a return

 It’s only mid October and I feel like the amount of stuff that’s happened this year is catching up with me. The mountains have a powdered sugar dusting on the top and the trees are halfway full of warm, brightly-colored leaves. I’m craving fresh pressed apple juice everyday and gathering soft lighting for the months spent mostly indoors.

I rolled into the start of this year sicker than I’ve ever been- trapped on the couch in a fever dream for a whole week. I had a growth on my head that was so painful it hurt to rest my head. I totally missed the holidays. I tried to forge through my one week of work vacation with a trip to the mountains, but was miserable the whole time. The trip was made totally awful when Jeff received an email from his dad saying that his swollen and painful shoulder from the past several months was diagnosed as a cancerous tumor caused by Hodgkins Lymphoma. I think we will never forget finding out the news on a packed and festively-lit street in Leavenworth, WA where we mourned the life of Jeff’s dad knowing the best case scenario was still horrible and where I projected my dinner over the side of the street, still unable to keep any food down.

Getting back to work in the new year with my only week of rest spent on the couch and also grieving already the potential loss of my partner’s father was perhaps an omen of the way the year would shake out.

January came and went. I encouraged Jeff to go to see his dad ASAP, knowing the stories of my friends and family whose frail bodies couldn’t handle cancer treatment. I felt like we spent that month grieving Dave’s life even though he hadn’t lost it. We cried a lot. Our trip scheduled for late February ended up being too late.

The grief for the following months is hard to describe. His death was unexpected despite us knowing he was sick. Our lives shifted in an extraordinary way. A tectonic movement that triggered a tsunami throughout our lives.

I was simultaneously heartbroken for Jeff and also grieving a man I had spent little time with, but had planned on spending my life getting to know. I was figuring out how to support Jeff. I was grieving my future father-in-law, but silently, because my relationship with him was so miniscule compared to so many others. I spent much of that next month home alone with the dogs.

We got engaged in March - a part of this year I keep forgetting. I’m not a person who dreamed of a wedding, and I can’t help but keep putting that thing at the bottom of my priorities list. Jeff and I have become a solid team this year and marriage will solidify that even further. I am trying to take time to celebrate our love in ways that matter to me - a bottle of champagne, a nice dinner out, and eventually a wedding of some kind.

By May Jeff had quit his job and by June I had quit mine. Our values were reorganized. We became suddenly less willing to suffer awful bosses and being undervalued at our jobs. When I thought about living the rest of my life on Whidbey Island, where I had been for 12 years, I felt so saddened by the smallness of what my life would be.

We spent the months of August enjoying the lovely state of Washington and the people there that we love. We spent hours trying to catch salmon, we saw the people who mattered to us, we went to the places we hold dear, and we mourned what we were leaving behind, but felt confident that we need to leave it in the past.

So here we are finding our way in Montana, which is not easy. We are excited to start our own farm business, but struggling to find the hope and positivity that what we are doing is going to be successful. We are spending money in a way that terrifies us and not making any income yet. The wages here are less than half of what we made before.

But we have slowed down time. Which was the point of it all. The last five years went by in such a flash and less happened in that time than any other point of our lives. I’m so proud of how I grew at my job - I became a capable and kind leader, I prioritized my own learning and education, and feel like I outgrew the owners of the business I managed.

I feel like I am returning to who I am, which is surprisingly difficult and heavy work. I am believing in myself and in Jeff and what we are capable of. I’m imagining the life I want to live and trying to make sure time doesn’t fly by without me noticing.

Momentum

It's the end of the year: the time when the days are painfully short but are beginning to get a little bit longer each day. And I am feeling the most lost and unsure that I've yet felt in my 25 years and 5 months. I've spent the past six months (at least) asking everyone what they think I should do next, what they would do if they were me, and thinking of every possible future I want. And yet, I feel so far from knowing what to do. It sounds cheesy, but it's like I haven't been able to or have just chosen not to listen to my heart.

In this next year, I want adventure, new places, different views, wonder. I want to notice the little things, take the long way, savor a perfect peach, find moments of sheer confidence, discover unexpected joy, enjoy the journey more than I have. I want to make a promise to myself to live an honest life, like the trappers in Werner Herzog's movie about the Taiga. And also a promise to choose my life, and to not let it merely happen to me.

When I think back on this year, I think of a day working hard at the farm and then leaving at the end of the day, driving up the island to Mount Erie, hiking a ways, climbing until sunset, hiking back to the car, finding a place to eat dinner, coming home late, and then waking up the next day to another day of working on the farm or another day with my friends. I feel like I found friends with whom I felt like a little kid again, where we could spend countless hours, even days, together and not tire of each other. And now it feels pretty weird to be going our separate ways.

I feel confident and unsure. I'm excited yet there's a pit in my stomach. I feel committed yet adaptable. I feel freedom but attached at the same time.

So, I'm just going to keep moving, take it as it comes, breathe, and hopefully I'll learn to listen to the whisper of my heart at some point.

If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning

adrienne rich

I want to grow up. I want to be honest with myself, mostly, but I also want to be able to tell the people I love that I love them and the people that hurt me how they hurt me. I don't want to be afraid of what happens when you are honest.

I want the animal inside of me to burn as bright and as hot as this intense summer sun that roasts the black soil that burns my feet. I want there to be no question of who I am, what I am like, what I stand for. I want everyone to know the same Whitney that everyone else knows and who I know. I don't want to be and feel like a smattering of a million different things.  I want to be solid. I want laughter that doesn't come and go. I want reality to be the most real it can be, to not fool myself into false understandings of the people and events around me so that my memories can be true and reliable.

I want to see the sunflowers in the field, and not think jumbled thoughts, but enjoy their mid summer presence.  I want to know exactly what I want to do on July 4th and not care about missing out on anything ever. I want to fully appreciate the relationships I have, but never fully rely on them for a sense of self.

I've never been a place I havent felt like leaving and I havent met too many people who still care about me when I'm gone, but I want to be in a place like that and I want to be with the people who care about me even when I'm gone. I want to find something I love to do deep in my bones, that makes me feel like some prehistoric, ancestoral part of me has ached and ached for this thing. For now, though, I'll just be in my twenties, feeling somehow entirely incompetent at knowing how to make my way through life.

Here's To Now

The days are getting longer and sunnier once again. It really feels like this time doesn't exist during the gloomier months; it's really only a dream that sunshine and energy and baseball are real things. Each of these Spring days feel precious, like we made it past the dark days of winter and are holding on to our sense of self and peace before the summer craze comes along and claims our down time and quiet inner lives.

I'm really relishing my life these days, amazed and grateful to find myself so happy and contented by my home life, my job, relationships, and my inner life. Gratitude should be pouring out of me every moment for all the grace and love and good vibes that have landed me here. I can't hand all the credit to fate though, I feel like I learn a bit more every season about what makes me happy and the choices that lead me to be content.

The things that bring me joy lately is the noise of the birds through my cracked window in the morning, the softness of the sheepskin on my own, the gentle greetings of others first thing in the morning-an unknowing each day, without assuming you know anything of the person you knew yesterday.  The feeling of laughter deep in my belly and my skin stretched across my face, my lips stretched completely.

Ahhh, and the beauty in farming vegetables, such physically rewarding, challenging, and stimulating work and the forever battle of fecundity and fertility constantly urging what we do. We have to ultimately and necessarily live in and deal with only the present. Dreams and hopes can merely be offered to the future.

But, alas, here's to Spring! To soaking in the present-the wind on your face, and your freshly washed hair tickling your back and neck. To this precious time of lilacs and lush green, the mingling of our past winter selves with out future summer selves. Here's to now, eh?

Que Sera Sera

Phew. I'm seated, in my assigned seat...15 minutes after getting to the airport. at 5:00 pm, I was told that my 7:30 flight was cancelled and instead I was put on a flight leaving at 5:55. If I didn't make that flight, I would be stuck in LA and my friends would have to wait for me in San Jose, Costa Rica. What a start to a 5 week trip!

After we all gathered at the San Jose airport (which is actually in Alajuela) in the following 36 hours after I left Seattle, we were on a bus and headed to our first holiday destination, Quepos. Here, we had plans to stay with one of my traveling companions' uncle, an expat willing to host 4 ladies for a week and half at his Costa Rican mansion, accessible to few through a series of gates. He welcomed us with Imperial (one of two Costa Rican beers), pizza, and his two dogs as we watched the sun set over the Pacific ocean from rocking chairs on his upstairs balcony. Finally...together and not moving and drinking a beer with a view. Quepos--land of pirate taxis, prostitutes, beautiful and tourist-filled beaches, 2 for 1 happy hour--turned out to be a perfect place for us to relax, play cards, make a plan, cook together, ride horses to a waterfall, ride someone else's motorcycle, go to the doctor, get acquainted with being in a foreign country, catch some big-ass fish, and get A LOT of free drinks. We were amazed by the teenagers who could move their hips to Salsa music, the monkeys, the sloths, the price of the national park entrance, how nothing dries if it gets wet, the 2 for 1, 2 at once happy hour, and the fear of over-drafting every time we took out 150,000 colones from an ATM.

After 10 days of general relaxation and vacation, we decided to make our way toward Drake Bay, where we had a free place to stay with the parents of a friend of a friend/future boss/complete stranger (to some of us). On the way, we stopped at a surfer town full of too many cool vibes, where the surf is good and people go to sleep at 8, so they can get up to shred on the first waves. It was here, I think, that we began being led by many a good-natured Costa Rican man, all too willing to help four young, white ladies on to each new destination. The expat in Quepos constantly hooked us up with deals. Here, in Dominical, we met Andre who taught us the ways of Costa Rican pop music, Costa Rican pizza, and the general surfer vibe. We left the next morning before the sun rose, and the Tico men ushered us to where we were supposed to go. On the way to Drake Bay, we waited for several hours in Sierpe for a water Taxi that would take us through the mangroves and onto our destination. It was here where we lost our minds waiting in the hot sun for hours, and where I nearly died when a branch about me broke off the tree and would have landed on my head were it not for my killer instincts. With a new appreciation for my life, we arrived in the magical, special place, met by our new host on the beach.

Drake is a small, rural town, where 5 year old boys ride a horse to the mini super market and tie it up outside, where there is one pick-up truck that takes the one road. Here we were shown to our guest house with beds, sheets, warm (or cold) showers, a kitchen, a washing machine, and all thanks be to the arid god, a dryer. In Drake, we walked on beaches, jumped off of rope bridges into crocodile-filled rivers that change with the tides, found a magical ping-pong table, celebrated American Thanksgiving with bacon and an eight dollar bag of Cheetos, kayaked in the wide open ocean, drank boozy smoothies, caught a cold, played hilarious drinking games, and meet a new spirit guide. Carlos became our main man, and we became his 4 ladies whom he showed around, healed, guided, and made phone calls for. He took us for a night swim, when the moon was low and the waves came alive with bio-luminescence, tiny plankton glowing with every movement we made. He taught us to make fresh lemongrass, ginger tea to heal our colds, and took us for a hike/waterfall-jumping/ wear-your-lifejacket-like-a-diaper floating tour down a river into the ocean. We ate cacao fruit off of trees and no-named citrus fruits from everywhere. I discovered a true passion of mine is finding coconuts on the beach and using my pocket knife to open it and drink the juice and eat the meat and share it with local, hungry dogs and my friends.

At this point in our trip, with every swim in the ocean, walk on the beach or in the woods, or nap in a hammock, I could feel the stress and disappointment of the year dripping away. It felt like happiness was slowly returning and a version of myself that I like much more than the self I have been for a while. Thanks to the ocean--the point at which time and eternity intersect--a force to be reckoned with.

Next stop, Mount Chirripo! I had spent quite a bit of time getting paperwork and money in the right place in order to go on a hike, the tallest peak in Costa Rica, nonetheless. We were ushered to San Isidro de General/ Perez Zeledon(thanks to our spirit-guide, Carlos), and eventually made our way to one of two San Gerardos in this 17,000 square mile country. We were dropped off from the school bus full of women and teenage lovebirds at the last stop up, next to the soccer field where the bus would park until it left the next morning. We were greeted by an unpleasant couple from Quebec telling us "There's no room in the inn." Luckily, we ignored them and made the 2 kilometer trek up to Casa Mariposa (butterfly house), a beautiful hostel where we would spend the next 5 days (minus the 2 where we were hiking). Although we came here for the mountain, we quickly fell in love with this mountain town. We walked in the crisp air to a chilly swimming hole, to a "secret garden," a trout farm, a chocolatier, a cheese maker, waterfalls, and lovely everything. The hostel was cozy, gave us 2 fleece blankets for the chilly nights, clean, coffee at 5 am everyday,and full of interesting outdoorsy travelers. The hike up the mountain went smoothly. I was anxious to get up high, and it was totally worth it. We left the hiker's lodge at 3 am, donned all of our clothes, watched a beautiful alpine lightning storm from afar, and made it up to the summit in time to witness the daily ceremony of the sun slowly making its way up from the east. When we had all our photos taken, the surprise cake eaten, and our fingers were thoroughly numb, we hiked down in the magic light of dawn, stopping at the lodge for a warming cup of coffee before we took our time going back down through the cloud forest where oak trees and bamboo grow side by side. We rested and enjoyed Casa Mariposa for another day before heading to our next destination, Monteverde.

We had heard about Monteverde from a friend and from everyone we had met. We arrive during the Festival de la Luz, welcomed by parades and college-like foreigners partying. Our spirits got a little low here, as we all were in need of time away from each other, and we were stuck inside of a cloud...literally. I wish I could say I liked being in the cloud forest, but honestly, it got pretty stuffy in there. The nature reserves were beautiful and fun to hike around. We went to the Quaker meeting, and I was reminded of some great parts of my religious upbringing. I felt totally peaceful and open to the musings of the universe after sitting in silence for an hour. On one of my traveling companion's birthday, we went out to breakfast, went on a zip line canopy tour (17 ziplines, one of them is 1 km long!), ate burritos, and watched the sun set with a bottle of champagne.

To leave Monteverde, we got on a bus, whose driver hated us from the start, and proceeded down the curvy dirt road. Just about the time I began to feel nauseous, the percentage of the dirt overcame the oxygen in the bus and the driver turned on Latin carnival music. Just barely keeping my breakfast down, we got on an hour and half long ferry across the open ocean. Our arrival in the beautiful beach town called Montezuma (Montefuma, to some) could not have been more welcomed. We had reached an oasis where we could and would spend the next 10 days.

In Montezuma, our biggest decision each day was to get up at 5 and walk down to the beach for sunrise or just to watch it from our beds, wake up slow, sipping coffee while watching the birds and howler monkeys nearby and the tide come in afar. In Montezuma, you go to yoga, eat well, sit on the beach, go to the waterfall, swim in salt water, swim in fresh water, sit outside at all hours of the day, and you feel better when you leave. We met travelers who glow, awash with joy and relaxation, basking in each moment, at the whims of the universe. When it was time to leave, I felt excited to test out my happiness in my day to day life, to see if it could hold up despite gray skies and cold weather. I had made a list of things I'd like to accomplish and be, feeling motivated by traveling and sunshine.

Anyway, I'm home now. And I'm still walking on beaches, just wearing boots, and a wool coat and hat when I do. I'm inspired by the life of a traveler, taking note of the beauty in each day, enjoying the moments.

Friendship

"What's friendship, when all's done, but the giving and taking of wounds?"

Frederick Buechner

For Aristotle, there are three kinds of friendship, the highest of which is friendship based on virtue. This means wishing the best for your friends regardless of the utility or pleasure derived from the friendship. The other two kinds of friendship are friendship based on utility and friendship based on pleasure. A useful friend is one you derive a benefit from, like a neighbor who is really good at fixing cars and you are friends because he fixes your car. In a friendship based on pleasure, you simply enjoy being with one another; you are friends because you are attracted to each other's wit, good looks, good conversation, hiking companion, or other desirable qualities. I find myself more and more drawn to this highest form of friendship, mutual feelings of good will between two people who value each other for their goodness and help each other strive for goodness.

In a world where individualism predominates, we each choose our own life path, goals, values, and friends are a comfort, but we cannot expect them to share our goals and values. In Aristotle's world, human life has a telos, an end goal where the pursuit of happiness is communal. 

I think I once thought there was no such thing as this true and virtuous form of friendship, but now I am realizing the differences in the friendships I have. I have high moral and ethical standards for people, especially my close friends. In my friendships motivated by utility and pleasure, I find myself frustrated, critical, and disappointed constantly. Aristotle thought that friendship would not last if one person is far more virtuous than the other. Maybe in our modern thought, where virtue is defined by the individual, we simply have different definitions of what is virtuous. It comes down to this: I want my friends to share my goals and values. I want to be motivated by them to be better to other people, to be kinder, to be admirable.

Just a sad and terrible post

Put your back into it, I keep telling myself.

Some people hurt us and know it will hurt
some people hurt us and have no idea of the pain they cause.
With the first, the sadness is dulled by the anger
with the second, the sadness is amplified by the unknowing.

Just put your back into it, hide the tears with sweat.

I work like a dog, but fail to rest like one.
I don't work out of love for the work anymore,
and I don't work out of duty to anyone but myself.
The disappointment, though, is heavy on my shoulders
and the load lessens the more I avoid it, for now.

Put your back into it?
I'm not sure how much it works anymore.

My mind says, flow with the seasons.
Hard times, unexpected events will pass.
They come and they go.
Carry grace for yourself and for others.
Be kind to yourself and love yourself.
Choose to see the beauty and adventure in life.

Put your back into it, don't let them know it hurts.

I'm cheery and friendly, or at least I try.
I say I'm good, like we all do.
They say no one wants to hear about your dreams,
they really want to hear nothing of your sadness.
Hell, I'm sick of hearing  my own bitter news.
Inside is all rage and hell-fire, though.

Put your back into, might as well at this point.

The will to live and to live happily
is all I've got left these days.
Friendship, thoughts of the future,
giving anything wears me down, threadbare.
My inner strength is shallow, uprooted.

Put your back into, it'll get easier after this.

Stay present. Hoe what's in front of you
and don't dare to look at the rest of the field.
Be grateful for seasons and for what you have.
Breathe in and out.
The old adages get us through.

My lack of writing has come from a general lack of inspiration and creativity. The routine and busyness of sheep camp has kind of smothered my creativity, as routine is known to do. And inspiration, as a dear friend of mine recently said, "Fuck inspiration. We can't wait for that finicky bitch to come. We have to try everyday amid the routine to uncover and make more of the beauty we see and feel around us." How to  uncover that beauty comes down to actually sitting down with a pen and paper, or a guitar, or whatever outlet I choose and physically getting it out of my head. I was told in school that you really know nothing until you can write it down, and that seems so true. How little of my thoughts are illuminated until I bring them into being.

I'm growing tough as I grow older, it seems like; I mimic the sycamore trees and the linden leaves. And I do what I can to not grow cold or bitter; to keep trusting and giving and loving despite how many times I've been disappointed and hurt. It's always all or nothing with me. My loyalty is really a pretty frustrating characteristic. That seems to be the key to living a full life though, you have to let yourself feel all of the things, there are no free good feelings, they are all accompanied by pain.

Mercury was in retrograde this month. As someone who has a hard time believing in anything other than my day to day life, I believe in astrology about as seriously as I believe in any religion or even science. Mercurian retrograde is an optical allusion where it appears as if mercury stops and moves backwards for about three weeks. In astrology, this is a time of chaos in our lives. In our relationships, sometimes we gloss over things that pushed our buttons at the time; we let it slide. During mercurian retrograde, what seemed not worth the trouble can reveal itself as a major issue in need of our attention. It's a time to reflect inward, slow down, and review once underlying patterns come to light. There's a good chance its all bullshit, but for the past two years, when Mercury is in retrograde it seems like a million things go wrong in my life, especially socially. I wish I had hid away all month and avoided any social interaction. Luckily, mercury is back to normal, and that is reason for celebration. Here's to a great rest of the summer, hell, to a great rest of the year. I'm stoked about the future right now, seriously looking forward to what's coming at me next in life.

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Springtime

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.

And when the time to leave was near:

'Ah!' the fox said. 'I shall weep.'

The Little Prince, Antoine de Sainte-Exupery

It's been the time of year where life is nuts on a sheep dairy, where we all are working 12 hour days and getting up in the middle of the night. It's a time when we feel like we will not make it through the week and we never fully tie up any loose ends. It's a mad scramble of new life and all the complications that come along with that. But, the end of this barely-keeping-the-farm-running time of year is in sight since all the lambs have been weaned from their mothers and will soon all be sent out to pasture!

The lambs cry and whine, constantly wanting to be cared for. When they are pleased, they run and jump with a crazy exuberance for the new life they now possess until they are so tired they can do nothing but lie in pile with all their brothers and sisters. Everything is a new experience, curiosity rules, and food is absolutely the best part of life.

The mothers, who surprisingly quickly recovered from the heartbreak of losing their children, are habituated to their twice daily udder cleaning and maintenance. Lining up when we are late to milk them, always expecting us when we've tamed them to expect us.They're also enjoying the glorious, but rare, sunny and warm days of lolling around in the new green growth in the pastures.

The cheese is being made from this twice daily surplus. It is made in beautiful, metallic machinery designed to do this specific job in the best and most efficient way possible. The curds are pressed, the whey is drained, the cheese is handled twice daily, as well, to ensure it ages perfectly and beautifully.

And the humans are tired, but also enjoy the rare, glowing days where we sip beer in the sunlight at the beach. We worship these days like the precious things that they are. We hear the frogs at night, the birds in the morning, and the lambs always. Spring is upon us. We see the daffodils in bloom and the tulips too, reminding us of days without anything to do but play on the beach. We appreciate, more than anything, the company of others who understand our immense tiredness but also refuse to fall asleep too early. That time where we aren't working and we are with others is cherished.

We work, not for the money, but for the meaning. We work hard, but still find every moment possible to enjoy what we do and how we do it. Constantly creating ties and reaping the rewards and effects, no matter the weeping that is caused.

A Summary of My 2013: "Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure"

"We bring it into being. Let go, be led into the most full present moment," he says to me. "Do those things that make time stop for you. Watch each moment pass you by. The more you let go, the more fully you will be able to make those connections to the universe that stop time." 

We are complex by degree. These words have played in the back of my mind all year as I try to understand what I am doing, how I relate to the animals I spend so much time with everyday, who I am, and how I make sense of the mysteries of island life.

She says, "I love because my love is not dependent on the object of love. My love is dependent on my state of being. So whether the other person changes, becomes different, a friends turns into a foe, does not matter because my love was never dependent on the other person. My love is my state of being. I simply love."

While I watch the people around me drown themselves in their miscommunications and alcohol dependencies, I try to evade the loneliness that is forever haunting me. I forage and do yoga and run quickly through the woods imitating the deer I'm frightening. I write a song a day in hopes that one of them won't be awful, which is a failure of course. I sleep where I can here the tides. I sleep where I can hear the frogs, where I can't hear the parties or where I feel like I don't belong.

He sums up my thoughts perfectly, "Painting is kind of like life. When you think you have something good, you fall in love with it, you marry it. Then it just ruins it."

So we strive to become better than we are. And everything around us becomes better too.
And when we love, we always strive to become better than we are.
And I love the frog noises at night. The salmonberries. Hazy winter mornings. Sunny summer afternoons. Magic hour before the sun goes down, when the trees are golden. Spring birds in the morning. Calmness at the beach. Peace in the woods. Ocean breeze.

You say you're afraid of getting hurts. Well so am I, but I'm always more afraid of hurting you. My tongue is sharp, my mind is quick, I can do harm without control. But I do my best to only be kind and honest. Especially honest.

Just be an honest, genuine human being to everybody around you and you will become connected to the very life everything is a part of.

"Seize everything. Don't be afraid. It's easy to die."

And she explained to me, "I realized I had just entered an interesting chapter in my life. I had outgrown the boys of my past and not quite grown into the men of my future."

And he said, "It's hard to instill the importance of memorization when information is so freely and instantly available. It's become a world where the path to success is much more muddled, and social skills are beginning to seem more important than academics."

"And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material - awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless-- for it let man become precisely what he alone made of himself."

Because some people fill the gaps and other emphasize my loneliness.

"The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

Fish and Rabbits

I spent the day butchering rabbits. It's hard to explain how it feels. Its a solemn kind of day, there's no vulgar cheering or pride; straight faces, calm hands, a focused kind of demeanor mark our gratitude. I was thinking it feels like I spent the day clear-cutting a forest.  When we kill rabbits, we kill a whole litter. Today we did two litters. But people who clear cut a virgin forest and then replant it with hybridized saplings thinking that makes up for the entire community they just destroyed are doing something that is greedy and ungrateful, even cruel. What I did today was done in a different spirit.

A few days ago, I watched as a group of students and teachers harvested eggs from the female salmon they had caught in a catch pond as the chum were headed upstream to spawn in their freshwater home. The students picked up the surprisingly huge creatures, verified that they were female, laid the fish down as it was wacked over the head with an aluminum baseball bat, then tossed into a cart full of water. Other students then took the carcasses and sliced open their bellies, releasing the eggs into a bucket. This was all new to me, having spent most of my life in the midwest and being completely unaccustomed to seaside life. I was surprised by how gruesome it was. The routine nature of the killing, and the smirky joviality that the handler of the baseball bat had seemed cruel to me, as if he didn't even recognize that he was ending so many lives. And the reason for all this, for collecting eggs and spawning them in tubs inside of buildings, is because greed has become the norm. We fish more than we need, more than would naturally occur, so fisheries make sure fish are raised with higher survival rates than salmon that are born naturally in streams.

"No it wasn't simply the death of fish that bothered me. The thing I found offensive, the thing I hated about Mohican-mountain-makers, gill-netters, poachers, whale hunters, strip-miners, herbicide spewers, dam-erectors, nuclear-reactor-builders or anyone who lusted after flesh, meat, mineral, tree, pelt, and dollar--including, first and foremost, myself--was the smug ingratitude, the attitude that assumed the world and its creatures owed us everything we could catch, shoot, tear out, alter, plunder devour . . . and we owed the world nothing in return." (David James Duncan, The River Why, p. 134)

Cheers

It's Sunday again. Which means I write. And another thing too, it's fall. Which means, I'm content.  There are these few weeks each year that make the rest of the year worth it. And most days are foggy or dreary, but every miserable winter day is worth these few sunny days where the leaves glow as if they're on fire with the light of the sun, or when the wind blows and we can't keep focused on anything except the dead pine and fir needles floating down and the burnt orange maple leaves rustling their way to the ground. I notice my breathe more these days; maybe there's just more substance in the air to feel filling my lungs. I want nothing more than to work with my whole body these days. Gardening, cutting firewood, stacking firewood, anything where I can be outside during the day and heat myself with my labor. The sun goes down slowly and early, then we all stay inside where its warm and light.

Yesterday the electricity went out. I think for everyone it brings back memories of being a kid, huddled around candles reading books or playing games, like a fun adventure. I like the excuse to be with everyone else who doesn't have electricity without the usual buzz of television or music. It's the same reason I love going to the mountains. You have to deal with yourself and with each other directly, honestly, without neon distractions.

This is my toast to autumn. Here's to shorter, slower days, reading books, knitting projects, working outdoors, squash soup, cups of tea, and times with the people we love when the power goes out.

I Came To Find Beauty

This is the kind of place where people wear sensible shoes
I watch their feet. Up. Down. Painted. Clean. Dirty.
Usually I see faces, but today feet.
I look over a bit too long at the boy two stalls over.
I sure wouldn't mind if he came over, if you know what I mean.
The ocean breeze might just push him this way.
Does anyone ever think the same thing about me?
I wonder.
It's funny how our bodies mean so much to us when we are young.
The strength and perseverance of my own muscles continually amazes me.
The old lady buying cheese from me has hump so big on her back,
it looks like a cat crawled up her shirt and is curled up,
asleep below her shoulders.
God, our tall, lean, curly-haired children would be beautiful.
I'm still eyeing that boy.
She said we all come to this island to find beauty.
Maybe she's right.
I wander.

Here's To Summer

sleepy morning

summer morning

picking bouquets of weeds

in fields of sheep

the robin's whistle taunting me

the greenhouse whirs

telling me what I already know

to put on my shorts

and feel the sun on my shoulders

these long summer days

call for deep sleep at night

playing games all day

with feet black by dusk 

I cherish these days

my skin turns that golden brown

my curls a shade lighter

my body feels light too

and my heart can't help but do the same

A Postcard

Dear Sheep,

Why do you always act so suspicious of me? I've known you for months, spent hours a day talking to you, touching you, bringing you everything you need to survive. Yet you still act unsure of me. I want to tell you to trust me, but then again, some day I may be the one to push you into a trailer that marks the end of your life, so maybe you're right not to fully trust me. I admire you for your patience. You know those days when I come to get you and I'm in a rush and you all just refuse to hurry up for me? Well, thanks for that. I know I have to slow down to your pace and putz along as you do. I feel lucky to be the one to wake each of you up in the morning, wait for you to stretch, take your morning pee and poop. You aren't affected by my rushed behavior...I wish I could be more like that, you know? Take my time, not get rushed by other people, stretch in the morning.

Another thing, it's so bold of you to stray from the flock when you do. It makes me glad that you're hesitant to go it alone, knowing the protection of being among friends.

And your curiosity, especially you young ones, is something I sympathize with greatly. How interesting the world is and all new things, thanks for reminding me. There's just so much about you I wish to emulate--your strength yet gentleness, playfulness, calm nature. And I know you're competitive sometimes, but I guess that just comes with living in such close quarters with others.

You're my girls, ya know. My friends, really. I'm so glad our paths have crossed.

W

21 List

"Fear. Belief. Love. Phenomena that determine the course of our lives. These forces begin long before we are born and continue after we perish"

I've just had another birthday so my list of 21 things to do while I'm 21 should have been completed by now. Of course, I didn't do everything, but then again, I never do. Also, the point of the list isn't really to complete every action on the list, but to align myself and figure out who I want to be by the end of that year.

The list of things I did do:
1. Hike in the Grand Canyon ( 10/5 Rim to Rim)
3. WWOOF
5. Stop being afraid of climbing
6. Keep in touch
7. Get a job
8. Write: journal, blog...something
9. Make cheese
10. Hang out with Mo
11. Try to have a relationship with professors my last semester of college
14. Think about/ learn about what it means to love
15. Yoga everyday for one month (February...what up)
16. Learn about herbal medicine and practice it
17. 21 National Park visits (I only got to 15...but that's pretty good)
18. Figure out what I want/ who I want to be
20. Send a letter per week
21. Take more photos

What I didn't do:
2. Visit Boulder, CO
4. Get a tattoo (it will happen as soon as I think of something good enough)
13. Hike Wonderland trail (but I  made it to WA and I look at Mt. Rainier every clear day)
19. Do Karaoke (it'll happen...)

Most of them were easy to measure. The hardest were numbers 14 and 18. I thought I'd share the little I figured out.

So, who do I want to be/ what do I want? I want to not buy into hate and fear, be genuine, confident (not try to be anything than honest to myself and others), balance logic and emotion within myself, live a calm, contented, simple (yet adventurous) life: garden, cook, read, make music, hike, live in a beautiful place, learn constantly, use my hands, creativity, brain all at once, include everyone (be kind, be kind, be kind).

What I learned about love. This one is harder to answer and while I've experienced love and heartbreak a little more, it's pretty damn hard to write down what I've learned from my experiences. I've learned that heartbreak is lonely and just plain awful. The first 10 days of a romantic relationship are awesome. It gets harder from there. But for some reason, it's worth it.

I mostly learned to simply be open to love. Open to giving love freely and receiving it joyfully and being supportive of love between others. To be caring, gently, loving--it's not weak, it's actually a sign of strength and selflessness. I also learned that I have to be deliberately open in order to love others.

"I love because my love is not dependent on the object of love. My love is dependent on my state of being, so whether the other person changes, becomes difference, a friend turns into a foe, does not matter, because my love was never dependent on the other person. My love is my state of being. I simply love." -Osho

"When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too." - The Alchemist

Hello year 22! A new list coming my way soon!

Reunion

all we want is to connect
to be a part of something
a family, a history
the story of life itself
but we don't know how
so we obsess over our iphones
hoping for some glimpse of human connection
we go to church and feel God
feel a part of something outside ourselves
take mind-altering drugs
and drown ourselves in alcohol
poisons that blur the disconnect
maybe its all a matter of opinion
who am I to judge what is better and worse.
You know, I can't help but convince myself
 that I am right
and they're all wrong.

because I've seen just a glimpse
the story of why I am who I am
why my mother raised me to be thoughtful
and how her mother, her grandmother,
her great-grandmother did the same.
I cherish the stories, the similar noses,
the deep hugs, the love of strangers
I feel inextricably connected to.

She drew me close
to make out the shape of my eyes
through her own aging, worn eyes,
saying how much I resemble
the woman I love so dearly.
She called me beautiful
then posed with a smirk,
"well, of course she is,
look who she takes after!"

And, another, she rides motorcycles.
the others fear her boldness.
she says what she means
not too sweet, but not too sour.
she knows of her autonomy
but recognizes how limiting it can be
drawing her to adventures here and there
cold dips in mountain pools
sweet, delicious mangoes in faraway places
the eyes of someone who needs something she has
and stories aplenty to captivate
to share, to teach the next generation
what it means to be a human.

so I go home, still unsure of what that word means
but its land and its people,
I am forever entwined with.
and the orange glow of the sunset
illuminates the trees like never before
the trees rest on the land of the old neighbors
the ones who have no one to give the land they love to
he notices the setting sun, the ending of the day
and I wish I could be the loved one
he passes his home unto.

I haven't felt motivated to write much lately, but today I'm feeling the need to be creative. And while building a fort or doodling or making pottery are all options, writing always ends up being the thing I need to do most.  ...even if it is just a dumb blog post. I'm sitting here on my porch noticing the new songs of birds that come around each day, the constant baaaaa-ing of the wee little lambs, and the purr of the vacuum pump down in the milking parlor. I can breathe deeply now. My body feels strong, balanced, open thanks to all that yoga I've been doing and lifting so many heavy things throughout the day. My heart feels more open than it ever has been. Open to being loved and of giving myself freely, open to the depth of joy and change. "Enjoy each experience that comes to you, and don't think about it too much"--my newest mantra in life.

A Day In The Life Of A Shepherdess

I've been trying to think of the best way to describe my experiences of the past couple months, but I'm not really sure how to go about it. So, I think I'll just start with today. Here's what happened

I woke up at 6am, it's dark. I make a big pot of coffee for everyone. I mix up the milk replacer and feed the 19 baby lambs. I gave them new straw for bedding and they went nuts, bouncing with their uncoordinated limbs, hitting each other, the walls, the panels, the water bucket. Oh the joy of straw in the morning. Got a panicked call that there was chaos in the barn, so we put on our jackets and boots and headed down the hill making jokes about what the chaos could be. The chaos: one sheep had twins, another sheep had been in labor all night and hadn't had any of her babies yet but decided that one of the twins must be hers. Meanwhile, the 40 other sheep are running around like bimbos because they want food. We give them food, get the twins with their mama in a pen. Meanwhile we stick a hand into the one who had had contractions all night and pull out a little white ewe, stick hand back in and pull out a little black ewe. We put them all in a pen. I spend the next half hour getting the babies dry (via towel and hair dryer), clipping umbilical cords, weighing them, getting them to nurse, making sure their mama doesn't step on them. Meanwhile, I see another baby beginning out of the baby-stealing mama, so we pull a big strapping ram out. She's still in labor, so we pull another big strapping ram out of her. Dry, clip, weigh, record, feed, water. Time for breakfast.

Also today: one of the new strapping rams got stepped on and we had to take care of him. One of the quads was far too itsy bitsy and cold so we had to take care of her. Little oven from the other day wasn't looking too hot--nursed her back to health. A stillborn lamb came out of mama with the twins after passing her placenta. The chicken coop flooded. Taught some lambs to bottle feed. Put stomach tubes into a lot of lambs. I cried twice, laughed a lot, took a lot of deep breaths. I really didn't like finding and picking up the rigid stillborn lamb. I started swinging it from its back legs to see if it might be alive, then I held it for a second waiting for it to kick or move like all the other lambs, but nothing happened. And I realized that I really didn't want to hold it anymore.

I really really like sheep. They are fantastic animals. Taking care of them feels tiring right now. But let me tell you about that sheep milk yogurt and cheese...yum.