Tareena grounding me and helping me to unblock and find release. Thank you wonderful mare! You came out of nowhere sensing my need and helped me let go of the unwanted baggage I carried. This is why I totally believe in equine therapy.
…
When your photographs turn out like this you have to make up a story…
I’m sure I heard something. It sounds big…
Where can it be? I’m sure it was on the opposite side but now it’s on the other. Oh no!
I’m stuck inside this tree! There’s no where to go. This is the end but where is it?
See that big fluff of white! That’s the loud yeti I hear. Lol!
All of this is made up of course from these bloopers. What was I thinking during my poses? Who knows but it made for some fun. B…b…bye now!
Sweet Summer decided he should be in on the photoshoot and wow he looked good!
We didn’t get the best shot of our ‘Sum Sum’ above. So let’s try again.
Of course he didn’t just want to be in the photos, he wanted to be in the tree with me!
He did leave to let me have another try for a good photo.
The next blooper is about being in the woods. Read on…
We all want to look like models, carefree and perfect in every shot. Unfortunately, I have to admit that our dog Summer is more photogenic than I am.
But, I am not averse to posting the bad as well as the good and having some fun whilst doing it. So here are the bloopers…
Honestly I wasn’t going for the Norma Desmond look!
The similarity is creepy. Lol!
My next lot of bloopers will be of our lovely dog Summer!
Yesterday I took part in a photoshoot. I haven’t had photos taken in 11 years so it was definitely time.
I’d already picked my location.
The setting I chose for the photoshoot has a lot of meaning to me.
I found this tree 26 years ago. She’s a huge Maple tree that has obviously gone through a lot. I don’t know her full history, I can tell you that she had burn marks in the area of her trunk that is missing.
In my free time I would go to her. Her strong arms wrapping around me as I sat on the ground in the hollow of her centre. Taking off my shoes and socks I’d grasp the ground with my toes feeling the soft tickle of the vegetation on my feet.
Trees offer a tranquil energy of solidity. There stance is firm, they cannot be moved, only cut by man or uprooted by mother nature.
She has remained strong through some of the worst storms we’ve ever had. Despite part of her being missing she has shown me a resilience that is on going. If she can withstand parts of her being taken away I feel that I can too.
We all suffer many storms in life. We pull through believing that being no longer whole we are much weaker. Yes, we’ve lost part of ourselves forever but determination makes us grow our roots deeper. We search for the nutrients we need and when found we strive on more knowledgeable and wiser.
She’s held me a lot over the years. Blocking the pain that finds me by what’s left of her substantial trunk.
I’m thankful that she reminds me to be grateful of wonderful memories and that I have time for more of them. She tethers me to this earth in a way that only nature can and to her, I tribute these photographs, some fun, some silly, some reflective. She brought all of these feelings forward and I thank her.
I wrote this for a friend who was losing a beloved person.
The wounds of loss are great. Sitting beside a person in pain hurts. There are so many things to think about when you’re in this state. You want them to stay with you but you want the pain they feel to go away.
When it isn’t possible to do anything physically we can go to our intuition. We can feel what is surrounding them and ourselves whilst reflecting in those quiet moments.
My friend feels at a higher lever, her senses are tuned to the universal energy. She knew who was there, she felt them.
She enlightened me to write a poem from her experiences and from my own knowledge that we are watched upon. That when we believe our past family members, friends, are there for us to help, they help.
I’m posting this for those that struggle to ask for strength from their past beloved ones. They are waiting, wanting to raise your energy to keep going despite the pain. They are there as a balm and always will be.
Yesterday I had an amazing day of an Equine Herd Experience.
After some rough patches the last few months, I went to The Mane Intent and had a fabulous session there.
I can’t wait for my next one!
I fell in love with all of the horses but my special ❤️ horse was definitely a very large Belgian mare called Sally. Sally and I were drawn to one another. Honestly, if she fit in my car I would have taken her home.
This big adorable mare who has to be 2,000lbs and as gentle as a lamb made my day. It has been a long time since I have glowed. This mare made me feel so much younger and so very happy.
If you don’t know about Epona and Linda Kohanov look her up. Her discoveries through horses are marvellous. She has helped so many people feel great throughout the world. Linda started the Equine Herd Experience and many of us benefit today from her discoveries. There are many Epona trained facilitators out there so take advantage of them. You won’t regret the experience.
I wrote this yesterday for a science-fiction competition. The deadline was that day but I had second thoughts about going ahead. I feel I’ve had to rush it so instead here it is for you to enjoy. It’s inspired by what is going on in the world. It nowhere near hits upon the devestation that is happening.
We’re all routing for you as small as you are. May the “bear” move on.
Copyrights February 28, 2022 Krystyna Faroe, Harmony publishing.
First Chapter – 2025 – Country or Man
At the onset of everyones retreat, I can’t help but watch. As if I am a reporter on what is happening to the city and collecting images. My mind is in disarray, confused, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s surreal. My tears drop onto my jacket dark stains against bright purple. I’m wearing purple to keep my courage. I’m not leaving.
I can hear in the distance the rumble of tanks as they head towards us. The threat has been there for a long time but the hope it would never happen was strong because of the world support. Now where was that world support?
As a young woman I’d been out dancing many nights ago with my friends, they are long gone, driving out as soon as they heard. Here I am stubborn, determined to learn ways to fight back and I am terrified. I am not alone I have help to set things in motion.
What has this world taught us? That no matter how much we try to be peaceful there will always be someone who will not. A stronger power who has to be the bulldozer over another country. Flexing their military strength to show the world and creating a damning vision of oncoming death. Wearing their fake camouflage blending into nothing but the tanks that follow. Mechanically operated monsters, worse than dragons breath. It’s hard to dodge the scree of buildings falling. There I go again, day dreaming about fantasy. I wish this was me reading fantasy about dragons.
I know in my heart what I will become. A wrong is being done and although I don’t want to I will do a wrong to make others see right. A tricky situation but we have it all planned with different scenarios.
Stepping off the platform I climb down the many steps. The height allows me to see lines of vehicles. Their stop, go, lights flashing like well synched party lines of luminance as they slowly depart from their home.
As I near the ground I can see Rocker waiting for me. The nick name was a tease about his 50’s collection. They’d been for his future. Instead he’s sold them for the ammo and other weapons we have stored away. Now I call him Rock, he stays with me and helps plan.
“What’s happening?”
“The same. People leaving slowly and a distant sound of the tanks.”
Rock nods his head aggressively. He is walking back and forth as he continues. “How long do you think we have Karma?” Another nickname for me. We aren’t the people we used to be and I plan on giving karma back to those who seek to destroy.
“They’ll be here by tomorrow.”
He stops and turns. “Let’s get started.”
His troubled blue eyes make him look older than 26. So they should, we’ve both aged. Realizing you will never have children or family again is exhausting. Knowing you’ll probably die within the next few days is overwhelming.
I wipe my tears away with my purple arm and put my brave face on as I follow him away.
We’re underground, in a place we hope they won’t find us. We’ve stocked food, water, all our needs to keep us going for a while. I’ve even tried to make it cozy by setting comfortable chairs upon the carpet. The carpet covers the concrete. I have stacks of carpet everywhere so we feel warmer. I even nailed them to the wall like unexciting tapestries. Rock hopes they’ll also act as an insulator for sound. We don’t want to be found before we get started.
Rock is lining up our tools. So many of them for hopefully many days. He marks them as day 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. He stops there and looks thoughtful. Involuntarily he turns to me, I can see by his face what he’s thinking. He doubts we’ll get further than that.
I turn away, not wanting to show the fear I carry. I know I have to control it but it doesn’t stop the tears. I wish I was back at the nightclub with the girls not knowing what is about to happen.
It’s shocking how quickly we were able to get everything together. How we stumbled upon our hidden new home. Only dogs would be able to find us. Please don’t let them have dogs. I’d thought about a dog as a warning system but Rock was right, a dog makes too much noise. Dogs at least we’ll hear. Our outdoor sound and movement sensors will pick them up before they are in sight.
A dog would have been comforting though. I could have hugged and cried with a dog. I can’t with Rock, he won’t let me be weak. Instead I grab a chenille blanket and push my face into it. The softness soothes my aching flesh, I feel the length of the bristles against my cheek and pretend it is a fluffy animal. I’ve been crying so much my cheeks bones hurt from sobbing. My skin is raw from pushing my fists into my eyes so many times. I know it’s nothing compared to what is to come.
I awake with my blanket stuffed into my mouth. I must have been wailing again and tried to hide it. I sit up to see Rock’s sad eyes on me and try to give him a smile and a nod. I think it comes out crooked and wobbly because he turns away rather than respond.
“Here eat something.” He walks over and pushes a plate into my hands. I feel sick.
He gives me the look, “placate me”. I pick up a piece of bread and take a small bite. It’s tasteless, I know it isn’t, it’s just my senses wanting to shut down.
He’s outside so I grab an apple from the plate as I get up and set it down. The small table acts as our cooking area. It carries a camping stove and a couple of pots stacked upon two pans. It’s all we need. I drink the glass of water he’s left there and grab my back pack, with heavy legs I walk out.
Day one is reconnaissance only so we’re armed only with a gun, binoculars and our ear pieces. Rock’s concern is them hearing our channel so we’ve developed codes of varying grunts. It was comical when we first began. I couldn’t stop laughing and Rock even joined in with my giggling through his own chortles at how we sounded.
We aren’t laughing now as we part. He has his area to go to, I have mine. I wanted us to stay together but that wasn’t what this was about. We need information from as many places as possible. I hadve my instructions they are crumbled in my fist. I hope the sweat from my palm hasn’t blurred them.
I can still hear rumbling, the city itself is quiet. So many prickles on my skin, so much anguish in my heart. In the moment. I have to be in the moment or I will be at risk.
I stay away from streets taking dark back alleys and walking through buildings. I’m in black to hide in the shadows. It seems appropriate for the dead city I now belong to.
When I enter the high rise building, I shudder at the sound of my footsteps so I walk as much on my toes as I can. Boots are great for getting through rough ground but on solid floors a pair pumps would be better.
Looking around the open space, I notice things people have dropped in their hurry to leave. I take a quick look to see if there is anything worth taking. What luck! I find a stuffed toy. I know it sounds silly and probably is but having that little fluffy toy cat is a relief. I hug it to my chest as if I were 8 again. Stuffing it in my bag I look at the elevators.
I can’t use them, all the electricity is off. All sources of power have been switched off. Why give, them, comfort. Every bit of food has been taken as well. These aren’t visitors to cater for.
The creak of the door to the stairs makes me swivel around to see if anyone is around to hear. Of course not, everyone has left. I am running up the stairs. Not a good move but I am frantic to reach the top as fast as I can. I don’t, I lose breath and walk the rest, panting and sweating. Luckily our under clothes whisk away sweat or I’d be shivering by now.
The door takes quite a push to get open. At first I think it is locked. Then I realize is is just me lacking energy. I tumble through from the impact I put upon it and stumble a few steps into the open. I drop as quickly as I can in case there are any air patrols around. There aren’t so I leap to my feet and run to an observation spot that has cover. From there I take a seat for my vigilant spying.
There isn’t anything to see other than emptiness, it sticks a hole in my heart. Darn heart, I have to stop listening to it and just let it do it’s job of thrumming.
After a while of nothing I walk around the rooftop, taking care to keep in the shadows or cover. Finding another spot with a better view I settle in. Taking out my cookies and chewing them slowly I take the odd gulp of water. Now I am hungry, but we packed light and there isn’t much that can boost me other than a protein bar. I remember we have jerky and decide I’ll have that with me tomorrow.
All is quiet from Rock. No grunts in my ear. I stifle a laugh. It is so silly but it makes me smile and whilst I smile I feel stronger. The day is leaving and I am tired of changing positions to relieve my pins and needles. I hear a sound muffled at first just like the rumbles. It isn’t until the scream of something rushing through the air catches my attention and makes me look. The sound of a blast rocks within me. Rubble falls and dust flies upwards as if to meet the toppling roof that is coming down. My ears are holding a percussion concert as I shove my hands over them.
Another sound enters the fray. It blends like a new instrument has been added. It takes a while for me to realize it is Rock grunting. I grunt my reply of danger and I hear no more.
They’re making their presence known in the dusk, letting the burning building light up the night in place of the electricity. I can see them in the distance. The shot was too close to my building. I have to get off it. We’d been right in thinking they’d use the main road to enter with tanks. That meant those on foot are roaming the streets. Zipping my back pack I sling it over my shoulders and run for the exit door.
Pulling again and again I can’t open it. Panic is rising. What if they blast the building I’m on? I’d be finished before we even start. That could happen. With both hands I haul again and again. I wiggle the handle more and more. Is it locked? My mind screams “no!” Is there another way? I know there isn’t. My pounding heart is now telling me I am done, no escape. I will be either fired upon by a tank or found by footmen.
Dropping to the floor on my hands and knees I wonder if I should give Rock the “help” grunt. I can’t even laugh at that, even though the grunt is more of a high pitched squeal. It had originally sent me rolling on my cot in hysterical laughter when we first practiced. Now I am just feeling hysterical. There has to be a way.
Why didn’t I think of a fire escape? I can only assume because I am in primitive brain which says “flight…run”. I stop my racing breath within my chest and take deeper ones to get blood to my brain again. Looking around I see a spot where there is a metal mezzanine, it has to be there.
I am almost tripping myself up as I run, my legs are wobbly. My synoptic nerves aren’t connecting to them. They’re moving despite me trying to keep balance, causing me to fall forward and graze my saving hands upon the gravelled roof.
I lay crying, pulling grit out of my skin and wiping my eyes with bloody palms. I must look like a warrior woman now. Why do I go to such inane things when I’m next to breakdown? The little things help us I guess.
Running down the fire escape I cringe at every step, wasting more of my energy. I certainly am not energy efficient like my stove at home. It is pouring out of me like a gushing water pipe. Breath and relax. My one hand is a fist and the other is grasping the railing. I can’t even feel how cold it is, my hands are sliding on it from sweat. The railing is my saviour for balance as I slide around corners and aim for the next one.
I am slipping loudly, I know it, my boots are sticking on the grills and grinding out the words “I’m here” into my ears. I may as well be a screaming banshee. I can’t look to see if anyone is nearby. I have to get to the ground as quickly as possible.
My machine gun feet keep going. Everyone must know I’m here but what more can I do. I could try a door to the inside but why waste the time, they are probably locked too. Only opening from the inside. If the percussion in my head hasn’t been enough, this is even worse from my feet. My brain is banging against one side to the other, it has lost it’s tether and so has my analytics.
Jumping off the bottom step I stop and look around me. I can’t see anyone but my stomach is reeling. They’ll be coming along the back alleys, in the darkness. Their night goggles will see me and I’ll be shot as soon as they lay eyes upon me. Away, away, I have to get away now but which route?
I hear the grunt in my ear, it is soft. Rock, he is here somewhere. The dark is overwhelming and my breathing is louder than the snoring old man who lived in the apartment next door. There aren’t even enough walls around me to muffle it. Home, our underground home. I have to get there. I give the grunt for “home” to Rock. His return is quick…danger. I drop to the ground just as we’ve trained and crawl along until I have a point for visual direction.
The main street is noisy from the tanks moving further into the city. Other than that there is no noise from anywhere. They are here, somewhere. I crawl backwards under an overhang. It isn’t going to help from vision goggles but it offers me relief within myself.
The smell of dust wafts in the air from the collapsed building. It feels choking but I can’t make anymore sound. I grab my nose in hope I won’t cough.
Why blow up a building when they need the road for access? It doesn’t make sense. I can’t hear anything. The tanks have stopped. What building have they destroyed? It hits me just like they did the pile of stone that has tumbled down. It is the old artillery building. Another slap in the face and step on toes to destroy our historical past. We are nothing but a bump to them that has to be flattened.
Think, I have to think. What would Rock do? He’ll get behind something metal for a start so his heat signature can’t be found. My gaze is everywhere until I spot the large metal bins. Running at my best sprint, as sprinting for your life I find will make you faster. I pull up the lid and fall in. My landing is soft on all the garbage as the lid shuts loudly behind me. I’m left in total darkness. Did they hear that? I wasn’t subtle about anything. I’m the worst warrior woman.
I hear a soft grunt in my ear. It means stay. So I do, in amongst the revolting smells, something clammy that is sticking to my throbbing hand and pieces of I don’t know what in my hair. Tears are falling again, my heart has taken over.
I’m quiet with my sobs, although my fear is stuttering them out. I feel around to see what I’m sat in. I feel cloth and pull it around me to help quell my shivering. I’m starting to warm up a little even though my hands are clammy, when I hear movement. Many steps coming toward me. I stuff the cloth in my mouth despite what may be upon it. I chomp down with my teeth and hold my breath. Footfalls are getting louder, reverberating through the large metal box I’m sitting in as if they’re in here with me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I wish I could squeeze my ears shut too. The clicks of guns being cocked makes my body shake even more. I try to wet my lips but I have no saliva. They’re pressing together so much if I had a cigarette it would be crushed. Now I want a cigarette.
The steps resume. They’re coming toward the bins. I hear one bin lid being lifted and want to scream. I hear it slam shut. More footsteps, the next lid is lifted, silence, then it too is dropped shut. I’m in the last one, only one more before they find me. Should I take out my gun? Die in a shootout. What good would that do? Kill someone manipulated by a person in power to give up their life for them. Their ideals, their hunger for more. I’d likely only get one person before they riddled me with bullets. Did I want to be a colander? Leaking blood out everywhere until I expired.
The alternative was to perhaps be shot on sight with no fight from me at all. Or to become a prisoner? I could see only bad things happening there. Taking off my back pack I search for my gun. Quietly I cock it and wait.
Then I have an idea. I put the safety on and I hide the gun beneath me in the garbage. I take off my back pack and pull out what I’m looking for. I hide my ear piece in the front of my bra, the tiny flower covers it. I fluff my hair with all of it’s entanglements, not shifting any. My back pack is close to my spine. As I wonder if I have the guts to do this. I have to. I hear the last lid drop and I wait.
The lid opens and I’m blinded by the shining light upon my face. I close my eyes and cry. I let every bit of grief out of me, sobbing as if I want to drown myself in tears. I take a glimpse through half shut eyes and see a young man. His gun is pointed at me as if to shoot but his face is frowning.
Can he shoot what he sees?
I curl myself up so he can only see my face and hands clutching a fluffy toy cat. He sees the bits of food in my hair, blood on my face and I see his face soften. I’m only 18 but in this stance I probably look younger. I hope they decide not to shoot me anyway. Behind him is a gruff voice. The young man’s eyes harden and I wail even more
Thanks for reading!
Krystyna
A Few Words from Krystyna Faroe
Elanclose began with no rhyme or reason it just happened. Pulled from the darkness of depression Elanclose came into being.
Fiction, rising from the oppression of a dystopian society Elanclose grew out of the ashes of The Devastation. A world starting again with the blankness of youth, its occupants creating their own form of utopia. Free to live the way they wanted, to develop and grow through their own experiences and only count on the past for knowledge. Forming clans they live in harmony until, as in real life, those seeking more power and control, change it.
Written as science fiction/fantasy, young adult, new adult series of novels these stories became my saviour from the pain I was in. Unable to go about my normal day I sat for weeks spending hours pouring words from my mind onto the screen before me. I didn’t see darkness descend, I didn’t see the light disappear. As I wrote I only saw the bright screen before me and the characters I made become as real to me as friends, pulling me from the shadows into the lightness of the electronic device I sat before.
Elanclose is my first novel, I went on to write the sequel as Aqueous Passage and the third as Travertine. I do not have the education that a writer perhaps should have but I have a vivid imagination. From it came my world of Elanclose. It took me from self-pity and loathing to a place of creativity, building, expansion of thoughts and love of the characters that came into being. Characters that showed bravery, resourcefulness, guidance, kindness and love. But also faults because none of us are without faults and we should be loved for them as well as our better selves.
It didn’t cut it with the agents I queried, it didn’t fit into any of their genres, perhaps true or just a kind way to reject me. One who’d been rejected so many times during my life and continually struggled to find self-worth and value. My heart told me it should be read, that the story was worth while, not perfect but a good read. I had no money to pay for professional editing, so with its flaws I self-published Elanclose hoping that those who read it would enjoy it as much as I did writing it and forgive my mistakes.
I grew up struggling. Life wasn’t easy. There were so many tragedies that took place through my brief period of childhood to adulthood but I survived. Maybe that is why I admire the characters of Elanclose, they are survivors too.
Perhaps starting on a precipice is why I fall so often. We have to fight though right? We have to climb back up and teeter once more until we find a way to make the crag safe. Perhaps we build a fence but that also traps us. I’d like to think that like at the Grand Canyon we can build a skywalk where we can safely move outward, looking down at all that lies below us. above us and all around us. Then for once in our lives we can look in any direction and see all without being afraid.
Riding a horse is exhilarating but even more fun is building a relationship with them. Playing games and laughing isn’t just great for you it is healthy for you and the horse too!
Be a part of a growing new experience with horses. Find out why we should respect them as much as they respect us and learn how to get a horse to want to do what you ask.
You will be amazed at what you will be able to achieve. If you were awed by the horsemen and women of Cavalia, be awed at yourself achieving more than you thought you could with a horse partner. Learn how to have a horse freely follow you and do obstacles and lateral movement from your directions on the ground. I believe you can do it and you will too.
Equine Assisted Learning use a Building Block (TM) Program created By Tamara MacKinnon and Cartier. These are fun challenges that you and your equine partner take part in. You will laugh, you will become frustrated but your equine teacher will help you get through them all. Be a success in the programs and transfer the skills to improve your life, career and self-esteem. Your horse partner will teach you how to be a leader.
The lovely Harmonious Horses do not judge, they don’t care who you are, what you do or how you look. They see you, the real you, the truth about yourself is recognized and they will love you for it. There is no faking here. You will be authentic and vulnerable but as Brene Brown says below, it is worth it.
The truth is like a lion; you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose; it will defend itself.
~St. Augustine
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Elanclose Rambles 