Dear subscribers for Hope Has a Cold Nose,

Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. – Brené Brown. 

On May 20^th I had the privilege of taking part in a parade.   It was not your traditional parade.  Or perhaps, given current affairs, it is now considered the new normal.   Approximately twelve or fifteen of us begun lining up for the procession – twelve or fifteen vehicles that is.   Some vehicles had one individual, or one individual and a dog like me.   Other vehicles varied from two individuals to four.  I especially liked the vehicles filled with people, for it was these same vehicles in which tiny hands held balloons, and though I couldn’t fully see the faces, I could feel the mounting excitement for when these same tiny hands could hold the balloons out the windows in celebration.

Yes, in celebration, for I was in a procession to drive past my niece on her 8^th birthday.  Our dog Kutana, also nearing her “eight” – eight months old that is – filled our vehicle with curiosity while I filled our vehicle with joy.    This parade was a request from my niece in how she wanted to celebrate her special day.      Only her mom, dad, or brother know if there were tears of sadness leading up to her birthday that she couldn’t be with her friends at a park or at a home preparing for a near all night giggling slumber party.   For those of us in the procession, we would soon have the delight of seeing her dressed in her beautiful fairy princess dress, dancing on the hill with whole-hearted glee, certain she was the luckiest girl in the entire world.  A parade just for her!

We were asked to meet at the fire hall, a central location a few blocks from where my niece would be.  Or at least that is what I initially thought.   And then I saw one of the fire trucks pull out of the garage, followed by a second one.   Both headed to the front of the pack of our procession.  In that moment I felt the truth of one thing a virus cannot stop love. 

Not only love of aunts and uncles and classmates whose parents were gladly driving their children past a friend.  This was love of a community.  And this was love of individuals who have vowed to serve and protect as first responders.   On this day they were serving a little girl who I anticipate will remember this birthday as one of the most special birthdays of her life.  A moment forever stamped in her heart and in the shaping of her life yet to be.

Through the years as she grows, so to will her wisdom and her grace about this simple moment in her life that was extraordinary and significant.   At a distant point in her future many years from now, after she has immersed herself in young innocence, and then the hustle and bustle of self-absorbed youth, and then the invincibility of her early twenties.  After a time in her life in which she will remember when school was not in person, but online and she has heard countless stories from her elders about how “it used to be” before a pandemic in a world for her that she will see as normal and part of her natural every day way of living.  After a time in which perhaps she, too, is a mom, with a daughter of her own, she will be able to look back and see the truth of yet another thing: even when, or in despite of, painful or fearful times, life always finds a way.   

Very recently I had the sacred honor of writing another veteran life story for Hope Has a Cold Nose.   Among all the extraordinary sentences this veteran communicated of his story, a very powerful one stood out to me.  PTSD excludes you from a world where everyone sees butterflies and rainbows.  I see thunderstorms.   This veteran also shared what others in Hope Has a Cold Nose feel.  It is hard to be vulnerable to a world that holds negative stereotypes about PTSD.  It is hard to be vulnerable when judgment joins the interactions with others.

Just as my heart yearns for the suicide rate to decrease, my heart yearns for fear in society to decrease, too.  For I believe it is fear that ushers in judgment as a self-protection against uncertainty or uncomfortableness with the thunderstorms that are as equally a part of life as rainbows.   When we can befriend the claps of thunder and the lightening strikes and listen to them not in fear but in respect and awe for the extraordinary elements of nature that they are, I believe we will come to know a third truth.     The rainbows happen because the thunderstorms do, too.   And a fourth:   We can find peace with thunderstorms by listening to those who know the thunderstorms well.   

I won’t let my pain turn my heart into something ugly.  I will show you that surviving can be beautiful.   – Christy Ann Martine  {https://christyannmartine.indiemade.com/product/mental-health-quotes-survivor-quote-printable}

Sincerely,

-Christine

As communicated last month, the manuscript for Hope Has a Cold Nose is complete and steps have been initiated for publication.   In early June, I will be finalizing the editing path, with anticipation for the editing to happen July – August.   Once the editing is complete, the design phase will begin (formatting for the book size, book jacket cover, etc.)     I am setting an intention for the book to be available in hardcover, paperback, and electronically late Fall.   Specific timing will become clearer as the book progresses to publication.

I can be reached by visiting https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com/, https://christinehassing.com/ or you can email me at ckhred30@gmail.com

Dear Hope Has a Cold Nose subscribers,

First and foremost, may each of you and those you hold dear continue to be wrapped in health and well-being during our current time.

There are only two ways to live your life. One as though nothing is a miracle.   The other as though everything is a miracle. – Albert Einstein

When I wrote last month’s update with the opening statement before a multitude of countries began temporarily closing, I didn’t anticipate that a month later the stay-at-home orders would remain in effect and the world as we have all known it now finds itself in a collectively large arm-wrestling match between uncertainty and hope.

Last month I shared my perspective that in this significant time of uncertainty for so many, I feel peace – and hope – in a certainty that we are healing as Earth and as humanity.   I feel that now more than ever, it is time for the co-authors of this book to share their stories, for they will not only fulfill a mission of helping their Brothers and Sisters who may be struggling. Their stories of hope and resilience will inspire the world as the world begins the collective journey of healing its pain.

Over this past month, this feeling only deepened that the storytellers in Hope Has a Cold Nose will inspire the world as the world transforms through the isolation it is now experiencing. As I heard the pain of isolation these veterans have known, I could not help thinking that compassion for and understanding of invisible wounds will grow; these veterans can – and will – be a testament in how to overcome.

I am an alumni of Gonzaga University, and over this past month they have been facilitating exceptional webinars to foster connection and community, to inspire faith and hope, and to rally change agents to help create new beginnings for the greater good of humanity. One webinar was by the Dean of Education, Dr. Yolanda Gallardo.   She shared much wisdom in her words about community centered hope, or said another way, the focus is we’ve got this, not just I’ve got this.

Dr. Gallardo spoke words as if she could read my heart. What gives us hope is a sense of purpose.   Our stories are connected in this moment. Our stories have always been connected. Actions are important but sometimes just listening to someone else is a huge gift. As Dr. Gallardo shared a very personal journey that she is on with her family, and more specifically her father, she spoke of the gifts we receive in the hardest of times. A deeply sorrowful and deeply beautiful time.  This time we are in brings the level of hope to an entirely different place.

There have been enduring practices of hope for years. Dr. Gallardo used examples of hospice care, health care workers, teachers, and paramedics. There have been enduring practices of hope for years, but we don’t talk about that a lot. How can we…keep the conversations going with those who have engaged in enduing practices of hope?

I would add, how can we keep the conversations going with those who have engaged in enduring years of service for us? How can we as a collective community engage in conversations of hope? As Dr. Gallardo so eloquently communicated at the end of her talk: we are living in a moment of unity. Let’s grab onto it and do something with it.

Recently I heard someone speak this: every experience I have had has prepared me for this moment.    No truer words for me as I write this month’s update. It is in deepest gratitude to twenty-two extraordinary storytellers bravely willing to share their trust, their hearts, and their biographies with me – and with you, the future readers – that I share the manuscript for Hope Has a Cold Nose is now complete. The manuscript has now begun the first formal step towards publication.   Yes, Hope Has a Cold Nose is on its way to being available as the book it has been meant to be!

Meant to be. I am someone who believes that every moment offers us a sign if we are open to receiving it.   Elizabeth Gilbert writes in her book Eat, Pray, Love: But I was always coming here. I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand, exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen.   I was given a sign to create Hope Has a Cold Nose, and through many steps along the journey in the past two years, the signs have continued to communicate “keep going”.

I will close with this sign that affirms for me that the world needs these twenty-two extraordinary stories you will find in Hope Has a Cold Nose.

One day a few weeks before we learned my soulmate in fur, Roo, had cancer, she and I went for a run. It was mid-morning, and we encountered an owl in a tree who spent a few minutes talking with us.   Whhhhooo Wwhhhoooo Wwhhooooo it communicated as I held sacred awe at the miracle of this encounter during the daylight. After a few minutes, this beautiful wise majestic soul outstretched its wings and flew over Roo and I so close, I could have reached up and touched its wings, or so it felt.

Fast forward to the week after Roo left Earth, and I found the courage in my pain and sorrow to go to this same spot on the trail, a trail that held abundant memories of my running partner, soulmate and teacher of my own personal hope and faith. Before I did, I had asked Roo to send me a sign affirming my belief that death is not an ending, nor goodbye.   I stood at this spot where Roo and I had integrated with this beautiful, wise, majestic soul, tears flowing down my cheeks, to then look up and witness the owl fly into the tree by where I stood.

Ever since these two significant moments, the owl has held a very special and deeply personal meaning for me and is a very powerful sign for me to affirm “keep going”.   I could share many significant moments in my life in which the owl has appeared since those two days. Let me share just two more.

Fast forward to the day I announced the publication of my first book and a run I decided to take in celebration of that significant achievement. It was mid-afternoon. I can now “hear” you exclaiming what you know you are about to read.   Yes, at the same spot on the trail, I paused at what had become a sacred spot for me. After a couple of minutes of stillness sending thanks into the Universe for the gift of Roo, and an owl flew through the trees towards me.   I knew Roo was happy that I had given purpose to her cancer and to her and my collective story.

Fast forward to yesterday, April 24, at 3:30 p.m., just prior to hitting “send” for the manuscript to begin its journey to a published state. I stepped outside with our puppy and then I heard a voice. A beautiful, wise, majestic soul whispering “yes!” in its Whhhhooo Wwhhhoooo Wwhhooooo.

Hope Has a Cold Nose is a book meant to be.

Truly it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us. – Meister Eckhart

Sincerely,

-Christine

I can be reached by visiting https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com/, https://christinehassing.com/ or you can email me at ckhred30@gmail.com

Dear subscribers to Hope Has a Cold Nose,

May this message find that health and overall well-being is wrapping you and yours tightly.

 And just when the caterpillar though the world was over, it became a butterfly – Author Unknown

Before a multitude of countries began temporarily closing their doorways, and restaurants adjusted their primary purpose from dine in to take out.   Before Italy set a precedent of lockdowns and education rapidly became on-line and home-schooled.   Before history began stamping every mind with the new words “social distancing” and people started to find that the gift of information at our fingertips was becoming information overload that requires considerable discernment, and often at times disengagement.   I read these words 1 person in the U.S. dies from Corona Virus complications. 22 Veterans die each day from suicide. Can we throw 2.5 Billion at that too?

These words resonated, deeply. Now I was the one dancing between emotions. On one hand I wanted to scream these very words from a deep sense of loyalty to the men and women co-authors of Hope Has a Cold Nose who are sharing their stories for twenty-two a day who die. On the other hand, I held a compassion for those whose immune systems may be too fragile to combat a new virus rapidly spreading faster than fires that have threatened the livelihood of places such as California and Australia.

Most of all, the lens I was choosing to see through was one of frustration and a sense of helplessness at being able to stop the magnet of fear. As one who is guided by the belief that what we focus on acts as a magnet to attract things to us, in a world already struggling to feel hopeful, I didn’t want to see the magnet of hopelessness grow stronger. My frustration only more intense as I perceived that people were taking action from a place of fear for their own well-being and I couldn’t step past the feeling of wanting to shout why aren’t we as humanity stopping the world for those struggling with pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair before they reach a point that life is no longer worth living?   If your passion isn’t reducing suicide like it is for me, perhaps your heart desires to end such things as domestic violence, addiction, Alzheimer’s/Dementia, homelessness, or animal cruelty. For those who are, or become marginalized, why have we not stopped the world before?

And then I let go of the oars. Figurately. I set down the oars, stopped trying to row the canoe, and decided to let the current of the river do what it does best. Flow things downstream through a natural course around fallen logs, over rocks and boulders, and around a bend.   No matter what is put on a river’s path, it always flows. There may be intermittent droughts or spots that freeze in the thick of Winter, yet, in due time, the river continues its flow.

As I set the oars across my lap, I reminded myself what I also deeply believe. There is purpose in every moment, and though we can’t always influence what those moments are, we can always choose our response to them. As I looked up to notice the scenery around me, I started to see people making choices we haven’t made as a collective society in quite some time.   To be kind, to be compassionate, to being fully present with one another listening and sharing in dialogue, stepping off the treadmills of a fast-paced schedule to immerse into the stillness of Nature and with each other. To embrace a creativity that includes helping to make others laugh and to serve others in need on small and large scales, and a positivity that is banding people together. Where the collective whole has been missing connection, multitudes are beginning to find re-connection.

There are always gifts that come out of struggle, and people have started making choices to open those gifts. Social media has started to contain messages of “we can do this” and less of “you versus me”.   The ripples of goodness have been increasing in the sharing across social media where what had been predominately shared fostered separation and division as people scrambled to be heard individually, to know they were not invisible and that they mattered amid a sea of “like”, “love”, and “share” buttons.   The gift of critical times in its power to bring people together.

In a time of uncertainty, I feel peace in a certainty that we are healing as Earth and as humanity.   No longer is pain or trauma “over there”. Now each person is experiencing their own personal transformation through the journey of pain, as what has been continues to fall away.   I have had the honor of listening to veteran stories from Israel, a country in which, as it has been wisely shared with me, is a country in which everyone knows PTSD, given their continual state of war. A lockdown is not new to them. Sure, that a stay-at-home order is driven by a virus is new; yet, thankful are many it is not for missiles flying overhead that require shelter be sought.   Israel is also a country with a very low, or next to zero suicide rate. It’s a country that despite its pain, never loses hope.

Perhaps, now that we as a world are all in this together, we will, in fact, be stopping the world so that we can create a world in which people don’t want to leave life.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K_YQZheKr4

Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness yet become something beautiful – Author Unknown

Sincerely,

-Christine

With deep gratitude, and joy, I am pleased to share with you that twenty-two stories are either complete or in process for the manuscript of Hope Has a Cold Nose. Once the remaining stories are written, I will be pursing the next steps to bring Hope Has a Cold Nose into publication. There was already an urgency for these extraordinary stories to be shared.   Now, more than ever, it is time for the co-authors of this book to share their stories, for they will not only fulfill a mission of helping their brothers and sisters of service. Their stories of hope and resilience will inspire the world as it begins the collective journey of healing its pain.

I can be reached by visiting https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com/, https://christinehassing.com/ or you can email me at ckhred30@gmail.com

Dear Hope Has a Cold Nose subscribers.

Hello to each of you.

“The law of attraction states that whatever you focus on, think about, read about, and talk about intensely, you’re going to attract more of into your life.” Jack Canfield

 I don’t know his name, though we have talked several times. I know that his wife is earning her degree as a musical therapist and that he is working two jobs. I know that each time we exchange in dialogue, he asks about the progress of Hope Has a Cold Nose.   He shares how he looks forward to reading the stories.   Most recently when he asked about the progress, I shared that I had eighteen stories. I have a goal of twenty to twenty-two, as that is symbolic given the statistic, I further said. The look on his face communicated that in each of the times we had talked, the significance of twenty to twenty-two had not been part of our conversation. My face flashed that I was surprised it was a statistic he didn’t know. When he asked, and I answered, once again his face communicated an effort in trying to absorb that twenty-two individuals reach a point daily in which choosing to live feels much harder than choosing physical death.

As I reflected more on how this gentleman was not aware of the suicidal rate for veterans, I began thinking about three personal guiding principles. One is in respect to how I believe our thoughts act as a magnet to draw in more of what we focus on. A second one is in respect to nothing is coincidence and there is purpose in everything that takes place, including pain, trauma, and tragedy.   And the third is that we learn best through opposites.   I anticipate in previous messages I’ve talked about how we cannot fully know such things as joy, or hope, if we don’t also have intimate experience with sorrow, and the weight of feeling there is no hope.

Very recently someone dear in my life passed on information to me about a non-profit who provides financial assistance to families whose pet faces a cancer diagnosis. This organization assists with such things as paying bills for biopsies, amputations, medications, growth removals, and they will pay 100% of medical costs for dogs in shelters.   Without the sacred privilege of knowing the full details of what founded this organization, their words we assemble “Roo Cancer Care Packages” which contain items Roo loved during his diagnosis speak volumes about giving purpose to what I can only imagine was one of the greatest losses.   Their purpose speaks of hope, and it speaks not of an ability to eliminate cancer, though this would be a wish we could all hope for.   Their purpose speaks of meeting life in how it brings that which we cannot always influence or control, looking pain and grief in the eye, and compassionately being there not necessarily with a capability to fix, but with a lifeline that says you do not walk through this pain and fear alone.    This organization: https://livelikeroo.org/ cares dearly about every dog and their humans on their journeys to fight against canine cancer. Their focus is not on how much cancer exists in canines, but on what small part they can play in assisting in the fight.

There is a balance between waging a fight against the “enemy” that has caused the pain and looking for purpose and possibilities that communicate the tragedy did not happen in vain.   In the wise words of a sage who crossed my path many years ago when I could not shake the tragedy of a news story I had heard.   Chris, everything that happens – good, as well as tragic – is planned. If you make a positive change in your life because of this accident – perhaps you drive slower when the roads are icy or you express love more frequently – you will give purpose to why this accident happened. You will make it matter that it did.

If you visit my web page https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com, you read the words: my perception is the world needs hope.  Each time I hear or read about another life synonymous with suicide, my heart searches for what else can be done to help those who are reaching a point in which the pain to live is too great.   And then I think about the eighteen co-authors thus far of Hope Has a Cold Nose, whose personal testimonies of pain, trauma, sorrow, despair and…hope are the “Roo Cancer Care Packages” for others.   Each co-author has found that their best friend in fur has not eliminated the pain, grief, or fear; each co-author has found an unconditionally loving and non-judgmental support system to look their pain and grief in the eye and whisper you do not walk through this pain and fear alone.  

I can’t help wondering, if we were to focus our energies on what small part we can positively play in assisting those on their “fight” against pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair, and we started to highlight more how many individuals find hope and something to live for, would we begin to draw in more hope and reasons to live?    I have shared this perspective with people before that if we wake up believing it will be a great day, we have set the intention to look for everything great about the day, even if it rains.   Our eyes, ears, and mind are focused on finding all that is good in the day. Exactly the opposite that if we wake up certain it will be a bad day; we look for every reason to affirm that it is.   If we look for more stories of hope, will we find more people who are hopeful? If we utilize the stories of suicide to fuel what we could do in opposition to the enemies of hopelessness, what might we create that ensures these losses were not in vain, and ultimately reduces twenty-two to zero?

“The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new. Socrates

 Sincerely,

-Christine

Eighteen stories are complete and or in process for the manuscript of Hope Has a Cold Nose. The goal is to have twenty-two stories. Feel free to share this email and encourage others to subscribe to updates regarding the progress of Hope Has a Cold Nose to its published state by visiting either link below.   If you know of someone that would like to share their story for Hope Has a Cold Nose, please have them contact me at ckhred30@gmail.com.

In addition, with deep gratitude and awe, I am pleased to share that I have a formal agreement with the Wing of Rehabilitation, a branch of the Israeli government, in which they are supporting the writings of twenty Israeli veteran stories of hope that they can share with veterans they service in Israel.   My intent is that on this journey, I can further learn from Israeli veterans their experiences and words of wisdom I can share with veterans in the United States, for the current suicide rate in Israel is next to zero. The search for, and the discovery of, hope does not have boundaries; it is Universal. It is an essence of humanity’s ability to flourish.   Or not.

What small part can I play in assisting in the fight against pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair?   Hope Has a Cold Nose and perhaps Hope Has a Cold Nose volumes I, II, and III will guide the way.

https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com/

https://christinehassing.com/

Dear Hope Has a Cold Nose subscribers.

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has. – Margaret Mead

 A few evenings ago, I had the privilege of speaking at a library in partnership with a special friend. Our message was on the healing power of therapy and service dogs. I should rephrase to say that it was in tri-partnership, for my friend also brought the star of our center stage, Sunny, her four-year old therapy dog. As Sunny worked, visiting those in attendance, my friend shared the multitude of ways Sunny has helped those who journey with trauma. I shared a story from Hope Has a Cold Nose, highlighting how one particular service dog has provided healing, dignity, and hope to a veteran on his journey with PTSD.

I had not been to this library before, my interactions limited to an initial conversation on the phone when an invitation was extended to come and speak. Immediately upon entering the doors, I was struck by one key word that best described what I was walking into. Community. This library is not only a holder of books; it is facilitated by a heart of passion for learning, encouragement and celebration for local artists and creative souls, and a haven of safe space for people to enter with their stories of their lives that can be kept quiet between the person and the pages of another story of fiction, history, or autobiography.   Into the doors one walks and immediately finds belonging.

During the speaking engagement, I facilitated an interactive exercise in which I asked one person in the audience to share a personal story, while I asked the others to listen. Once the story was shared, I asked for volunteers to share what they heard.  Of course, true to our human nature in how we listen, those that shared each had a different perspective. One person shared the details, including a piece of information not communicated to all of us. The power of community, shared history, and belonging. Pieces of this story not shared were still known by those who had walked beside this individual supporting her through her grief, and her healing.

Recently I had the sacred honor of listening to veteran’s story in which she shared how two dear friends noticed when she did not show up for classes a couple of days in a row, and immediately came to this veteran’s home to check on her. These two friends found her in the clutches of depression gripping her will to get out of bed. Though only a small group of two, they quickly assembled more to be a “community” of support for this veteran.   They stayed by her side literally, and figuratively. And they have not let go.   For this veteran, two individuals changed her world.

When my special friend and I co-deliver our message of the power of therapy and service dogs as healers, we highlight the unconditional listening of a dog, and how a dog can hear exactly what someone is feeling without words spoken. In that way that we become student when we also teach, I am reminded of an image of a man and his dog I saw recently on the lawn at the driveway entrance and exit of a large multi-purpose store.   My heart whispered words I didn’t need to hear to know there is a story and it is one of pain. My heart felt gratitude this dear individual had hope by his side in the form of fur and a cold nose. And my heart was saddened for that this dear individual was not being seen, nor his voice being heard when I was certain his story was extraordinary.

I was reminded of another dear individual and his dog I met on the streets of New York City several years ago. I had set the intention I would find this dear individual and his dog, or at least a team similar, for a couple years prior to this encounter, I had been one in the “community” of those passing by who did not pause. I was reminded of these words I had written in sharing the story with someone: Instead, I acted as those were next to me, the same as those to the left and right of these two souls passing by without second glances to these two souls staring wishfully back at people passing by. They were listening for respect and empathy; we were listening to the warmth, safety, and abundance of our lives. My intention was next time I would notice, and I would stop.

Fast forward to now. How many dear individuals wish to belong to a community of compassion, respect, dignity, and unconditional listening? Maybe those beside us aren’t homeless, but how many beside us where we walk, or drive, feel they aren’t being heard? Or seen? I can’t help feeling part of that answer is being communicated to us through the statistic of twenty-two per day.

The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members.

 Sincerely,

-Christine

Eighteen stories are complete and or in process for the manuscript of Hope Has a Cold Nose. The goal is to have twenty-two stories. Feel free to share this email and encourage others to subscribe to updates regarding the progress of Hope Has a Cold Nose to its published state by visiting either link below.   If you know of someone that would like to share their story for Hope Has a Cold Nose, please have them contact me at ckhred30@gmail.com.

https://www.hopehasacoldnose.com/

https://christinehassing.com/