the fog hasn't burned off here since Monday... I'm caught between enjoying the abundant birdsong and the fact that everything's lush and green from the moisture in the air and a severe lack of motivation and tendency toward falling into a funk. Today I'll choose to be sunny despite what the weather brings and take the opportunity to nurture my mind, body and soul by marveling at the mist, drinking plenty of water and connecting with others like me!
Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm definitely not known for being all goodness and light all the time, but when the goin' gets tough, my warrior nature comes forth to put everything right. "I'll have none of this doom and gloom," she says. "It's just a little grey and moist out there -- definitely NOT the end of the world." ...and deep down, I know she's right. I know the sun's up there, just beyond the fog, a consistent presence providing me with gravity to help keep me grounded and occasional doses of vitamin D to help me to assimilate important minerals, at least.
So, I'll count on that.
Meanwhile, it's officially the full moon in another hour or so here. I won't be able to see the moon until much later today due to its orientation with the Earth in relation to me. Perhaps the fog will have lifted by then to afford me a glimpse. It's the wedding day of some dear friends and the power of this particular full moon, the one that follows the summer solstice and is also a partial eclipse, is sure to bless this day with rich abundance in the form of collective creativity. An astrology report that I read this morning explains: "...such a configuration can lead to great creativity, by squeezing us to be more resourceful and inventive." I'm looking forward to being a part of the collaboration of what will make this day a beautiful celebration of love, community, Nature, and shared gifts, excited for my friends as they embark on this new depth of being together.
I'm still hopeful that the sun will shine as it is my friends' wedding day, after all, but if I have to accept that I'll be wearing long pants and a sweater rather than the pretty green dress I had picked out, so be it!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
An unexpected visitor
As we were driving home from the farmer's market just now, I noticed what I thought was a toad hopping in the road. As I slowed my car to a stop, I realized that it was a baby bird. Concerned that it would get squished by another driver on this shady stretch of country road, I asked my husband to rescue it from the street. Assuming that it was too small to care for itself and guessing that it was kicked out of its nest, we decided to bring it home to see what we could do about providing it with something that might allow it to fully fledge and survive on its own.
When we got home, we pulled out the bird book and identified it as a pygmy nuthatch, Sitta pygmaea. We learned something of its habitat, feeding, and growth and felt blessed to have the opportunity to get to know it better.
Judging by its plumage, we believe it's a she. She's got most of her feathers and appears to be uninjured, but isn't able to fly. Perhaps she's just not ready yet. She happily took some water that we offered her from a dropper and some aphids from our plum tree.
We realize despite our excitement that she's got to be pretty frightened, so we're allowing her some time alone to rest near an open window so she can hear the birds of her species in the trees outside, but not so near the window that she will catch a chill. I know that birds are extremely sensitive to drafts so I want to be careful.
We're encouraged by her willingness to eat and drink what we've offered. She's content enough to preen, so we're taking that as another good sign. The fragile yet persistent lifeforce inside her coaxing her to express her birdness is a profound example of the inner knowing that all beings have to take care of themselves even if it means accepting help from complete strangers. What a brave little bird! I only hope that we can offer her enough of the right stuff to ready her for independence.
When we got home, we pulled out the bird book and identified it as a pygmy nuthatch, Sitta pygmaea. We learned something of its habitat, feeding, and growth and felt blessed to have the opportunity to get to know it better.
Judging by its plumage, we believe it's a she. She's got most of her feathers and appears to be uninjured, but isn't able to fly. Perhaps she's just not ready yet. She happily took some water that we offered her from a dropper and some aphids from our plum tree.
We realize despite our excitement that she's got to be pretty frightened, so we're allowing her some time alone to rest near an open window so she can hear the birds of her species in the trees outside, but not so near the window that she will catch a chill. I know that birds are extremely sensitive to drafts so I want to be careful.
We're encouraged by her willingness to eat and drink what we've offered. She's content enough to preen, so we're taking that as another good sign. The fragile yet persistent lifeforce inside her coaxing her to express her birdness is a profound example of the inner knowing that all beings have to take care of themselves even if it means accepting help from complete strangers. What a brave little bird! I only hope that we can offer her enough of the right stuff to ready her for independence.
Friday, June 11, 2010
The goats arrived!!!
Today marks the anniversary of the day the goats arrived here at Soul Fire Farm. It was a sunny and cool day three years ago -- truly a perfect day to welcome them in! Five little goatie girls, Nubian-Boer mix, about 12 weeks old... Of course they were frightened at first and found comfort in each other, staying bunched up in a tight herd and hiding in the tall queen anne's lace and nettles.
It took some time for us to get used to each other. Me, not being a goat and new to goat-keeping and them being in a brand new place with everything about them seeming strange and unfamiliar. The first week was spent sitting near them quietly, letting them know that I'm not a threat. We were curious about one another and they began to learn that they were safe here. By the end of that week we had named them -- Maaxx, Cinnamon, Pearl (S. Buck), Cecile and Emily, their personalities providing evidence of who they were as individuals. Maaxx, the smallest, was very vocal and the first to make contact. She would call out as if to say, "I'm here and life is good! MAAXX!!" Cinnamon's warmth, her soft, woolly coat and the color of her floppy left ear made her name evident. My daughter, Jules, named her and quickly claimed her as her favorite. Pearl S. Buck, Cinnamon's sister, having a propensity to greet us suddenly from behind with her little horns, had a name that came easily to us. Not so much for her literary prowess... Cecile, ever-the-skeptic, standing farthest back in the herd with her lips pursed as if wanting to speak yet not finding the words. And Emily, Cecile's sister, the prettiest of the bunch, whose fur bristles with uncertainty between trust and the pull of her flight instinct.
Soon they had cute little red collars with shiny brass name tags so they could be readily identified by neighbors in case they somehow got out. But was that really the reason for the collars and name tags? I realize now that I was identifying with them as individuals. Seeing them move and act as a group and now all have matching collars was only the beginning of my understanding of these girls. Although each was born as a separate being, they truly function as one. They are a herd and it's taken me a good part of these three years to get to know the entity of the herd itself. They've established an echelon -- each has a need to be treated the same as her herdmates, yet there's a definite order to who gets what when and how much. There's something more to it than your typical human group dynamic that's tough to describe in words. They are interconnected by an instinctual force that is deep within them. ...and it's a different interconnectedness than what I've observed in dogs when they run in a pack. More similar to birds with their pecking order and tendency to bunch together and move in synch with one another. Perhaps that's why a herd of goats is also called a flock.
I've learned so much from their presence in my life. The loss of Maaxx that first winter while I was away at an ecological farming conference taught my husband the importance of processing grief his own way and gave him the opportunity to create his own ceremony to honor her life and the transition that returned her to the Earth sooner than we had hoped. We were both given a crash course in caring for very sick ruminants, something neither of us had any experience in. Maaxx was a runt and hadn't developed a strong immune system. She was overtaken by parasites that had taken up residence inside the guts of the whole herd. She got the brunt of it and Cinnamon was also very ill. Maaxx and Cinnamon were being kept separate from the others in the weeks that preceded Maaxx's death. The stronger goats horribly bullied them in an attempt to cull them as if they were diseased appendages. Maaxx and Cinnamon pined for their sisters and we'd allow them short supervised reunions with the herd, but the bullying continued. Cinnamon eventually got strong enough to return to the herd full time, but not Maaxx. We gave her free reign of the garden to browse on any herb, vegetable or fruit tree she wanted in hopes of getting her enough additional vitamins and minerals to bring her back to good health. She received lots of pampering and daily visits back to the herd. In time, however, she lost interest in eating and became very weak. Yet she never lost her spirit even when she could no longer stand on her own. She couldn't even call out her own name... MAAXX! only a tiny gasp of air lifted off her dry, nearly lifeless tongue. Until the night before she died. She called out... MAAXX! pining for her herd... MAAXX! and my husband understood. So he scooped her up gently, making sure she was secure and warm in her little goat coat we had bought her to help protect her from the winter chill and he carried her down to the manger and nestled her in the straw amongst her herdmates. They stayed with her that night allowing her to be a part of them one last time. By morning she was gone.
For the next week of so, they laid on her grave, in their own way mourning the loss of a bit of their own lives. Scott and I miss her still, yet we're somehow better for having had the opportunity to be a part of her herd.
Today our herd is strong and healthy. The adoption of Paloma, an American Alpine who arrived the following winter, creating new shifts in the herd and new opportunities for each of us to grow and learn even more about goat herd dynamics. It will be interesting to see what brings the next significant shift to our herd. Meanwhile, we'll enjoy them in all their innocence and never stop learning from them.
It took some time for us to get used to each other. Me, not being a goat and new to goat-keeping and them being in a brand new place with everything about them seeming strange and unfamiliar. The first week was spent sitting near them quietly, letting them know that I'm not a threat. We were curious about one another and they began to learn that they were safe here. By the end of that week we had named them -- Maaxx, Cinnamon, Pearl (S. Buck), Cecile and Emily, their personalities providing evidence of who they were as individuals. Maaxx, the smallest, was very vocal and the first to make contact. She would call out as if to say, "I'm here and life is good! MAAXX!!" Cinnamon's warmth, her soft, woolly coat and the color of her floppy left ear made her name evident. My daughter, Jules, named her and quickly claimed her as her favorite. Pearl S. Buck, Cinnamon's sister, having a propensity to greet us suddenly from behind with her little horns, had a name that came easily to us. Not so much for her literary prowess... Cecile, ever-the-skeptic, standing farthest back in the herd with her lips pursed as if wanting to speak yet not finding the words. And Emily, Cecile's sister, the prettiest of the bunch, whose fur bristles with uncertainty between trust and the pull of her flight instinct.
Soon they had cute little red collars with shiny brass name tags so they could be readily identified by neighbors in case they somehow got out. But was that really the reason for the collars and name tags? I realize now that I was identifying with them as individuals. Seeing them move and act as a group and now all have matching collars was only the beginning of my understanding of these girls. Although each was born as a separate being, they truly function as one. They are a herd and it's taken me a good part of these three years to get to know the entity of the herd itself. They've established an echelon -- each has a need to be treated the same as her herdmates, yet there's a definite order to who gets what when and how much. There's something more to it than your typical human group dynamic that's tough to describe in words. They are interconnected by an instinctual force that is deep within them. ...and it's a different interconnectedness than what I've observed in dogs when they run in a pack. More similar to birds with their pecking order and tendency to bunch together and move in synch with one another. Perhaps that's why a herd of goats is also called a flock.
I've learned so much from their presence in my life. The loss of Maaxx that first winter while I was away at an ecological farming conference taught my husband the importance of processing grief his own way and gave him the opportunity to create his own ceremony to honor her life and the transition that returned her to the Earth sooner than we had hoped. We were both given a crash course in caring for very sick ruminants, something neither of us had any experience in. Maaxx was a runt and hadn't developed a strong immune system. She was overtaken by parasites that had taken up residence inside the guts of the whole herd. She got the brunt of it and Cinnamon was also very ill. Maaxx and Cinnamon were being kept separate from the others in the weeks that preceded Maaxx's death. The stronger goats horribly bullied them in an attempt to cull them as if they were diseased appendages. Maaxx and Cinnamon pined for their sisters and we'd allow them short supervised reunions with the herd, but the bullying continued. Cinnamon eventually got strong enough to return to the herd full time, but not Maaxx. We gave her free reign of the garden to browse on any herb, vegetable or fruit tree she wanted in hopes of getting her enough additional vitamins and minerals to bring her back to good health. She received lots of pampering and daily visits back to the herd. In time, however, she lost interest in eating and became very weak. Yet she never lost her spirit even when she could no longer stand on her own. She couldn't even call out her own name... MAAXX! only a tiny gasp of air lifted off her dry, nearly lifeless tongue. Until the night before she died. She called out... MAAXX! pining for her herd... MAAXX! and my husband understood. So he scooped her up gently, making sure she was secure and warm in her little goat coat we had bought her to help protect her from the winter chill and he carried her down to the manger and nestled her in the straw amongst her herdmates. They stayed with her that night allowing her to be a part of them one last time. By morning she was gone.
For the next week of so, they laid on her grave, in their own way mourning the loss of a bit of their own lives. Scott and I miss her still, yet we're somehow better for having had the opportunity to be a part of her herd.
Today our herd is strong and healthy. The adoption of Paloma, an American Alpine who arrived the following winter, creating new shifts in the herd and new opportunities for each of us to grow and learn even more about goat herd dynamics. It will be interesting to see what brings the next significant shift to our herd. Meanwhile, we'll enjoy them in all their innocence and never stop learning from them.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Welcome to the Sensitive Idealist!
Here a place to find connection, inspiration, information and resources for your journey in life as a sensitive idealist. I'll be sharing insights and musings, providing a forum for collaboration, and highlighting sensitive idealists who are out there making this world a better place!
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