Category Passion & Joy

Kissing A Boo-Boo

I did not turn on a light in the dark hallway last night and  scraped the back of my hand pretty hard against a door knob (ouch!). My automatic response was to put my hand to my mouth and hold it against my lips. I naturally kissed the boo-boo, as my mother had done when I was a child, applying love to a wound.

Children know that the kiss may be a distraction, but the love overrides the fear, and minimizes the trauma; the carelessness of our self, or another. Loving a wound eases the pain, by acknowledging it. It also establishes connection.

As an “adult,” I have often tried to ignore pain, curse it, or minimize it.  I mean, who needs it? But obviously I need, from time to time; to be shaken up, stunned and otherwise awakened to carelessness, usually because I’m hiding from something, some fear I don’t want to have to love. That’s scary stuff.

It’s easier to just keep injuring an old familiar wound that’s never been kissed, than to face it, forgive my carelessness, kiss it with compassion, and allow it to heal completely. I can analyze endlessly all the bits of past story stored to explain and justify the wound that caused the pain that I’ve “learned to live with.”  But love doesn’t need to understand the reasons; it just wants to love.

The metaphorical Band-aids I’ve used to cover-up fears have been stripped off in San Miguel to expose some inner places that need love. I’ve had to acknowledge and forgive myself for continuing to rewound old pains, until I could finally ignore them no longer… part of being a human!

No matter where I think love originates, I possess it in and for my own self; the ideas and the feelings reside within this mind and body, which is all I can control. The extent to which I seek and accept the love I am capable of evoking for this being I call me, is the extent to which I am discovering a new level of acceptance and peace. I sense that what comes with this freedom from fear to accept love more fully, is the joyful aliveness of the responsibility for it.

So, tonight, alone, (with no one to complain to), I was pleased to see that my natural response to my physical pain was to love it, to apply a strong kiss. I smiled to myself for not turning on the light, which was the obvious and smart thing to do; and so I was careless, reckless even, with my own wellbeing. And then, in yet another gesture of self-love, I sat down to write because writing, for me, is a practice that is full of care, and through which I want to explore and honor the ways I see myself and others waking up to love.

I hope that we all, more often, remember to turn on the light and kiss our boo-boos with affection and compassion.

Guanajuato – Revisiting the Past

On the steps of the University of Guanajuato where I modeled for the art department for a semester in 1974.

Last week I had the extraordinary experience of being 19 years old again.

As a gringa living in San Miguel de Allende (SMA), in the state of Guanajuato in central Mexico, I am often asked: “Is this your first time here?” While my last time was earlier in 2011 (see January and February archives), my first time was actually in 1974, at the age of 19. I had spent five days in SMA, en route to explore other parts of Mexico, after living and working for some months in the nearby colonial city of Guanajuato. This past winter, while in SMA for 8 glorious weeks, I had thought to make the one-hour bus trip to revisit Guanajuato after 37 years, but I simply did not do it, and might have continued avoiding my past, had it not been for a friend, author Susan Cobb, who made a date to accompany me.

Before I recount what I discovered on this recent trip, permit me to tell you how I came to live in Guanajuato in the first place: After working all summer of 1974 in Vail, CO, I managed to save a whopping $400, which was not sufficient funds to return to University of New Mexico in Albuquerque, where I had completed a year of credit. Instead, I decided to go to Mexico where, I figured, I could have a grand adventure for cheap and practice Spanish, which I had studied throughout junior and senior high school.

In that very different, less fearful world of 1974, I gave no thought to hitchhiking  from Denver to El Paso, walking across the international footbridge into Ciudad Juarez for 2¢, and boarding a Chihuaheses (Greyhound) bus south. I didn’t have a guide book or even a map, and no idea of a destination. When I couldn’t stand being on the bus a moment longer, I got off and, as good fortune would have it, I was in Guanajuato; arguably the most beautiful and colorful city in Mexico.

It is both a historic city – famous for its wealth from nearby silver mines that created splendid examples of colonial architecture and playing a major role in The Mexican War of Independence (1810-1821) – and a cultural center – with the Teatro Juarez (see images), la Universidad, the Cervatino Festival each October (that I experienced in its 2nd year, from the rooftop of the pension in which I lived right in Plaza San Roque) and a World Heritage Site designation in 1988.

Memories, at least for me, seemed to be stored in the stories I have kept and retold, and after 37 years and many travels and adventures in the interim, I was assailed, upon reentering the historic central zone of the city, by a flood of forgotten memories.

Upon entering the grand Mercado, I recalled conversations and bargaining for wooden utensils, terracotta bowls, fruits and vegetables. In those days it was normal to bargain for everything.

Guanajuato Mercado

On the street in front, the perennial hawkers and vendors seemed like the same ones from decades before, perhaps the sons and daughters of those I had seen. I imagined the layout of the hotel I had stayed in nearby, for a week, where I encountered a giant scorpion for the first time. “Don’t worry,” said the owner in response to my screams of terror, “It’s a big one. You only need to be careful with the small ones.” Although not reassured, I was enchanted by the new and foreign world into which I had cast myself.

Susan and I wandered amid outrageously colorful buildings on winding stone streets full of college-age students, just as when I was there. In my mind’s eye I could see the actual faces of my friends and recalled Beatles songs that had been sung to me in the Jardin by eager young men with guitars, wanting to impress with their only knowledge of English.

Susan Cobb, at one of many plazas in Guanajuato, where we "not-19-anymorers" enjoyed brunch.

The students walked purposefully, having places to go and friends to meet up with. I remembered how it felt to live there, to be 19 and have friends with whom to engage in late night philosophical conversations in bars and then to trudge up steep alleyways to the only cheap quesadilla joint still open at 2 or 3 a.m. I thought about how we are all in our 50s now, having lived essentially whole lives… jobs, careers, marriages, children, dreams fulfilled, or not. And, no doubt, some had already died, or suffered major illnesses and accidents.

There was no point in wondering what had unfolded for Alfredo, a large and friendly fellow whose slight by feisty madre owned the pension, or “Dirty Panther,” my funny curly-haired boyfriend whose real name was Jesus, or Marianna, my housemate who had been a belly dancer in San Francisco, as we did not keep in touch after I left. Long-distance communications were difficult and expensive in 1974.

Door to the Pension where I once lived, overlooking San Roque Plaza where the Cervantino Festival has been taking place since 1972.

But I reflected on my life and the young woman who, with no one to be responsible to or care where I was, made friends, found enjoyable work, and was courageous and present for life’s grand adventures. I realized that I am the same person I was at 19 who still does not know what lies ahead, as we never do… despite the delusion of all our planning and goal setting.

Yes, of course I now have more knowledge and wrinkles, but it’s not what we acquire that matters; what’s important is what we leave behind. I hope that I am leaving a trail of kindness and encouragement. We are all just passing through…

Aysha in Callejon del Besos (Alley of the Kisses)

After an emotional day revisting a beautiful place I once lived, I concluded that if the wondrous and predominantly benevolent experiences of my past are any indication, there is no reason to fear the future. As a Mexican boy once sang to me in the Guanajuato Jardin, “All you need is love.”

Renewal

San Miguel de Allende sunset from La Azolea bar in Centro. The sun is shining always, even when we can't see it.

It’s easy to let things slip away, through lack of attention and care. I became so absorbed in the chaos of my own change-making that I forgot the importance of the other areas of my life… but then, one cannot deal with everything at once.

While I have ignored this blog for the past five months – through a blustery and fire smoke-filled spring/summer in Santa Fe and a move back to San Miguel de Allende – I hope you will rejoin me as I renew my commitment to sharing words and images of the people, places, thoughts and challenges that are in-forming my life… because we’re all in this world together.

As ever, I welcome your comments below and hope you will share any posts you feel are worth passing along. I look forward to renewing our connection through this medium.

A NEW UNDERSTANDING OF “SPOILED” – I don’t know much about astrology but I enjoy the clever writings of Rob Brezsney and his “Free Will Astrology,” as it invariably gives me something interesting to consider. This week, for my sign (Aquarius), his admonition is to “work on what has been spoiled”.

I think of “spoiled,” in reference to people (especially children) as having been given too much, too easily, and thereby acquiring a sense of entitlement. But when something spoils (like produce or meat), it is usually because it is left to rot; unused as intended, or unappreciated and uncared for. It is neglected, forgotten, abandoned, unloved. Clearly, this applies to parts of self and relationship to others that also needing love and appreciation.

Once something is spoiled, rotten, it must be disposed of because it stinks and contaminates other things. But there are options to the garbage dump. If there is a pit or seed, it can be germinated and grow a whole new tree or plant from it. Or it can be composted, decomposed, to create fertilizer for future growth. But both of these regenerative forms take time, patience and tending to recycle and make useful again what seemed worthless and beyond redemption.

I admit that I am often impulsive in my throwing away, impatient for quick results, and do not permit the gradual and necessary states of germination and growth to happen organically. I act like a spoiled child, expecting Life to be easy and the Universe (and other people) to respond to my immediate desires.

But I am learning that while change is inevitable – whether we think we choose it or it is thrust upon us – we never can know for sure “what next” until the future arrives and we can see, if we choose to look, how  the “spoils” of our past might be wisely recycled to generate something new. So, for now, I am considering the value of adversity, mindful of appreciating all the gifts Life bestows upon me, and seeking to make use of that which I have let spoil.

Do you know what I mean?

A Windy Memorial Day and Call To Action

Memorial Day is a good time to reflect on our freedoms, the abuses of them and what we might do to reinstate them.

May the sun bring you new energy by day,
may the moon softly restore you by night,
may the rain wash away your worries,
may the breeze blow new strength into your being.
May you walk through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.
– Apache Blessing

In this beautiful Apache blessing, nature is a kind and friendly idyllic and lyrical friend. The sun brings energy, not skin scorching dryness and drought to the land. The moon is soft and restorative, not hidden in darkness or obscured by storms. The rain is gentle, not pelting or the source of devastating floods. And the breeze gives strength.

Balmy breezes are one thing, but the relentless gusts of the past few months in Santa Fe are downright unnerving. I cannot sit outside with my MacBook Pro and do my work in the sunshine – writing and tanning simultaneously is my favorite form of multitasking. Safe inside the house, doors whistle, dust infiltrates, lips are parched and eyes irritated. The fireplace makes whoomping sounds. And it’s no good for peeing outside, I am informed by a man.

It is Memorial Day, when we usually have a barbecue in the evening and eat al fresco on the back patio, celebrating what is the unofficial start of summer. Instead, we shutter ourselves from the buffeting wind, groan at the forecast for continued “high winds,” express hopes that a forest fire is not ignited by some careless fool, and resign ourselves to what we cannot control – the forces of nature – grateful, at least, for our refuge from it.

As ever, the only thing we can control is our own thoughts (remember you always have a choice: “Don’t believe everything you think!”) and actions. So even though the winds are incessant and annoying, I can look out at the blue New Mexico sky and comfort myself with the thought that “everything changes and ends.”

I can think about what Memorial Day means to me, and how we would much better honor those who are willing to die in senseless wars by ceasing to create those wars. We also can honor ourselves, and whatever hopeful future we might imagine, to stand up to the lies and platitudes of our government and ruthless corporate interests that are seriously eroding our freedoms and justifying the oppression and destruction of people and living things all over the world. There is so much beauty and joy to be experienced in Life, but they require freedom of creative expression and communication; our freedom from the insane destructive forces that control the politics and economics of the planet.

If you doubt that our freedoms are on the decline, watch this video, shot at the Jefferson Memorial of all places. And then here’s the story behind it, the worthy challenging of mainstream press through non-violent activism. I’d love to hear your thoughts below.

May you walk through the world (no matter what the weather) and know its beauty all the days of your life!

Business Lessons from a Standing Ovation

Photograph: Jens N Rgaard Larsen/AFP/Getty Images

Last night, I attended a Gary Burton/Chick Corea concert at Santa Fe’s Lensic Theater. For these two jazz legends it was the last night of a grueling global tour, although there was no evidence of burn-out or boredom.

As professionals, they gave their fans a polished and passionate performance, connecting with the audience through brief anecdotes, thanking us for being there, and playing their music with exuberance as if it were the first, and not the umpteenth, time. They were present.

At the end of two long sets, the audience responded with a rousing standing ovation and the players graciously returned to the stage for an encore.

There are two thoughts I want share from this experience:

1. The audience had already shown appreciation for the players by virtue of having purchased tickets. Money is a standard form of appreciation for something received. The performers showed appreciation for the audience by showing up, starting on time and putting on a professional show.

Nothing more was required of audience or performers. Therefore, the enthusiasm of the audience and gracious response of the performers were “icing on the cake” for both. Being extra-appreciated, as a consumer and/or provider, costs nothing extra and leaves everyone with positive feelings.

2. Standing ovations are a cultural phenomenon associated with the U.S., and seen as crass by other cultures. I am told that in Japan an impressed audience will clap incessantly, even through an encore, but they do not stand; and certainly do not whistle or whoop. As a performer (or business provider), it is critical to understand and communicate with your audience (or market) on their terms.

Nothing feels so fine as a standing ovation, or the equivalent. In my businesses, I have experienced the equivalent when a client has thanked me with a gift, referred an associate or become a friend. I hope I have expressed my appreciation in similar ways, and I hope that you, reading this, know I am grateful for your time and participation in this blog!

How have you experienced a “standing ovation” in your business, or given one to someone in theirs? Please comment below.

Transitioning To A New Story Of Connection

Charles Eisenstein, author of "Ascent of Humanity", spoke to Journey Santa Fe group this morning

Depression. Anxiety. Despair. We are familiar with the morass of emotions regarding old systems and beliefs that separated us and no longer work, and new creative ideas and ways that connect us but are not yet fully developed.  We know things must change, but it’s often difficult to imagine ‘how’ when it seems the “powers-that-be” are so entrenched and destructive.

This morning, I was feeling pretty sad, thinking of the Japanese nuclear meltdown and the U.S. obsession with war. Just yesterday, as one small example, 165 Trident missiles were shot into Libya at $1.5 million each, or $250 million dollars (just a tip of the iceberg of the day’s military expenditures). How can we reconcile this recklessness and dollar expense with the death and destruction of Libyan lives and the fact that every aspect of our society needs rebuilding? We can’t. It doesn’t make any sense… except if we see it as the old story that is passing away.

“When something is almost finished, it takes on an extremely grotesque appearance. We are in the death throes of the civilization we’re living in. As institutions and systems crumble, we are in a world in transition,” says Charles Eisenstein, author of “Ascent of Humanity”, about the history and future of civilization from a unique perspective: the evolution of the human sense of self.

This morning, I had the pleasure of hearing Eisenstein speak, sponsored by Journey Santa Fe at Santa Fe’s Travel Bug store.

Eisenstein, 44, sees this time in history as one of great transformation. He is hopeful, but not idealistic; visionary, but not unrealistic. His message encourages us to see what is passing away and what is being born, recognizing we are in a liminal state; on the threshold of turning from systems of exploitation and separation to those of co-creation and mutual care.

Looking at what has been and no longer works, Eisenstein explained how the money game, based on interest-bearing debt, converts nature to goods and relationships to services, thereby creating scarcity, competition and mindless greed that has separated us from one another.

He talked of those so engrossed with the virtual world that “they do not see or care that earth, ecosystems and people are dying of neglect. We have seen our selves as separate, and even the story of self is ending too. We’re learning this painfully.”

The importance of stories
“We don’t believe in the old stories, but we don’t have the new stories yet,” said Eisenstein, holding out the vision that our new story contains and embeds a new story of the people, connected. He is sure that “We are here to love and co-create our relationship with earth.”

There are many examples of how things are changing and we are acknowledging the importance of our hearts. He cites “alternative medicine” and “holistic approaches” which many people in our society now seek. Another example is hospice. You can ask your logical mind, “What difference does it make to be with a dying person?” Our hearts know this is significant but our minds don’t understand. As we’ve all experienced, our mind argues with our heart. It is time, he contends to guide our choices in a different way.

So, how do we make this transition, to write and tell this new story of the people connected?  “This is evolutionary,” said Eisenstein. “We need to undo the ideology of separation, undo the old stories, listen to our heart and what it wants to say, “yes!” to.  We need to cultivate the connected self.”

The role of the Gift
His idea for cultivating the connected self, or community, is recognizing the role of the Gift.  Eisenstein explains, “In traditional money-based economy, if there’s more for you, there’s less for me. In the gift-based economy, if you have more than you need, you give it away. Ecology works like this. We know this but we don’t believe what we know.

“Most of us spend our lives doing things we don’t really believe in… for the money. I’m pretending to care because I’m paid to. You find yourself asking, ‘What about MY life?’  If your gifts are not totally expressed and received, you feel you’re not living your life.

“Our desire is to want to give and enact our purpose here. Community is woven from gifts and stories, and reliance on one another. In our society, money replaces the need to need or appreciate another – ‘I paid you!’  Gift creates a tie. I feel gratitude for the knowledge of having received, and give in return.

“Gift expands self. Greed becomes insane.  To give and receive is balance. To refuse gifts is stingy, selfish, rude. Give your gifts. Trust your desire to give, and the universe responds to it. Visualize to ready yourself to say ‘yes!’”

How do we infuse today’s world with properties of the Gift?
In a word: Appreciation. In my experience – as a human, a woman, a writer, a coach, someone for whom the human story is endlessly fascinating and human relationships of kindness and decency supremely important – I am in full agreement with Charles Eisenstein that changing the grotesque old story of separation and disconnection to a new one of love and connection begins with appreciation of one’s self and the world we each create moment-by-moment through our thoughts, words and deeds.

May we each hold the vision Eisenstein articulates of reunion, not separation. We know that old game and it’s not working. It’s time to wake up, listen to our hearts and share and receive our gifts. I welcome your thoughts below!

Eisenstein’s new book, “Sacred Economics” is due out July 2011.  To read more about all this and get connected, I recommend his blog, Reality Sandwich, “evolving consciousness, bite by bite, counteracting the doom-and-gloom of the daily news.”

Pursuing Her Dream As A Young Artist

Mirasol Mendez, future San Miguel de Allende artist

To dash out to the store for eggs, cheese, bolillos, avocados, bananas, I need only to walk a short block to the corner tienda where Marisol and her mother, Carmen, greet me with huge smiles and easy conversation. Mirasol is a beautiful 21-year-old who is learning English by watching TV.

When we first met, Mirasol confided that she would like to work for an artist and be a painter herself. “Why would anyone hire you?” I asked. She shrugged and made herself small like a little girl, no doubt believing it’s impolite to toot one’s own horn. I rephrased the question: “How would your best friend answer that for you?” She puffed up and said with a swagger, “Because I’m very creative!”

I have been nudging Mirasol to enroll in Casa Cultura, a state-sponsored arts and crafts school she did not know existed, with the idea of creating a portfolio. “I’ll need that to go to Instituto Allende,” she declared, obviously having imagined herself attending the prestigious art school.

Carmen supports her daughter’s dreams. “I didn’t have the opportunities she has,” she admits with pride in providing Mirasol the chance for a different life than that of her own: 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, behind the counter of the family business.

Today when I entered the store, five weeks since our first conversation about her wanting to pursue art, Mirasol jumped up from behind the counter cluttered with jars of candy and bags of chips and nuts, and announced, “Surprise, Aysha! I went to the school and got the schedule!”

“Fantastic! Did you sign up for courses?”

“Yes. There is only one painting class, on Mondays, and I have signed up.”

“Wow, that’s terrific! When I return next year, I would love  if you would give me one of your first drawings or paintings.”

Mirasol smiled broadly and shook my hand firmly: “I promise, Aysha, and I will write a dedication on it too.”

It will be among my most cherished possessions.

Happy Valentine’s Day From San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

The Mexican culture is inherently romantic, colorful and festive. Since this is my first Valentine’s Day here, I don’t know how widely it is celebrated – there are so many saint’s days and other holidays! But here are a few images of love and hearts I’ve captured to share. May love, joy and appreciation fill your heart!

Pilgrims

Pilgrims line up for breakfast in the campo outside San Miguel de Allende on the first day of their 9-day Caminito de San Juan de Los Lagos

The pilgrims who began their 9-day walk, or Caminito, to San Juan de Los Lagos, should be arriving today, to receive the blessing and miracles of Our Lady of San Juan de Los Lagos.

Nine days ago, in the pre-dawn darkness, in front of Harry’s Bar in el Centro de San Miguel de Allende, a few hundred San Miguelitos, like myself, gathered to join them on the first leg of this centuries-old journey.

While the pilgrims come from all over Mexico to participate in what is considered among the most significant and grueling pilgrimages, leading to the miraculous image of Our Lady of San Juan de Los Lagos, us locals were raising funds for the Domestic Violence Prevention program at C.A.S.A., a organization serving poor adolescents and rural women and their families since 1981.

Trish Mar, San Miguel Walk Coordinator
The annual San Miguel Walk raises funds to end domestic violence. Shown is a banner of Our Lady of San Juan de Los Lagos, known for miracles helping women and children.

Domestic violence crosses all cultural and socio-economic boundaries; it is reported in 60% of Mexican households. C.A.S.A., housed at a beautiful facility west of centro, provides education and training, focusing on early intervention and building knowledge and skills so individuals are better prepared to manage their own lives. Additionally, the organization offers a community center for young people, maternity hospital and family health clinic (free HIV testing, pap smears, birth control, etc.), Mexico’s only government accredited school of midwifery, child development center, library, counseling, anti-violence program and a number of outreach, advocacy and school-based programs. Indeed, a worthy organization to support!

Young people support C.A.S.A. and Mariposas San Miguel with their butterfly wings and a banner proclaiming: "No More Beating""

Also participating in the 8th Annual San Miguel Walk were supporters of Mariposas San Miguel, the slogan of which is: imagine a world without violence. Former Santa Fean and well-known artist, Lena Batula, founded Mariposas and is devoted to empowering indigenous women, from rural areas in the region, to produce colorful and functional hand-crafted products, thereby taking charge of their lives and supporting their families.  If you’re looking for a beautiful, unique gift for your self or a friend, you’ll find it at Mariposas online store and support the vitality and independence of these talented women.

*            *              *

As I was standing in the field, snapping photos, a slight and seemingly shy young man of maybe 20, approached and asked in Spanish if I were a “peregrino,” a pilgrim. “No, I am sorry but I am only here to see the beginning.” “Too bad,” he replied. “Have you walked this before?” I asked. “Oh yes, many times. This will be my fifth.” “Are you walking alone?”  “No, I’m with my parents,” he said, pointing to an elderly couple walking slowly arm and arm across the grass, his father using a cane. “They have done it 12 times.” “How can you take off for nine days and walk?” “How could we not? It is our faith.”

San Miguel walkers, against domestic violence and for C.A.S.A., cross a make shift bridge to join the Pilgrims
The sun rose as we walked through the dusty outskirts of San Miguel and into the countryside. While the Pilgrims continued on their journey of faith, we returned to C.A.S.A. in the hope that our small effort will make a difference in the lives of women and children served by this exceptional organization.

Who Says? How To Stop Arguing For Your Limitations

“Argue for your limitations and sure enough they are yours” Richard Bach

All day long, in one communication and another, I heard dear friends use emphatic statements to describe “how it is,”  as if they were speaking the absolute truth, like:
“It’s really hard to…” find a publisher, a place to rent, get away, land another job, leave a relationship, find the time, get organized, etc. “I must be in the wrong place.” “You can’t expect to…” “That’s just how it is.”

WHO SAYS?

I can hear my parents’ voices raising that question time and again, when I’d insist, “it’s really hard to…,” “it must be a mistake,” “I can’t just do that!”, “that’s how it’s done,” and so on. I have them to thank for that lesson in Mindfullness – questioning not only the status quo and “authorities,” but encouraging me to think for my self and not make excuses.

I can’t say I never fall into that kind of mind-numbing, matter-of-fact phraseology, but I know that upon questioning, “Who Says?”, or (in Byron Katie’s words, “Can you know that’s absolutely true?”) the nonsense of it becomes clear. Insisting on limitations, road blocks, lack of alternatives, is a way to stop our selves, to justify “no reason to try” or consider options and possibilities. We overwhelm ourselves with what we believe is an insurmountable challenge. We collapse into escape, fantasy or smallness rather than experiencing the joy of creatively making our way through to satisfying conclusion. Once we believe any idea to be set-in-stone, we become as hard and inflexible as rocks.

Such statements are no doubt born of fear; fear of failure, loss, embarrassment. Fear always contracts and limits. The heart yearns to open up, the mind loves to find solutions and the body to breathe deeply. So, I can trust that whenever I declare “how it is,” my body will respond either in tension and contraction, or relaxation and expansion.

When I hear myself saying or thinking, “I/you can’t…”, “It isn’t…”, “There’s nothing I can do…”, I sometimes remember to ask myself: Self, does that thought feel deadening and self-justifying, or is it exciting and enlivening? I hear my parent’s asking, “Who says?” And I just have to laugh at what a stubborn little girl I can be sometimes… and my girlfriends too.