Inspired Words On Productivity

     Are you trying to change your life? Maybe just a single habit? Since life improvements seem to be a reoccurring theme lately, I'm inspired to write about it.

     What could make bad habits turn into healthy ones? There are a lot of life enhancing blogs  rampaging the interwebs available. What I like to say is, "concentrate like orange juice."

     This is much the same as the focused Lazer beam concept. Working on myself and managing to lose a whole five pounds has shown me results in targeting work/life/writing balance.

     So, naturally the improvements anyone wants to achieve can be put to the test.

     Implementing attitude directly affects your life. People talk about living your best life and being the best you. I truly have started experience both - in the day job I'm currently employed at and in my personal life.

     Is there a secret? The answer is simple - No.

     However, you have to look at your experiences.

     What do I mean by this?

     In thinking about the big picture, alternately realize that wanting to be better will take time. Managing everything in your life forms either a ride in or lack of motivation. How do you remember the opportunity to be mindful?

     Does energy really have anything to do with our personality type?

     I don't know about you, but are distractions really all that bad? Is it wise to dig deeper into the risks of intentional side-stepping?

     These are just questions about the restructuring of lifestyle - it's surprising how easy it is to take care of yourself once you learn to really pinpoint weakness.

     Making connections within your life leads to a happier fulfillment - dreams are important to these types of discovery. Realize that energy and motivation really do aid in productive success. Consider what makes you tick and what holds you back.

     Cheers!

    Was this helpful? Email me at amberleecoyote@gmail.com

   

My Back, My Sin, Gypsy Grass and the Turnaround

amberleecoyote@gmail.com

     At the heart of every story is Love.
     "Find the love," they say. "It'll be fun to seek where it is most sought," they say.
     Missing and as misguided as I've been these past few months, this love that folks kept encouraging me to find remained hidden. 
     My intent is not to return from the abyss with riddles for you to solve. It's just that introversion had hit my most sacred of duties - writing. Let us dare hear what it takes to find wisdom through effort.

• My writing reveals a certain anxiety.
• Evolutionary growth leads to questioning.
• A lack of fulfillment.

     I've been away for a little while. I've been at odds with what benefits my quest for self knowledge.

    The idea where I need social hibernation to understand my deep needs.

• Conflict with the day to day.
• Creative planning lends value to staying consistent.
• Creative confidence.
• Without sustained energy, writing doesn't happen.

     Asking for Heart Drive and Heart Attraction is like asking who's demons play well with ours. If a sacrifice is given more than once, does unconditional love become lack luster? Accepting responsibility for life should equal some kind of growth, right? Being satisfied is My Back to this post.

     Immersing myself in a unique way along this journey has helped in discovering instincts long buried. Lasting personal growth isn't linear. As my spiritual awakening empowers this change, my entire being is becoming actualized.

     Illustrating my shift in perceptions left me wrestling with some things. Thinking stuff through left me struggling to define a clear vision. It comes down to priorities.

     You may have noticed this, but I'm a die-hard rebel by nature.

     Full potential is often overlooked by a person's temperament. Avoidance and disconnect from my own writing led to a mistrust in the qualities that truly make me whole. Painful patterns like depression and questionable choices kept emerging.
     My focus doesn't belong squarely upon relation. It belongs in reflection. Somewhere along the way I've clearly misunderstood the approaches I need to take in gaining INSIGHT. The lack of focus, bad habits and distractions are by and large the reasons for this blog post title.
     Separation from blogging essentially kept me from the peace which I needed. Loose ends had to be tied up. Authentic power originates from that unconditional love thing I mentioned earlier. The profound sense of value from staying consistent gives me a joy I figured was too difficult to find.

     "Go forward with Courage," the Great Trickster tells me.

     I have come to realize that inner suppression isn't the same as inner knowing. Getting a grasp on this notion has since directed a passionate understanding of My Sin. I've been preoccupied with "what's missing" for so long. Healing the wounds of separation from my mom's passing last year and being without a mate for over a decade haven't necessarily been a dance around the Maypole, either.

     I'm honestly proud of the small commitments recently burned out of my chest. The gratitude I feel is overwhelming sometimes and I hold onto that feeling silently. A personal development in deep meditation practices for the Heart is one of those flaming investments. In order to admire the Heart Drive, I must dig deeper against the thorns and walls surrounding my mysterious beating vessel.

     Knowing who you are consciously enough to take action makes a person feel like something more than flesh. This blog helps me to contribute my Coyote given gift of writing in a meaningful and fulfilling way. Sometimes my emotional energies block out what really matters. Responding to life situations with inflexibility kept my essence in lock down. This is My Back and My Sin.

Gypsy Grass

     New levels of creativity led to a lasting stability in my recent transformation. I'm considering a blog post about the difference between indie/hipster and bohemian lifestyles or fashion; if there even is one at all. As liberal as these trends are, I've noticed their interconnection within my own rising spiritual maturity.
     The other day I found myself in an open space of grass while reflecting on my body's life force and it's reciprocity to the heart and mind. Understanding my instincts and thought processes allowed the embodiment of a single word to form within my chest. -GYPSY-

     Somehow I felt more alive and empowered in that present moment. It's taken me years to reach inside myself and feel as confident as I do now. Awareness of this healthy energy chaperoned a furtherance of self love. I've always been a compassionate type of person, but to be fearless is a skill requiring positive patience to manifest.

     This year was the most painful I have ever endured.

     To become what I Desire, the year of Grief must yield to one of Healing.

     I'm grateful for the Love of my sweet Mama.

     She's gone on a QUEST to find a new journey, taking everything she's LEARNED along with all her MEMORIES.

     The light in my future without her emanates from the Higher Being within myself.

     How does one truly reflect what they respect?

     To recognize and seize opportunities to become a more well-rounded person.
   
     This is what Gypsy Grass ultimately taught me - find a way to creatively plan with confidence.

THE TURNAROUND

     What brings on the next phase?

     Deep down I already knew the truth. Experiencing stronger self love makes a soul recognize the inner patterns that drive the outer behavior.

     The frequency I find myself vibrating at prepares for forgiveness and a humble satisfaction.

• Are you still a work in progress?
• How will you expand your horizons in the coming weeks?
• How will you cultivate your cosmic connections?     

     May I suggest places like Pinterest, Quora, Soundstrue.com and The Shift Network to provide supplemental resolution.

     Under this velvety sky, keep watching closely for clues from the Universe on how to stick your own spiritual landing.

     It's okay to be slightly on edge if you suddenly find yourself strong enough to fight and clever enough to win.

Reno Beauty part 2

     I want to give a motivated shout out to not only hair and makeup as justifiable points of beauty, but to the art of dressing tastefully for one's body type. I've thought a lot about how beauty is all encompassing. People from all over the world generally enjoy looking confident, and big ups to women who dress in self empowering ways. I have had such an enlightening time getting to know the why's and how's that go into such a broad subject like beauty.

     Conversations about being thin and pretty aren't heard when I ask about beauty might look like in the coming seasons. Bare midriffs aren't as much of Reno's culture as functional work clothes or coveralls can be. Getting notes from tattooed artists and opinions from skaters with facial piercings made me remember why I wanted to start blogging in the first place. Perhaps there are areas of  beauty that need clarification, while other areas are more obvious. Networking itself is a beautiful thing.

     Processing these things through the filter of what imI trying to express sometimes becomes more of a beast than a beauty. Some say it's only as good as your last look.

     So, for Reno, what's a signature look, well, look like? What's a satisfying objective? 

Landscape, Culture and Influence

     I'm trying to steer away from too much style and fashion in this second half. Honestly though, what is the local look? Yes, Reno has music and food, but it's the look that Im trying to examine. How is it different from surrounding metropoli like Denver, Seattle or San Fran sexy? High society isn't a factor here, either. 

     Growing up here, its tough to clearly portray our diversity because it's so blessedly normal for me. Short, pink colored pixie cuts? A glam, go-go look? Country, flannel and boots college student? Check and check. There's a quiet confidence in Reno created by an edginess. 

Maybe there's nothing mysterious about Reno beauty at all.

While an early Nevada look escapes the current scene, I have hope for styles of a prohibition or steampunk inspired ideal could emerge. I'm impressed, also, that the word "imperfection" has no place in the playground of Reno beauty. Cosmo and Elle can keep either side of America's coasts. As much as Northern Nevada tries to compete on a large metropolitan scale, the citizens and locals enjoy our quiet autonomy. Reno beauty is no exception. 

     A suntanned raccoon look matched by a snowboarder's tan isn't just desirable and envied by the less athletic, it's a badge. A dusty skinned torso and braided hair isn't just pushing a photo on a travel mag, its the normal wear for a DPW workaholic. While creativity flows through our art and music like the Truckee river, Reno beauty plays it practical and unique reflected through passionate culture. It's about comfort and function.

Beauty starts within and shouldn't be labeled.

     Self worth is what matters. The personality of the Truckee Meadows sees a lot of trends ebbing and waning with each passing festival, crawl and year that rushes through town. 

     What's the appeal of Reno's true beauty? If it's the outsider's view of skaters in spaghetti tops and overactive pastels, heck, they wouldn't be wrong.

Reno Beauty Part 1

     As a Reno native, I know the kind of view that awaits the newcomer to town from an insider's perspective. Where the dust encircles small casinos, I enjoy a special advantage most observers don't have. Sure writers of this town focus on the food of gastropubs, keep up with the hipsters of breweries popping up everywhere and Pin the art of the week. But this post, ladies and gents is on the culture of Reno Beauty.

     I imagine the subject of our cultured beauty as a rock-a-billy, hardcore punk scene. In a city with an artistic heartbeat, I went organic and asked some people and friends in the business as to what they see daily in our town. I knew that there is a mix and needed an outside perspective on what could be included. One of my bestest friends who received her education through Milan institute and offered the trends she's recently seen throughout Reno. The Country look. The Punk Rock. Check and check. There's also the tattooed indie/boho look of clean hippies here in town. And while we have the artsy folks downtown and in midtown, there are the active and wealthy women not more than 45 minutes up Mount Rose into Tahoe.

     Now that I have the main types of Reno localized, what are their common trends on beauty? In the past, silvers in women's hair and hombres were the signature look. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. If you would've asked me a year ago if I could ever see myself asking beauty professionals what the "in" trends were for a blog I'm writing, I would've given you a resounding No Way. Writing stories about my hometown, though, I would jump at any subject because I love a challenge.

     Fearless I was in asking what could be trending in beauty now. Me - a woman never really focused on creating different styles for my own self, finds herself taking notes on this unique blend of country, rock and Earth styles worn by the women in my city. The most difficult part of doing this research is boldly creating a confident piece. 

     My best friend, the professional Stephanie Pakalns, at Cottage Clips & Tips Salon tells me how the market is crowded with requests for mermaid hair; and as we eat at Greatfull Gardens she points out a prime example. Fortunately, I had seen the teal and green hair enter simultaneously as my friend's verbal observation. 

     This particular blog post has offered me a transformative experience in seeing how the women of Reno want themselves to be seen. Circling back on why trends are critical, as well as short lived, I noticed that it's the diversity that lends to the importance of Reno beauty. It seems like an opposite effect to be hyped for a natural look.

     "People are embracing their natural looks alongside the spring trend of mermaidism," Steph tells me. 

     I've never thought this way. I do, however, understand the wild connection and intense feeling our Reno residents have with the region around us. Typically, I see the Reno beauty scene as dreadlocks to community garden tenders and short, sporty Bob's  fo the ladies up north who bike the Tahoe rim trail.

     While these looks are systematically true, what's starting to manifest are curls, brows and lashes. The compelling part is that age difference plays no part. Curls for the younger Renonian involve free flowing waves synonymous with the mermaid visual I'd mentioned earlier. Curls for an older, active type so seen in women's business faires are naturally short and out of the way of a bike helmet and easily subdued in case the Zeohyrs pronounce themselves. Quick and thin are the days of eyebrows past. Thick but clean brows are the natural look for the groomed millennial and Boomer alike. Lashes seem to satisfy the criteria of draping the windows to the soul. 

     Very often my questions help me to see things I didn't before. Perhaps it's the money involved that I fail to value most in understanding why people go to such lengths to achieve beauty. Digging deeper for inspiration, I'm finding that people will pay any amount to look like the lastest Kardashian. People will advert their eyes, lick their teeth and hold their chins to get that shade of beauty just right. Embellishing their looks with far too bright of colors and detailed cat eyes takes away the desired view they truly crave from society. I admire the ambition of embracing a natural look for women who have tried every trend out there. 

(Stay tuned for Reno Beauty Part 2 tomorrow!)

Worthy of the Next Steps?

     Wrestling with strength. Nerves sharpened by skill. Sometimes I can be too easy on the Universe and too rough on myself. As I approach Valentine's day, there's a tendency to promote a Singles Awareness agenda every year. I went out to the Brew-ha-ha, Nothing Like a Came at  the Midtown Wine bar and listened to Dr. Angela Davis speak at UNR these past few busy weeks.

     The surest way to kill lonlinelon is to get out, right? It's my job as a writer to explore such events with specific integrity. I'm curious about how people reacted to the positive affirmations I wrote on their snowy car hoods and windshields. Certainly the aggressive lesbians of Reno could benefit from anonymous messages directed towards their karma.

     I believe this year and blog will be full of similar experiences and I know it'll all be done as the Universe keeps me single. How exactly it ought to end is a transformation to be earned. This isn't to suggest that I'm not above diabolical antagonizing. I can imagine that the reasons for attending such events single might be related to a requirement of zero distractions. 

     Something in the paradox of listening to examples of Anarchy and writing about experiences of actually living it is that I may discover the true reasons as to why I am worthy of the next steps. I don't want to lose touch with my initial implies. That's one of the best things about being a coyote! We're all worthy of staying connected to our impulses.


( Please find my website to read up on some fiction and creative projects I've worked on.

panamberlaughter.wixsite.com/amberleevelasquez

Thanks!)

From My Personal Universe

     The more I analyze my situation, the more reasons I find to travel. Sooner or later I come to the realization that travel is what keeps my coyote nature working. There's a difference between traveling around in my beloved desert and going road trip to neighboring states. To learn the many secrets my home has yet to reveal is an ongoing adventure in itself; to have a chance at going to what I consider a second home, Fort Bragg, California, provides context for new posts. A long time ago I knew words needed purpose behind their meaning. I want to convey a larger meaning as I did in journals past.

     At times, travel found purchase in my life through invitations from friends. I'd wake up every morning pumped in the knowledge that there was always more ground to cover and stories to be told. If I could travel full time, I might be ridiculously happy. But, as I continue living in the same place for longer and longer periods of time, I begin to notice wether or not my own story is building in meaning as I get older.

     Regardless of whether I'm writing fiction, letters of intent or these blog posts, there's a consistency I fall into when I'm traveling. Connecting the day's experiences to relative meaning is what I want. It's common, especially on the first few nights, to drive myself to sleep from writing all about what's gotten me to that night's bed. My motives shown to prove different this time around.

     One must understand that a drive from Reno to the Mendocino coast with two toddlers in the car is a tough venture in maintaining patience. It is quite possible I acknowledged the reality of tantrums peppered along our trip. When a friend asks you on a road trip, not too many things should keep you from saying no. The tension from too much time in a car (6hrs) was undeniable, but my motivation to leave Reno for a few days was made clear once we left the snowy Sierra behind. I wanted to be in the green, the mist, the salt air of coastal forest. What can I say? I have restless soul syndrome.

     My life has seen me in specific places over and over again. Fort Bragg, CA is somehow the yin to my desert yang. The Patten's and synchronicities that's led me there time after time are fascinating. From best friends underlining how much I would love it there, to the confidence I find myself shimmering in when I'm barefoot in the sand, there's a sense that something likes me learning lessons along  the Bohemian streets and Raven filled trees. Thinking about the lead up to get there, I tried not to confuse my local arrogance with the aura of confidence I emit as a tourist, a visitor from a dry and sparse territory. Simply trusting my journey wasn't enough. This trip was about making new stories to tell. The Travelodge on Main Street was where I would explore this theme. 

(Image owned by Booking.Com)

     I worked my way around three gummy sleep aids and the sound of rain outside the window once we all settled in. 

     Savage was the ocean that tried to suck in my friend's boys the following day. Although the grey beaches and cold water complimented the sage we burned, her little guys learned the value of Pudding Creek tides.

(Image owned by Californiabeaches.com)

     Something was missing, however. The discovery of an old friend's house up for sale didn't amount to much surprise on my end. Over the wet highway and through muddy back roads we drove. It had been seven and a half years since I last visited those deep green forests. We slipped from the cover of fog into an old growth meadow. The fruit stand/organic chocolate shed wasn't enough to keep me interested alongside my friend and her kids, nor was the friendly orange and white cat with the extra thumbs on his front paws. The cost for a couple of oranges and apples didn't amount to much.

     It isn't enough to say, " I went on this trip to get in an adventure and outta town for a bit." Certainly freedom and travel are universal desires. I could hear the cars winding through the mountains behind us, smell the ocean and feel the misty rain on my face behind the shed as I broke away. My driving want for a moment's peace was made apparent the more I heard croaking frogs around but not nearby. Unless I could find meaning in my pull towards the hidden frogs and green meadow, all of these experiences would've lacked my natural attachment to Fort Bragg.

     While I continued to bask in the perfect blend of unique sensory enlightenment, a pattern began to reveal itself for the rest of my time on that trip. Spiritual atonement. I discovered that my desire for spiritual security is a fact of life. Exploring through this driving want of a lens is apparent. I was able to revisit overgrown parks where I found messages carved into manzanita trees and recognize old drug friends coming out of tattoo shops. My desires for inspiration were instantly cured with ice cream from Cowlicks and lattes from bustling cafes.

(Image owned by TripAdvisor.com)

     By doing these things and making dinners for my little impromptu family in the evenings on a portable camp stove in our temporary home, I felt alive and refreshed. Some beaches were grainier than others. Some random acts of kindness even felt related whenever I thought about it. Is it so clear that I'm hungry as I walk down the street and someone offers me a bag of chips?

     Meaning was provided when I found the perfect beach to spread my grandmother's ashes and mom's hair. I could set them free. I ambled around a small river to a gnarled tree jutting and twisted from the side of a cliff. It felt somehow wrong to hide my emotions from the splashing boys and defending the solitude I needed to an understanding friend. The young ones did not hide their curiosity when I lacked sufficient explaining as to why I was crying and being vague. 

     It cut a little close to the bone as my friend shot video of my mother's hair sprinkled with ashes making her journey from land to high tide, so I cracked a joke about the videographer'' journalist aspirations. My intention was to be funny, but it was obvious some of my stoic behavior had rubbed off on her. Our friendship deepened over lunches at the Mendocino Hotel and cliffs without guard rails. I invested time in gathering abalone shells, ocean rounded glass from Glass Beach and abandoned hermit crab homes for the rest of our time together. 

     When I was ready to venture out on my own, the family took a nap to let me have some more of my spiritual time. I walked for about ninety minutes along Main Street, past an organic coffee place, authentic Asian restaurants and an outdoor clothing store. I was in for one of the most jaw dropping sights I've ever witnessed. I moseyed to the Fort Bragg Guest House Museum, which was closed due to MLK Day and visited a surprising highlight. I wished my friend and progency had been there to see it.

     Adjusting my eyes against the shadow of sliced wood, I marveled at what a logging company had cut through many years before I was even born. Standing on end a bolted to cement slabs stood a huge remnant of redwood that started growing during the time of the Roman Empire. The width must have been the size of a modern day studio. I was most impressive and made me feel not only small as a human but young in terms of my soul's true lifetime journey. It was no joke. I wanted to stay and just stare at it until the sun set, but didn't want to risk looking like a transient scoping out a place to sleep for the night. When I strolled back towards the Travelodge, watching the ocean spray misting off boulders in the sea, I was able to sneak in a call to a friend who used to live there in Fort Bragg; because I found the parallel in her living now in Nevada and my being there.

     The last great thing on my visit to the coast didn't happen outside or even in the car. After I'd fallen asleep on the night of the first full moon of the year, bright caress and ocean air lulled me awake from a quite comfy bed and fluffed pillows. My bed sat directly under the window and at three a.m the Super Blood Wolf Moon washed my barely awake form in the most beautiful moonlight I have ever known. I settled down in perfect bliss, content with this being where the Universe wanted me to be.

     We took the Hwy 1 to Hwy 5 on our way back home to Reno.
     Now I prepare for my next adventure.

Trusting the Subconscious

     Notice I didn't  say your subconscious. That's because I have no idea what you've got in there. Hell, I barely have a clue what's in my own. Why is it when doing research on the subconscious all that comes up is how to become more financially secure? Also, how come you can't spell the word Beauty without the words buy and eat in it?

     "The seat of genius," I've heard it lamented. In any case, the subconscious is there in all of us. It's a place where our long term memories will eventually bleed into our future lives. A place where we can be who we should've been instead of who we are or have become. All of our emotions trample marks into the subconscious. The habits we've formed were deeply manifested there. It's a holy place where some things don't exist yet, but where spirit connections can also develop. 

     If intuition had a sense of humor, then irony could possibly be it. I should've known, (deep inside I must have and did) that my last blog post about the Ego would be a Segway for this next topic - the subconscious. That stubborn ego is the middle man between our conscious and subconscious. Again with the hilarious irony, because the subconscious could care less about protecting the Ego. As in my last post, that's all the Ego does is protect our conscious - the identity of ourselves.

     What does the subconscious even look like? What creatures stalk those puzzling landscapes?

     "Who knows; they're your symbols," yourself says to you.

     What about when someone is "in the zone"? When somebody can write and write in a single cohesive block without stopping during one of those times writing prompt challenges, is that considered the subconscious coming to the forefront? There are longitudes and latitudes within our souls, and the subconscious knows each and every fault line of them. There's a reason why people say, "trust your gut," "go with your first instinct," "woman's intuition." 

     The developed ego still gets in the way of our inner core, second guessing the one source that we ought to trust the most - our own damn selves. There may be moments of sweat and panic as we seek a level balance. We may notice unrelated elements in ourselves. Does it end with a bang, a whimper or a thwack? Just because something's out of place doesn't mean that the subconscious wasn't exploring something significant. 

     It's about outlasting the doubt and cold constraints of logic our ego uses as a shield against the scary truths of that vast subconscious outback. If this vast unknown shapes our reality, it's very tempting to simplify such untamed wilderness. It's important to trust the subconscious. Much like putting faith into the protagonist of a story, we inherently want to trust that the hero will come up with the right answers and solutions. The subconscious is our all wise, all knowing. We respect, awe and mystify the spiritual hero in fiction. If anything, the ideas our subconscious truthfully suggest are what we do dearly want to see truly manifest.

     Letting go of control is challenging, painful and limiting in some imaginations. This isn't news. But, if we look to the great wise ones, the ones whom we look up to, they flow, they have no shields and seem to just always know. As long as we keep questioning what our connections to the symbols our minds provide, we'll be rewarded with insight. Choose curiosity. Shedding light on these oddities will make them familiar, acceptable and the trip easier to navigate through in that once inky unknown. This trust is a very personal and singular undertaking.

     Never discredit yourself until you explore why these symbols and connections might belong in your conscious reality. Hesitation is the enemy, not our well-to-do protective Ego. We should always trust the wisest part of ourselves. Again still with the humorous irony that our wisest part has been programmed by everything outside of us. 

     The subconscious mind doesn't know the difference between imagination and reality. It forces us to be patient. So, why should we trust it? Because what is felt and experienced is what we trust. 

     "I'll believe it when I see it."

     Every once in awhile something happens to us that completely punctures through our ego into the realm of the subconscious mind, causing us to re-evaluate our ways of thinking. Perhaps these moments determine the next steps along our own karmic ladders? Trust that your best self, the best and wisest part of you, knows you'll endure. Yes, trust the subconscious to keep you breathing as you sleep. Promising you'll listen to its suggestions is where the real journey begins. This part of the mind is the master organiser, it won't fail you. 

*Feel free to follow me on Twitter @AmberleeCoyote*

My posts will return to a weekly consistency this month, thanks for reading!