at the singlewide was my what-the-hell moment. It lasted as long as it took me to walk up the steps and open the door.

Back in August the company I worked for was sold and I knew my position would be eliminated. There was a strong chance that the group would launch another start-up company and it was assumed that I would be part of it. I had worked with the same team of people for thirteen years and after starting two businesses we had the routine down cold. Everyone knew his or her role without being told. We could start a business in our sleep, the team was that good.

But for the past year I have been writing. Actually, I have been writing all my life, but in the last year I started writing what I wanted to write. I still wrote the corporate spin, the company newsletters, the organizational announcements, the presentations. At work I listened carefully to what everyone said and, when it came time for a written communication, the words were already in my head and I simply regurgitated what someone else had already said.

A year ago, I attended a retreat, Finding Your Inner Beauty Workshop, at Aravaipa Canyon Ranch. Don’t let the name fool you. No make-up and hair tricks, the focus of the workshop was to discover the beauty inside, our spiritual light. And boy-oh-boy was my life in need of repair. Successful professionally, personally I flopped around like a frog without hind legs. Divorced, both adult children out of the nest and living at opposite ends of the country, feeling like a personal failure, I embarked on a course of self improvement over the last five or six years. That’s a long time but I figured after years of making a mess of things I’d be shoveling crap for quite awhile. I exercised until buff, spent a year studying to become a licensed massage therapist and followed up with certification as a Reiki Master. All this in addition to my corporate day job but there was still something missing. Still I had no voice. Smiling to myself now, I remembered my first encounter with Aravaipa.

I Am

By Kathy O’Dwyer

Sitting in the afternoon light

I can’t remember who I am supposed to be.

Straddling two worlds, the physical and the mystic, lost in the middle.

Dragonfly pays a visit, tickling my outstretched ankle.

Red as the autumn maple, translucent as the wind,

I admire his confidence and ask his direction.

As he flies away he reminds me

Look up.

I am the sky in all its iterations.

Partly sunny, partly cloudy, you choose.

Yin and yang, welcoming and dangerous,

I am the calm before the storm.

I am fleeting like the sunset,

Look close to catch the subtlety of my colors.

Autumn gold dresses the forest and I notice

Fall creeps in from the ground up. It reminds me

Look down.

I am grounded.

I am the tiny snake, yellow stripes skimming away from my feet,

Hurrying to hide his emotions he reminds me of my nature.

I am an interloper.

I am the car in the road disrupting the woodland quiet.

The pebble in nature’s shoe, crushing the music of bird song.

Bird reminds me

Be still.

Dragonfly returns and lights upon my page.

He reads a word or two then flies off in disapproval.

He reminds me

I am not as good as I should be.

I want to be the forest, old growth giving way to new.

Self-nourishing, mossy, full of decay and mushrooms.

A breeding ground, an incubator for new and good.

There are no weeds in the forest but I,

I am overrun.

November 2008 – The Beginning of a Journey

Sometimes at night in my dreams I can feel the cold clear water of Aravaipa Canyon rushing over my bare feet, soothing my soul and washing away my concerns. Located in the Arizona desert, it is a place of hard beauty, not apparent at first glance, but it creeps up on you in small ways. First you notice the river canyon that splits the soaring, striated red and tan cliffs, then the surprise of a tiny flower as you round a turn on the trail. Your senses sharpen as you take in the silvery halo of needles on the jumping cholla, the brilliance of the crystalline sapphire sky, the dusty faded reds, oranges and greens of the pebbles beneath your feet, and the praying mantis sitting patiently on a rock. It is a place of deep serenity and passionate emotions that overtakes your soul. Survival is difficult here but it is in that challenge that you find appreciation and gratitude for all that you are.

Our caravan of three cars threw up a cloud of reddish brown dust as we wound our way along the one lane road. We crossed the suspended bridge one car at a time only to find that the river wound around forcing us to drive down and through the water itself to enter the ranch. The water was low but we city slickers felt adventurous as our vehicles hit the water at high speed splashing it high like a child cannonballing into the pool.

The ranch house was large and we would live, cook, eat, pray, and play together from Thursday night through Sunday. Our mesa or altar was set in the middle of the great room adorned with roses, found objects and fetishes, a gathering place for us each morning and evening to share our thoughts. Afternoons were open to hiking, reflecting, reading, writing or whatever one chose to do. Our group numbered thirteen, a mix of eleven women and two men. I thought of the Thirteen Original Clan Mothers of Native American tradition, and despite the fact that we were not all women, I felt the number fortuitous.

That first evening, we gathered around the mesa, sharing our intent for the long