KNEE DEEP IN THE BLUES AGAIN

 

 

Went out with carrots this morning to see the donkeys and spread some hay for them an hour early. Jack brayed when I opened the door. Jenny not in sight. I took it she was in their shed. She came out after a few minutes of hearing me talk to Jack. No baby followed her. I waited. No baby. All night long, every time I woke, my mind was occupied with the baby. I was thinking it has not been growing. It has been slow and distant the last few days. I was thinking about seeing if I could get some donkey or horse formula from the vet early this morning, the reason I got up early. I've wondered from the beginning if Jenny had enough milk in her udder to feed a baby. I opened the back door to the shed, and there on the hay I'd put on the floor, lay donkey baby asleep, not breathing. My heart sank all the way to the ground. More sorrow for Jenny and Jack and sorrow for me over them. In a death, I tend to mourn for the sorrow of the living, including my own loss, rather than the one that went on, who is ok.

 

 

 

Jenny is eating her morning hay. She brays from time to time, calling for her baby, goes to check on it, it doesn't move. She returns to the hay while baby sleeps, brays from time to time. Jack is standing around like he doesn't know what to do. I think about the bat symbolizing death and rebirth differently from how I thought of it yesterday. I interpreted the "shaman death" had already happened while it was yet to be.  Now, it is a matter of digging a grave and carrying the baby to the grave and covering it over with dirt. I've put so many of my friends in their graves, I already know the worst part is throwing the dirt in, hearing it hit my friend's body and keep on shoveling. I do not want to dig another grave, but will do it. My heart weeps for Jenny and Jack, again. The other hard part is I have to tell y'all about Miss Ed leaving the body while hearing Jenny and Jack bray for their baby to wake up.

 

 

 

In a way, I'm grateful to be so well acquainted with the sorrow of grief. In childhood I was terrified of grief. I'm grateful now because I know I can take it. It hurts so bad that without the experience of much sorrow, it would hurt worse. And I don't ever want to get to the place it doesn't hurt. I've even learned to embrace the pain as my gift to the one who gave me joy for whatever the span of time, eighteen years, twelve years, ten days. Returned to the house with a heart full of sorrow and a head full of thoughts. Can't do anything until at least later in the day. Turned on the laptop, went to facebook, and one minute before, a facebook friend who lives in town had messaged me about a young dog, a lab mix, saying it was a smart dog, which I already knew it would be. My last dog, Aster, was a lab mix. A dog any smarter than Aster would be too smart for me. My mind was sufficiently blown. Already at least one major decision to make, and a few others, and a decision about whether or not a dog thrown into the mind-heart salad of the day.

 

 

 

On the phone with my friend Carole this morning, I went over reasons I cannot have a dog in this time of the life, then reasons I would want a dog, reasons I miss having a dog, and saw the scale tip heavily toward the dog. I must make it a point to self to walk daily. I cannot go for a walk without a dog. I love walking with a dog and despise walking without a dog, unless I'm going someplace in walking distance. Even then, it's better with a dog. My muscles are losing tone really badly, girth filling out really badly, I don't exercise at all. I call walking through the grocery store exercise. Talked to self daily for a long time about taking a walk, and never do. Too boring. I need a dog. Feeling like to go on as I am going becomes more unhealthy every day. I don't want to be a feeble old turd staring at the nursing home ceiling with a roommate watching Fake tv all day and night, because I didn't walk when I easily could have. I miss having a dog in the car sitting beside me, either curled up or watching scenery go by. I miss riding with a dog as much as walking with a dog. A dog will shake me into motion and be a friend, protector for Sophia. Amazing. Death and rebirth simultaneous.    

 

 

 

 

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BAT MEDICINE AND PLAY

neighbor gary chauffeur of trees and sky

 

Brought more hay for donkeys up from the barn before the rain. I can fit three bales in the trunk of the car with lid up. Park beside the road and roll the bales down the hill to the place I stack haybales. A blue tarp protects them from the rain. Donkeys have a ball when I deliver new hay. Jenny and Jack stand at the corner of the fence ready to watch, like me waiting for the mailman, expecting a new book in the mail. It alarms them slightly, the bales rolling down the hill. Jack jumps and frolics in a small circle. Jenny stands back and watches. Neighbor Gary came down the road in his PT Cruiser and stopped. I stepped up the hill to the road to visit for a few minutes. We talked about baby donkey and I noticed a red bat flying up and down the road, cavorting, playing, up and down, in circles. It looked like the bat was indeed playing, putting on a bat dance in the air for me personally. It flew back and forth, about a hundred feet up the road one way, then about a hundred feet down the road the other way, this way, that way. I couldn't stop watching it. I'd never seen such a demonstration of bat flight in the past and knew I never would in the future. I gave it my full appreciation.

 

find the bat

 

Attempted to take some pictures of the bat, but none of the still pictures worked out. The camera focused on the trees in the near distance, putting the bat out of focus, it's in swift motion too, I could not find the bat in the still pictures. Made a brief video in which  the bat, a speck, can be seen flying for maybe two seconds. The air above the road along there is a channel for air flow between my trees and the bank across the road. The bat flew from one end of my trees to the other, leading me to believe the open air along that stretch of road is a good place for a bat to find flying bugs. I googled red tree bat, found a description, notes about their habitat and how they live. And red tree bat is what they're called. I had several good looks at it flying by. Can see it clearly closing my eyes. I asked Gary to step outside the car to see it, billing the flight a once in a lifetime moment. A time came I was impressed by the bat's stamina. It flew for so long we stopped looking and went about or ways. Birds need rest after extended flight, but the bat kept on flapping wings, cavorting, diving, circling. It looked like it was putting on a show, though I doubt it was aware of being watched, though an observer does change things. 

sofia observes the primate

 

In the house, I went to Jamie Sams' book, Medicine Cards, to see what bat represents. The book came with cards, each having a picture of a form of wildlife, like bear, dragonfly, hawk, deer, skunk, 52 of them. It is a form of consulting chance, like tarot, I Ching, and others. In the Native American way, medicine means anything that improves one's connection to the Great Mystery and to all life. A few pages in the book tell the spiritual gift of each animal, bird, reptile or bug. Once, a hawk flew above the hood of my 78 Toyota pickup for about a tenth of a mile, looking back over its shoulder at the primate through the windshield. At home I looked up hawk to see what the hawk might be saying. One of the aspects of Hawk medicine is a message that I should circle above my life and examine it from a higher perspective. I take a visitation by one of the animals for the same as drawing one of the cards. It felt so much like the bat was telling me something, I looked it up. In every case, Bat signals rebirth of some part of yourself or the death of old patterns. Bat represents what is called the shaman's death and rebirth. Rebirth is the main theme of the bat. 

miss ed says this is different

being a donkey

Two strong cases of rebirth came into my life lately with a kitten in the house and a donkey foal in the meadow. Reading of bat I felt recognition that rebirth, a change of patterns, was in the works. Before kitten came into the house, I was feeling fairly glum. Caterpillar was gone and my heart was mourning her. Jenny kept on expecting. I faced Jenny's expectation with sorrow, hoping, daring not to hope, her baby would live and be in good health. I did not want Jenny to suffer again her grief from losing her first baby to premature birth last year. I still miss Caterpillar who lived here eighteen years, though sorrow turned to joy when Sophia entered the house. Old patterns going away. Caterpillar leaves her old cat body, Sophia new in her cat body. The successful birth of Miss Ed turned sorrow to joy like bringing Sofia home.  Feeling a renewed sense of my own life. Sophia has taught me how to play. We have play time every day. Noting the value of play courses through my mind. I play better with four year old Vada from awareness of play's importance, and how to play, not just in child development, but all along the way.

 

vada

 

 

 

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BIG MAMA DONKEY AND THE CURIOUS CAT

miss ed's seventh day a donkey

 

Handing carrots to the donkeys was fun this morning like always. I stepped aside while Jenny was chewing to visit Miss Ed face to face the other side of the fence. Jenny was comfortable with me so close to her baby. I told wee furry donkey her name is Miss Ed, told Jenny too. Jenny and I looked at each other eyeball to eyeball and I told  her she is a beautiful donkey. She heard it. I could see it in her eye. I'm a believer, because I've seen it bear out in my dogs and cats of the past. I tell a cat she or he is a beautiful cat every day, it's not long before the cat starts seeing itself beautiful and becomes beautiful. The four-leggeds are every bit as vain about their appearance as we humans are. I've seen a couple of articles lately from different sources about a teacher who, each day, tells every kid in the class, individually, how wonderful they are as human beings, tells them what is special about themselves. The kids bloom and become what she told them, following their talents she unveiled from knowing them.

 

sofia the beautiful

 

I was heartened to see this being applied to kids. When I started each article, I already knew where it was going, I've been practicing this for years. I did not start telling them they were beautiful to test a theory, but because I thought they were. A cat is one of the most beautiful forms of life there is, especially in motion. A dog is too. Every four-legged I've ever seen I'd call beautiful. And looking at the birds, they're all beauty itself. Not much is more beautiful than a red squirrel sitting on a flat rock next to a fern, sitting up, nibbling a sunflower seed's shell held in both hands, framed by the window. Birds are the essence of beauty. Even buzzards are beautiful. I've seen over twenty buzzards circling a draft that went straight up in clear blue sky, the birds at various levels like a living mobile, slowly circling, some one way, some the other, all the way up to out of sight from clearly visible. I hold Sofia and look at her up close in awe of the beauty. I tell her she has beautiful eyes, beautiful whiskers, beautiful nose, beautiful fur, beautiful tail, beautiful feet, because she does. I see in her now awareness of her beauty. She moves about and sits with a subtle self-confidence that her beauty is appreciated. I also praise her behavior, which is exemplary.

 

sofia tree climba

 

Returning to the house from seeing the donkeys, Sofia darted through the door at my feet and went up the screen door. She wants out so desperately, I've decided to let her outside with supervision to watch for dogs and keep her out of the road. I make it into our play time to avoid making outside a taboo. When I'm with her, the birds see me when they may not see her. I let her out the door, propped the screen door open with a rock in case a dog appeared and she made a dive for the door like last time. First thing, she sniffed the footprints of the coons and possums she sees through the window in the night, tail fluffed out like a squirrel's, creeping such that if I were to clap my hands once, she'd go three feet straight up. She ran to a tree and up its trunk, then came back down backwards like they do. She was an outdoor kitten where she came from and has a longing to be outside. I've attracted the birds here for too many years to turn a cat loose on them. She likes having me with her outside. I'll solve the conundrum by making outside our play time.

 

looking at jenny from a safe place

 

I followed her with the camera, going up tree trunks and down tree trunks. She went around to things she was familiar with through the window, investigated them up close, curious to find out what they were. Her tail was fluffed out all the time. She saw the donkeys from the big white pine between house and donkey meadow, and crept toward Jenny standing at the fence watching this new cat she'd seen in the window. Sofia knowing the donkeys through the window, she was curious to see Jenny up close, but hesitant to step too close, donkey so big. I picked up Sofia and held her to Jenny's nose, Jenny wanting to sniff the cat. Sofia did not mind. Jenny felt Sofia's fur with her lips, and Jenny touched her nose to Sofia's nose. Sofia was a bit nervous, donkey's head was twice the size of Sofia's whole body, but she was also curious. She felt safe with me holding her. She seemed to me fascinated seeing Jenny up close, impressed by her size when seen through the window she's the size of a cat. I showed Sofia to Miss Ed, but Miss Ed was too new in this world to take an interest in the primate holding a cat. I want Sophia to be comfortable with the donkeys and see she already is. I think they're ready to be acquainted. Both are curious.  

 

note the fluffy tail

 miss ed nursing

jenny multi-tasking

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A POEM BY ROBINSON JEFFFERS--THE SOUL'S DESERT

emergence by tj worthington (30"x30")

THE SOUL'S DESERT

(written August 30, 1939)


They are warming up the old horrors; and all that they

        say is echoes of echoes.

Beware of taking sides; only watch.

These are not criminals, nor hucksters and little jour-

        nalists, but the governments

Of the great nations; men favorably

Representative of massed humanity. Observe them.

        Wrath and laughter

Are quite irrelevant. Clearly it is time

To become disillusioned, each person to enter his own

        soul's desert

And look for God---having seen man.


                                 --Robinson Jeffers 
                                               American (1887-1962)

photo by tj worthington

 

 

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