Walking by the Rio Grande under the canopy of cottonwoods shifting to yellow golds and fluttering in the breeze, I find myself falling into an autumnal reflection.  The smell of green chilies roasting permeates the cold mornings and the sound of discarded leaves underfoot is all part of the season.  As the sun overhead seems to relax I find myself engaged in my favorite pastime: walking with friends, both two-legged and four-legged and in the ambling making new discoveries.
I am grateful to engage in walking with so many amazing two-legged and four-legged friends.  Animals, my pets and other people’s pets, continue to be some of my most potent teachers.  One such friend is a dog named Leo, a friend’s dog, who stayed at my house a few times over the summer.  He is a lovely mellow retriever-lab mix who has kind eyes and smiles during walks.  Even though he is a loyal, gentle companion, he is only a little more than a year so play and puppiness he deeply embodies.
On one of my walks I had Leo, who is used to being off leash with his owners, and since I wanted him to sleep that night I found a safe area to let him off leash.  At first he started to roam ahead thirty to forty feet and I found myself feeling anxious, uncertain if I could keep him close enough for my comfort, so I would call him back.  As we continued to walk I noticed I was following him rather then him following me.  I know enough in animal training that it is important to lead or as I was soon to discover be the anchor.  So the next time he got too far ahead, I turned around and walked in the opposite direction.  I didn’t call him and all the while looking over my shoulder to make sure he was okay and when he might notice that I was not heading the same direction as him.  It took him about a minute (although it seemed like ten) to notice I was gone.  But when he figured out I wasn’t following him, he came galloping full blast back to me.  He was panting and my heart was beating fast.
After a few more times of me heading in the opposite direction whenever he got too far ahead, the dynamic shifted.  Leo stayed closer and I noticed instead of his eyes looking ahead he would ever so slightly turn his head to the side to check in on where I was.  And when I did turn the other way, it was merely seconds before he was coming to find me.  This was a terrific reminder for me to be the anchor.  I am not advocating this sort of training for dogs, I was just responding intuitively to what felt like the right training for Leo and I in that moment.  It also reminded me to be the anchor in relationship to pets as well as personal pursuits.
I began to ask wonder how could this apply to other areas of life?  For instance one might want to activate more health in their lives.  So one way would be to work on diet, sign up for exercise classes, find the right practitioners and other resources.  All of these are terrific action steps.  But I wonder how can one anchor into natural health and wellness?  Is it by pursuing it or following a model?  Or is it by centering inward and creating health from the inside, anchoring yourself in wellness?  And allowing the wellness to come to you rather than chasing it?
Another great teaching that came up in playing with Leo accessing what I call my courageous heart.  The concept of turning away from him and moving the other way was intuitive but not comfortable.  It felt terrifying and anxiety producing.  And even though I did it very intentionally, the location, the risks, the time of day and had the safest environment for the experiment, ultimately, I had to let go of control.  I had to let go of control to gain it.
Being courageous doesn’t always reside in feeling confident.  Sometimes it could mean moving into a new creative project that you feel called to do but appears impossible.  Or deciding to travel somewhere on your own against advice of others.  Having a courageous heart means pushing into the areas that might be a little uncomfortable and uneasy.  So as we open into shifting seasons, how do you anchor in your courageous heart?