Being Human ~ Life & Perceptions

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Hello!!!  My story started about fifty some years ago with my French Canadian mother (from Montreal) who fell in love with an Intelligence Officer from the Pentagon in DC.

How they met I do not know, but this affair lasted over several years. Go figure an affair that starts in DC at the Pentagon in the 1950’s!!

Then, his wife became impregnated, (what a guy) when I was (about) one year of age or so; that is when I became the *Inconvenience*, who needed to be *Eliminated*. Now compromised at birth I am *The Arrangement* between two Pentagon Intelligent Officers (that means I had two fathers). Off to a Great Beginning, provocative to say the least! Thus the story begins, with some riveting intrigue to state the obvious. Politics, affairs, all from the Pentagon in D.C.?

At the age of eighteen months, my adoptive father napping bengal(Eloquent and Poised, akin to my Arabian horses). Intelligence Officer from Washington D.C., (Fighter pilot flying over Burma in WWII freeing the POW’s, later MAG in Europe – Wing Commander @ Langley, finally Republican elected representative in AZ) heard about the circumstantial predicament; a little Golden Haired Toddler girl, (little did he know of the napping stealth Bengal Tiger brewing within).

My second father whisked me away from Miami (where I was hatched on the beach). The adoption was legalized some four years later, after we lived and left Venezuela (and I have not started school yet). The story becomes more intriguing as I was educated on three continents.

Born a (de facto) Republican, I learned to question all authority and bucked the establishment when observing questionable behavior; seeing life through a paradoxical lens, thinking – “we humans are the enigma in this universe!” Too young to utter such words, this lent to many adventures alone, starting (possibly) before the age of three. Precocious, headstrong with a love for horses and dogs, all animals and nature.

twitter-logo-smallLife is daunting and an intriguing place to gather “knowledge. Make a differences, be part of a global wisdom .” ME

flute the cat

 “Take all you have seen, heard and learned, put it to good use. Find the opportunity in the worst and best, hone it to a skill and spread the wisdom. ME

We have lost our tolerance  and empathy for each other; a precious part of our humanist. It is time to regain our benevolence, treating each other with kindness, with more conscious thought to our actions.

Resolve to Evolve.

Extending our Kindness to our fellow humans, nature and the planet we inhabit, we have the ability to change the cruelty, we have the ability to change our directions which is at a critical juncture. Our planet is made for all human life, animal and vegetation life, and beyond what we do not understand. No one person is better or more deserving, this is how we are Separate but Equal .”

Everyone deserves a home, food to eat, and a purpose in life. “Humanity means: It is our mission, to offer kindness in the seconds we see an opportunity, to all living creatures.

twitter-logo-smallAttempt the impossible in order to improve your work. Bette Davis

eye-of-an-arabian

It is our responsibility to make life easier without the guilt or shaming tactics!! Allowing each person a moment of ease. This is what “Putting the Human back in Humanity“entails.

twitter-logo-smallWe must Re-Institute Our Basic Instincts, to Come to Our Senses.

My have started second book “I Learned Things I Never Want to Know.”  It is a true story about, winning beyond all odds, working through 11 Traumatic Brain Injuries primarily on my own (being my own lab rat of discovery), and healing from multiple painful surgeries, I recovered my true self!

twitter-logo-smallWorking to help people globally, Understand Solutions For Being Human.

Thank you for sharing with me, the adventures, our stories and comments with your friends and family and strangers. I wish everyone a great adventure in life!

The Arab touchMicheleElys is a Neuro-Behaviorist: working to help people globally, understand Solutions and Recovery

TBI – Trauma Recovery & Solutions Author – Keynote Speaker

Equine Devotee – Reluctant French Chef

Projects: Weekly Articles on TBI  & Human Behavior Solutions. Two Books in the works.

Social media contact: Twitter https://twitter.com/MicheleElys Google+ http://plus.google.com/u/0/+MicheleElysMer LinkedIn www.linkedin.com/in/MicheleElys

© MicheleElys: All Rights Reserved Sade eye

 

 

twitter-logo-small In Honor of my long time Service Dog, Sädé

No duplication, copying, rephrased in or out of context comments are allowed without express permission of Author MicheleElys. © MicheleElys: All Rights Reserved 

Death Never Takes A Holiday!

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MicheleElys (!!!), as I answered my cell on Tuesday afternoon. Recognizing the heavy German accent, “MicheleElys, one of your horses is down! A neighbor has called me at work and said one of your horses is down!”

My mood stood at a frantic anxious attention. “What do you mean? Is he sleeping, rolling, what? Which Arabian is down? What do you mean down, are they both sunning?”

Again my friend replied in pandemonium; “I don’t know, I have called the vet, she will meet me there, I am leaving work now. When can you come?”

This is terrifying news for a horse owner.

As I anxiously awaited for my guest to arrive at my home, the next 15 minutes seemed endless.

My cell rang, my stomach tighten with terror. Death Never Takes a Holiday!

” MicheleElys the vet is here, your horse is dead!” “Which horse, Which Horse is Dead, Which Horse Is Dead?” I pleaded.

My heart wrenched as I listen to the following words. “SriZhada is dead, he did not suffer. It was either an aneurysm or heart failure. He went very quickly.”

Death came swiftly to my family and claimed SriZhada.

The Vet began to explain the differences in appearance when a horse dies from varying problems. It was too much for me to bear, knowing horses as long as I have, I stated, “You do not need explain, I have a medical background and understand the differences.”

At this very moment my guest arrived. Telling him earlier when giving additional directions to my home, I mentioned to him one of my Arabians was Down. As he drove up he immediately handed me a bouquet of Red Carnations with deep sympathies.

“I must get you settled, then leave, I do not know when I will be returning from the stables this evening. My other Arabian will most likely be in deep grief.

KlassicAmir and SriZhada have been together for 16 years. They romped in the sunshine over green pastures, jumped over felled trees, bucked and reared in playful delight, basked in the sun, pranced over high drifts of snow after a blizzard with their horse blankets keeping them warm, hid in their stall together when the thunderstorms came. Never apart except when I rode. They traveled together side by side from state to state when I was injured and required surgeries.

Streams of memories flooded my mind as I drove the long 50 minutes to the stable.

SriZhada was a playful, happy-joyous little Arabian who was delightfully easy to train. An unusual Arabian for he reveled in jumping, clearing 5 feet with 6 inches to spare. Even after his devastating injury, a torn stifle, SriZhada would jump over 4 foot fencing or logs with great enthusiasm, then pranced around, tossing his neck and head in exuberance.

As I drove to the stables, an odd thought flooded my mind: “I am so happy we returned to Colorado for SriZhada to die here on green pastures. I am so happy he died here in Colorado, our home.”

Odd what thoughts fill our minds when Death comes swiftly.

Both Arabians would run across pastures to greet me. I could hear their thundering hooves bounding over the tree edge, coming to an immediate halt three feet in front of me. Muscular chests filled with air, instantly turning around flagging their tails high in the air and letting out a loud snort and nicker.

 

 

Proud Elegant Arabians.

 

 

 

 

On Monday I spent hours grooming the winter fur from both of their bodies. Conditioning SriZhada and KlassicAmir’s mane and tail. Mucking the pastures and stalls – their poo looked normal and healthy. I left with the knowledge I would see them again on Wednesday.

Shattered!

When approaching the stables Tuesday late afternoon, KlassicAmir bellowed until I was beside him. Immediately I went into his stall leaving the door open, hugging his heated neck, feeling deep sadness. His deep guttural shrieks streamed agony through my body. Stroking his neck, reassuring him, “I am here now, I am here, I love you and am so sorry I was not here earlier today.”

My friend joined me, asking her to stay with KlassicAmir whilst I examine SriZhada.

It was obvious from the rigamortis and stomach blot he had died earlier that afternoon, suddenly. As I brushed him for the last time, grooming his chestnut body, cleansing the dust and dirt from his eyes; SriZhada was at peace.

KlassicAmir bellowed again, he was in pain! Walking up the incline to comfort his grief, I noticed his right pastern was slightly swollen. In his dismay, being alone KlassicAmir must had run around the pasture injuring himself. Horses bond deeply, in death, grief at times overcome them, often the remaining horse may die within days.

Grabbing the arnica oil out of my tact bag, I could see the relief when applying the oil. Next, feeding him apples and grain KlassicAmir began to settle.

Shredding some hay in his bucket, pulling up my stepping stool, Sade at my side we sat quietly. A dark solemnness usher in the night. Occasionally KlassicAmir would walk to the stall doorway and glance down at SriZhada’s lifeless body, whinnying loudly. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Family members came from their house to comfort us.

KlassicAmir ate quietly, alone for the first time in sixteen years. The night was still as a cool breeze filled the barn.

Wednesday came early, it was time to call the horse recovery service.

We both walked out to SriZhada’s lifeless body, telling KlassicAmir it is time to say goodbye. He bowed his head, sniffed then with a rise, sounded a loud whinny splitting the quiet sunshine. People drove by slowly, knowing a horse had died.

Purposely I removed KlassicAmir from his stall, allowing him the full walkway of the interior barn. I did not want him to see SriZhada’s body being removed. He ran from one end of the indoor stable to the other, shrieking. When seeing his life long buddy in the truck, he lowered his head calmly as I held him. For three days I stayed with KlassicAmir, only leaving in the dark of night.

Back to the Earth SriZhada returns, no chemical, no boxes, simply his beautiful Arabian body and what the Earth will use as nourishment.

 

Dust to Dust

In Memory of SriZhada

June 1997 to April 18th 2017