In Praise of Wildness

In my struggle to release the grip my mind has had lately on wanting to figure Everything out, to over-intellectualize, as it were, I've been turning inward, creating space and quietude. For myself.

Then, this morning, in yoga, my teacher shared this passage that brought Everything into perspective. Into my cells, actually...

Here's what she read:

"Wildness is the state of complete awareness. That's why we need it."

~Gary Snyder, Turtle Island

The more still we become

the more wildness arises within.

Does a lion feel the pleasure

of its power gathering

like river water at a dam,

its strength building as it sleeps,

dreaming of the chase?

Can a snake never be straight,

but merely uncoiled,

waiting to spring to movement?

Is a hurricane a wilderness of air?

A cyclone a suspended door

to a turbulent sky?

Does the heart grow larger

in the glassed-in chest

when we forgive?

That's the wildness.

Can you let it

embolden you,

made form, made flesh?

From this wildness,

can every cell in your body

find gratitude,

make praise?

~Leza Lowitz, an excerpt from Yoga Heart

...and so, I invite you to sit quietly and breathe into that wildness. May it bring you a felt sense of knowing, a keen awareness beyond words.

Namaste.

September

Dreams, Intuition and the Inner Life

 September is a pivotal month during which the outward-directed energy of summer begins to shift inward in preparation for the six months spent in the darkness of the Earth Mother's womb.

This month we will review our lives in the form of spiritual autobiography.

We will open our sixth sense by noticing synchronicities, and we will enter the world of dreams.

September is the gateway to Mystery, and as the Medicine Wheel turns from summer to fall, we are greeted by the Archangel Raphael

--the Healer of God--

who remedies the sickness of belief in perfection by administering the great medicine of wholeness. Listen to the voices of the Ancient Ones 

who call from the mycelial mat that grows beneath the forest floor:

The inner and outer

harvests are complete

and the storehouse of the unconscious

is swept clean.

We enter the Gates of Mystery

through the Dreamworld

descending into the

fertile darkness in which our souls

are made new again.

excerpt from Pocketful of Miracles: Prayers, Meditations, and Affirmations to Nurture Your Spirit Every Day of the Year, by Joan Borysenko, Ph.D. 

My yoga teacher reads to us during savasana and this is what she read the other morning. It's been hanging with me as so much of it has been feeling so true and right as we enter this new month that I want to share it. My dreams have been hauntingly real. Have yours? Things I've been needing, like gathering with friends and family, have seemingly just happened for me -- synchronicity's clearly at play. What synchronicities are you noticing?

The "great medicine of wholeness" has been deftly offered to me in difficult-to-swallow, yet somehow just-right doses. Dark moments have come on mysteriously and left me clearer and even energized as I rode them out, grasping their meaning when I could and trusting my strength and safety through the discomfort. There's something here about enoughness, I think. This inflection point between summer and fall being the time that we get to notice, perhaps for this first time, areas where we've been trying too hard seeking perfection, areas that need to heal.

I wonder what messages lie in my Dreamworld? This passage has given me food for thought and a bit of the magical spark that I love to move me onward and upward toward the coming season. What does the transition toward fall-time mean for you?

Clear Vision: Yoga and the Ecology of Awakening

This month features the work of my yoga teacher, Natalie Hanson, and her partner, Adrian Villasenor-Galarza. Their vision is manifesting in the form of a unique and sacred journey into the pristine jungle of Mexico and the rich jungle of our own interior. There they will lead a deep immersion into Yoga, the beautiful art and science of Self-Realization, and Ecology to take an intimate look at all our relations. The core premise of the retreat is to become aware of how much our personal yoga practice has the capacity to influence and positively transform consciousness on a planetary level--humans, non human beings, and Nature. Influence and positively transform consciousness on a planetary level? Sign me up!

To find out more about this retreat, its leaders and the beautiful Xinalani Retreat, go to Living Flames.

Distractions, distractions and more distractions

I don't know if it's spring fever or the full moon, but I just can't seem to focus today! My plan to be productive keeps getting waylaid by friendly phone calls, drop-in visits and a general lack of concentration. Humpf.

Trusting my instincts by heeding my method of wisely chasing synchronicities, I find guidance right in my inbox -- apparently I'm not alone. ElizabethPW's been musing about something similar and her strife seems to be pointing to cluttered thoughts and that great teacher: Resistance. Molly Gordon has written a post that helps me to see that this distraction may in part be caused by electronic clutter.

Now my awareness has been sharpened. I'm thankful for my mentors and my ability to be flexible with myself and my plans. I can now ask myself, "What is it about my 'plan' that I'm resisting?" That's something to identify and work through with my coach. I can also reduce the clutter, both in my electronic inbox and in my office. De-cluttering is my new priority. Knowing this, I feel relieved and back on track. Phew!

Are you feeling distracted? If so, what's the culprit, really, and what sort of guidance, if any, have you received to help you to know what to do about it?

A blessing of trees and storms

The Man Watching
-Rainer Maria Rilke

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can't bear with a friend,
I can't love without a sister.

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights with us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestlers' sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

-Translated by Robert Bly

from Risking Everything: 110 Poems of Love and Revelation

Edited by Roger Housden

Nothing like a little mass distruction to start the day.

I woke Friday morning to the sound of my favorite radio deejay's voice calmly advising that there would be a tsunami arriving at 8 and that I should check the news for details. Her message was brief, without substantiating details. My first groggy thought was, "Is it April 1st? Is she trying to fool us?" Quickly becoming alert, I convinced myself that, no, it was still March. So I went to the computer to see what I could learn. Little did I know then what a wake up call this was.

There had been a massive earthquake in Japan and the entire Pacific bowl was to be affected by a tsunami. I quickly gathered what information I could to first determine my own safety, then set out to get a better picture of the bigger story.

Family okay, check.
Others in my community okay, check.
Then I heard that schools were closed. I've heard of snow days, but tsunami days?!

I put two and two together, realizing that a couple of our local schools are shelter locations during events such as this and drove down to the local elementary school to see if I could lend a hand. A representative from the American Red Cross assured me that they had only about twenty evacuees and that they had plenty of support for that number of people. He suggested that how I could really help would be to become directly involved with disaster relief in my area. You see, said he, most of the volunteers had to come from miles away to support this morning's evacuation effort. Had this turned out to be a real large-scale disaster, one where people are not just temporarily displaced, but homes are destroyed, infrastructure is disrupted or damaged and all things are thrown into a shocking state of mayhem, he and they would not have been able to get here so easily, at least not without a helicopter. Seriously.

So that got me to thinking as I was listening to my fear shouting, "We've got to do something!" My fear fed by remembering all the criticism over how long it took FEMA to get clean water to the communities devastated by Hurricane Katrina, or the utter helplessness I feel when I hear, "what are they going to do about those over-heating nuclear reactors?" The hackles of idealism are going up along the ridge of my back as I type. Something's got to be done. Just who is this they anyway? It's really all about me, us, and we, when it comes down to it. Isn't it? The way I see it, having better and more local safeguards in place, including being personally prepared, is critical in ensuring that disaster victims are cared for quickly and effectively. No matter where you live, there's some real threat of something happening that can devastate your life, your family, your home, your community. Any of us could be a disaster victim. I know you need no convincing that the threat is real!

...and here I am all up in arms and at the same time full of anxiety over the sheer insignificance that I feel when I consider the size of the role that I alone play in all this. In the midst of knowing I'm safe and others are in sheer tumult. I've got to do something and I could be doing so much more. Taking a big, deep breath, there's a swell of relief that comes when I realize that I'm not alone, it is we who are at work here. ... and WE make a difference every time we increase our awareness and open our hearts toward others. We care, we can't help it. These small actions of compassionate listening empower us to know what to do in times like these by improving our ability to respond and to feel the significance of the profound ripple effect each of our efforts has on the healing of the whole.

I'm going to start small and work outward from there. I've decided I will engage in a conversation with my husband to come up with a disaster preparedness plan for our household, something we haven't done formally. I want to have a plan for what we'll do if disaster strikes and we're apart when it happens. ...and I want to have this plan in place by the end of this week. What if we can't reach each other by phone and panic begins to take hold? I know for us, having an agreement about what we'll do so that we can count on certain behavior from one another is key. I will start there. The Red Cross has all kinds of information about disaster preparedness and is a wonderful resource for you to find ways to help, too. I hope you'll join me in taking some actions this week to ensure that we're even more ready to protect ourselves and to care for each other when disaster strikes again. All I'm asking is that you decide to do something to prepare yourself just a bit better. Join me and develop a disaster preparedness plan for yourself. Are you in? Let me know what you decide by leaving a comment.

Smoke, Seeds and Shadows

A fierce wind blew out the moon late last night and brought in a morning so cloudless that everything was broadly lit by a rich, gorgeously golden sunlight. The crisp robin's egg blue sky provided such a contrast to the edges of the leaves and the hills and the birds and the wires that the word perspective didn't sufficiently describe the depth and aliveness of the scene.

It's midseason and also Groundhog Day, with a blown out moon, to boot, so I conjured up a bit of ceremony to call in spring by honoring its approach, lighting a bonfire and planting a few seeds, both those of intention and the vegetable kind, all under the supervision and guidance of my two dogs, three goats, several ravens and a red shouldered hawk. ...while chirpily serenaded by a chorus of frogs. It really was quite lovely!

Meanwhile, across the continent, Punxsutawney Phil, the prognosticator of prognosticators, has predicted that spring will come early this year, which makes me feel far less guilty for enjoying this beautiful day as I have been knowing that many, many others are suffering subzero temperatures and more snow than they'd like. Spring is on its way!

This day is a good day for grounding activities -- there's been so much expansive, sometimes creative, even destructive energy in the air that it's left many exhausted and overwhelmed, and others a bit confused or disoriented. Take good care, be close to the earth, light a candle (or a bonfire!) and take a good long soak in a beautifully scented, salted bath. The steps that you've taken and the cycles you have set in motion are about to reveal something big! Best that you are ready.

Information is Key

I had planned to write today's blog post on my experiences while traveling in Cambodia last summer, but the events of my last fifteen hours or so have pointed me in another direction.

While working diligently yesterday afternoon on my homework for the awesome business-building course I'm taking, my elder dog, Kelly, was out back suffering from the sudden onset of what I believe to be Vestibular Disease. My focus was on myself and my work and I hadn't noticed how quiet my dogs were being as I plugged away happily, feeling quite content with my progress. You can imagine my dismay and gut-wrenching sadness when I went to let the girls in and found our dear Kelly seemingly unable to sense the location of the Earth beneath her, a dribble of saliva dangling from her typically dainty muzzle. I stood stricken, at first wanting to blame myself for putting her outside to begin with, then shaking with fear, almost paralyzed at the thought that I, we, might be losing her. I remained immersed in this sense of impending loss, sadness and fear for a few moments as I did a quick scan of the yard. Yes, there it was -- further evidence that she had been suffering for a while -- vomit, times five. Now, about ready to hurl, not at finding the puke, but because the fear and impending loss were twisting my stomach around their fingers. Then, as Kelly stood there, unafraid, yet a bit confused, I knew what to do. Seek more information!

I opened my senses and observed her movements while stroking her fur to soothe her. She melted into my care and took comfort in lying down as I coaxed her into her bed. Next, I called the vet to get a sanity check on what was going on... "Is she having a stroke?" I asked. "Not likely," the doc responded. "It's highly unusual for dogs to have strokes or other vascular episodes. It's tough to know what's going on without seeing her," she offered. "I understand, and thank you, but I feel as if I need to keep her here at home, at least for the evening, so I can be with her and get a better sense of what's going on." The doctor graciously gave me a few more minutes of her time as I shared more of Kelly's symptoms: nausea, drooling, refusing water and food, and a disoriented presence, paddling her legs about as if she were unsure how to use them. She agreed that it wasn't unreasonable for Kelly to stay at home tonight, then she provided me with a clue. "It could be something called Old Dog Vestibular Disease. This is a condition where they become suddenly dizzy, which would be in line with the symptoms that you're describing. You can treat the dizziness with Bonine to see if that helps." Wow! Okay, a new direction. I felt the grip on my stomach loosen a bit as I thanked the doctor, hung up the phone, and took a few deep breaths.

Now, as the details of Kelly's condition are still unfolding, I'll have to ask you to check back with me to see how things progress. Meanwhile, to share a bit more about how all this applies to my bigger story...

I'm beginning to see a pattern. The discovery of my dog in this state led me to open up my senses, look for clues not only in the physical landscape, but within my emotional body. My gut literally convinced me to seek out enough information to get very clear on the right thing to do. Being very present to the situation, to my dog, and to myself helped me to navigate the information that was coming in and to know, really know, what to do next. Without my presence, I could very well have spent the whole night fretting on the uncertainty of Kelly's lifespan, spinning tales of my own ineptitude at caring for my pets, or some other unproductive crazy-making activity. If information is key, perhaps presence is the hand that turns it.

Something's about to shift...

Tomorrow's Winter Solstice will be paraded in by a full moon and a total lunar eclipse tonight. Opinions seem to vary on the significance of this astronomical coincidence, however it's certainly a rare astronomical event. Wikipedia says, "It will be the first total lunar eclipse to occur on the day of the Winter Solstice since 1638."  I can't help but feel that this marks the apex of a great turning.

Go ahead, google it... there are plenty of articles out there saying this and that. My idealistic nature tends toward following the threads of hope and possibility. My sensitive nature tells me to celebrate this occurrence by setting some intentions and staying up late to watch this celestial ceremony take place.

Here's a little of what I've learned in exploring this phenomenon:
According to Molly's Astrology, "The Full Moon is the culmination of the Moon’s cycle, and the beginning of the waning phase. . . . This is a good period for working on ourselves, finalizing things, processing information, wrapping up, and letting go of the things we don’t need anymore. This is a time for progress in the inner, rather than outer, realm. Farmers often use this time to plant root crops, which grow under the surface of the earth. A Lunar eclipse is a very special Full Moon. Decisions we make, things we let go of, and things we finish during this waning cycle have significance in the future. It is an excellent time to give up an old habit, for example, smoking. Full Moons in general, and Lunar eclipses in particular, are times of high emotion, and they bring awareness. The Sun and the Moon, our animus and our emotions, are on opposite sides of the sky, as if the other were a mirror. This is a time of mirroring, we can see ourselves in others if we are willing to look."

In the past weeks, I'd already begun finishing up old projects that have been looming and readying myself to shed what no longer serves, somehow driven to do this -- now more than ever before in my life. This letting go makes room to feel our emotions deeply and learn from them, allowing the new-found knowledge to turn to wisdom in our bodies as we assimilate what we're learning on a cellular level. As we take in each breath of the eclipsing moon as the Earth's shadow melds with the Solstice Sun's radiance to cast a blood-red glow, the breath swirling into the farthest reaches of our being, the Universe breathes us back.

This eclipsing moon is happening during what is known astrologically as The Long Night's Moon [astrologyexplored.net] and the Winter Solstice. "In Celtic mythology the Winter Solstice marks the death of the “old king” an allegory for the old year, and the birth of the “new king,” the New Year. There will be endings, but in these events are the seeds of new growth. In Celtic legend, the “new king’s” birth is hidden until December 24th, when the days start to visibly lengthen. The period in between the solstice and December 24th is called the nameless day, a period suspended between death and birth and belonging to the realm of the underworld. Eclipses act like an exclamation point . . . !"

It's a time of celebration -- for the coming year, the lengthening of the days, and now the new and great things on the horizon. ...and for me and a few other people I know, a birthday! I hope you'll join me in celebrating by looking skyward tonight and setting an intention of what you'd like to let go of, bring to a close, once and for all END! If you can't stay up that late don't worry, what's most important is that you give voice to what you're willing to let go of. What better time than now for preparing to kick off the next big thing in your life or even hit the "restart" button altogether.

I'd love to know what you will be casting off tonight. You can share some of your intentions here by leaving a comment.

Halloween, Death and Funerals

I've been somewhat consumed by the impending death of my mother-in-law. I'm sad that her time here with us is almost used up, grateful for having known her and moved by the way that my husband is grieving the loss of his mother, even already now that he's accepting the reality that she won't be around much longer.

Too, it seems that I've been hearing about death quite a bit lately. The death of loved ones close to people I know. It's almost as if death is something the season brings, along with the falling of leaves and the shifting winds.

It seems that there's some truth to this and I'm not the only one who's been thinking this way. Just the other day I received an email from a friend and mentor. She shared a lovely article that I'd like to pass along to you as it provides a fresh and soothing perspective that I've taken great inspiration from.

Halloween, Death and Funerals
By: Michelle Schubnel


I have always loved Halloween. 

As a kid, it was about scoring as
much candy as possible. In my teenage
years, it was a night when I could
justify getting into trouble. And
as an adult, I have totally loved
costuming-up for Halloween parties.

Halloween now has a new meaning for
me. My mom died on October 28, 2005
and her funeral was on Halloween. A
few hours after she died we set
October 31 as the date for the funeral.
At the time I thought, "Well this
really sucks. From now on Halloween
won't be fun because the day will
always remind me of my mom's funeral."

My mother's funeral was a spectacular
East Coast autumn day... clear, crisp
and sunny. As I noticed signs of the
changing season, I remembered something
that I learned from my study of and
participation in Native American
traditions.

According to Native American philosophy,
the time between Halloween (October 31st)
and All Souls Day (November 1st) is the
time of year when the "veil between the
two worlds is the thinnest." It is the
time when the spirit world is closest
and most connected to our physical world
here on earth.

That perspective shifted how I felt about
my mom being buried on Halloween. Instead
of it being a bummer, it was now a gift.
Suddenly it was "pretty cool" that my mom's
funeral was on Halloween.

The next Halloween, one year after my
mother's funeral, I participated in a
sweat lodge ceremony - a native American
prayer tradition, conducted inside a sweat
lodge, which looks like an igloo but feels
like a sauna. During the ceremony we were
reminded that the end of October through
the beginning of November is a powerful
time to connect with the souls and spirits
of people who have passed on.

During that sweat lodge ceremony I felt
my Mom's presence in a big way, much more
so than at any other time since her death.
It was incredibly powerful and enabled me
to see and experience how I can still have
a profound connection with my mom, even
though she is no longer here physically
on earth.

It's now been 5 years since my mother's
death. With the passing of time I have
found that the intense pain and sadness
has lessened, and the overall missing of
my mom has increased. 

If you are experiencing grief from the
loss of a loved one, I encourage you to
take advantage of this special time of
year and connect with the people in your
life who have passed on. Allow the feelings
of sadness and grief to be fully felt. Take
comfort in special memories. Remember and
honor all that you loved about the person.
Ask for guidance and support. This is a
powerful time of year to reconnect.

In memory of:
Barbara Ann Schubnel
1943 - 2005

Barbara at the Venetian
Vegas Trip - Summer 2004

I love and miss you Mom. It's too bad you
never got to meet my wonderful husband Adam.
I know you would love him as much as I do.

reprinted with permission, Michelle Schubnel, Coach & Grow RICH, www.CoachandGrowRICH.com

Unwilling to accept this as a helpless situation

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!

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.

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.