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.    

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

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

 *

 

 

 

 

NAMING THE DONKEY MISS ED

miss ed third day

 

How fast a baby donkey is walking independently has been catching my attention day after day. Each day the baby donkey is bigger, more stable on its feet, more in line with mama's movements and more in tune to mama's teaching. First couple of days when baby stepped inside mama's forbidden zone while she was having her grain, Jenny popped baby with a hoof. They were not power kicks, not even kicks, but a firm nudge saying go no further. Today, Friday, baby's fourth day, Jenny merely lifts her back hoof off the ground, just a gesture, and baby backs out of range. I've seen that baby stands midway between Jenny and Jack, just out of range of their back legs, while they are grazing. Baby's first learning as a young donkey was that donkeys kick, it's what donkeys do. And donkeys need to learn to take a kick before they are able to kick. Jenny's instruction these first few days I am looking at as "mother's milk," instruction so early in development it shapes us into who we are unconsciously, pre rational thinking.

 

this was inside jenny

 

A few months before baby was born, I asked the three year old child of my friend Meredith, who is living in the greater San Francisco area of several cities grown into one, to name Jenny's baby when it arrives. I've known Meredith all her life as the daughter of my friends Lucas and Judy. Teddy, her three year old, was kind of struck dumb being asked out of the blue to name a donkey. I realized then it was a tall order, conceptually, for a three year old. Hadn't considered that. I thought it might have been presumptuous to ask a three year old to stretch his mind that far. He said, "I'll have to think about it." I thought it remarkable for a three year old to say he'll have to think about it. Maybe I did pick the right kid to ask. I wanted to ask the youngest person I know. Teddy. I wanted a name I would never think of on my own, a name separate from my mind. A couple days later, Teddy spoke. He said, "Mr Ed if it's a boy. Miss Ed if it's a girl." I wondered how a three year old in San Francisco knew about Mr Ed the talking horse. Montessori pre-school maybe?

 

miss ed's natural born camouflage

 

Of course, my editing mind went to work over-riding original intent, thinking I wanted a girl's name, a variation of Ed. Didn't care for Edna or Edith, but liked Edie. Thought I'd change from Miss Ed to Edie. Edie sounded good in my mind. But out in the meadow with the baby, I could not call it Edie. The name did not fit. Miss Ed fit. I found my mind automatically thought of the baby as Miss Ed. I'd look at her and Miss Ed was how I'd think of her. Then by association, Edie Sedgwick came to mind and would not leave. She was a rich California air-head who went to NY in the time of Andy Warhol's Factory, was given a big spread in Vogue as the latest new thing in New York. She fell in with the Factory bunch, upper middle-class junkie runaways, became a junkie right away and the subject of Bob Dylan's song, Like a Rolling Stone. She fell through the bottom and went back home to California, unable to take care of herself, and lived in an empty swimming pool. She symbolizes for me the ultimate loser. I did not feel right naming my baby donkey after a psycho air-head junkie. It didn't feel right to name Jenny's baby after a child who had been raped by her daddy throughout her childhood. When I thought of the baby donkey as Edie, Edie Sedgwick popped up in my mind's eye. I did not resonate with the association.  

 

miss ed's ears

 

All the time my mind was chewing on the name Edie, Miss Ed was there as the baby's name all along. The original intent behind asking a three year old to name the  baby donkey was to bypass my own mind. While the baby was being born, she was Miss Ed. She was Miss Ed before she was born. Every time I looked at the baby, I automatically thought, Miss Ed. I asked a baby to name a baby in order to bypass my own ego. Naturally, ego had to jump in to assert itself, take over, say Mine, spray paint my initials on it gangsta style. Once I made the decision to go with Edie, Edie Sedgwick grew and grew in my mind's eye. I went to YouTube to see videos of her in the Warhol time. Her image grew in my mind until I wanted mind free of images of a psychological plane crash, someone whose surface was privileged, and below the thin surface the heart of darkness. I can't burden my baby donkey with those associations in my head. By the end of the third day I realized my error of editing original purpose. I sighed relief and inhaled understanding that Miss Ed really is the donkey's name. I only think of her as Miss Ed. By now, after thinking about it all day yesterday, I am repelled by the thought of naming the donkey Edie. Miss Ed she is. She is so much Miss Ed I wonder if Teddy had intuitional access to Jenny's baby.

 

mama jen

 

 

photos by tj worthington

 

 

*

 

 

 



BABY DONKEY'S THIRD DAY

 

baby donkey two days old

 

I'm happy for Jenny that her baby arrived without a problem or any sort of complication. She fell into mother mode the moment her baby was out in the air. She is still my friend Jenny with a new aspect of her personality come forward. Her attention is on her baby at all times. She's the same with me as always. She's a good teacher. She's a rough teacher, but she's a rough donkey with a rough baby. In the first hours, baby wanted to walk in front of mama's legs. Jenny hit it with the side of her head to push it to the side. I used to wonder how mothers taught their babies without language. Of course, babies don't have language, so language is out of the picture. Baby would walk back in front of her feet and Jenny would knock it to the side, teaching it over and over, as many times as it takes, teaching it to walk beside her, not so close in front. Today baby walks to the side of mother's head when not out front leading the way or behind mama.

 

mother and child

 

Jenny is comfortable with me near her baby. I don't do anything to push her into discomfort. My approach in Jenny's early days, weeks, months with her baby is to stand back, admire, talk to Jenny, call her Beautiful Jen, let her know I mean no harm to her baby. I think of Jane Goodall sitting among the chimpanzees, being still, body language saying not a threat. I keep arms down and when I use them go slowly like there is no rush. I've discovered recently that when we humans move fast like we do, jerk around like we do, make unpredictable arm movements, the animals become wary of us. The donkeys have taught me the pace of their flow. I move as though there is no hurry about anything, I have all day, may lie down for a nap if I take a notion, and the donkeys pay me no mind. They see me, but feel no alarm. It's when I move fast and unpredictably they watch closely and stand back with a wary edge. Sitting still or moving slowly, both donkeys are available to be touched. Moving fast, they back away from my hand. I've learned this as a form of communication between us. Body language is important to them. I show them I'm in physical tune with their flow.

 

new in the world

 

Baby is learning to meditate early in life. Mama grazes on what's left of the green grass and the hay I take to them in the mornings, baby has nothing to do. Baby can't graze, can't be nursing all the time, so baby stands in place, stands still and almost falls asleep standing up. I've watched baby stand motionless for a long time. It's what donkeys do. They stand still all day. Stand in place and graze, move a step or two, stand in place and graze, take another step or two and graze some more. They are in motion all day and are still all day. Baby is learning that donkeys stand around a lot. Nothing much going on but grazing. No marauding dogs, no predators, no bull donkeys moving in on Jack's territory. They have a peaceful home, a meadow with a fence around it to keep everything and everybody out, shelter, a primate to give them carrots and hay in winter when the grass is gone. I don't want to push myself onto the baby donkey. I'd rather she slowly get to know me, see me every day, see Mama Jen is not afraid of me nor is Jack. I am part of her world and she will know me as such. She will learn from Jenny I'm to be trusted. That's when I'll start getting to know baby more personally. Baby and Jenny need each other's undivided attention now.  

 

baby meditates while mom and dad eat their grain

 

Today, Thursday, I went out into the meadow and sat on the exposed root of a big maple to watch them. Jenny and baby walked out into the meadow, I set the camera on video and followed what they did. Jenny is aware the camera is an eye that sees her, but I think that's as far as she can get with it. She walked up to me, wanted to feel it with her lips and then her teeth, wanted to see what it was made of, maybe good to eat. I know what she's doing, so I don't freak out from fear she'll eat my camera. She just wants to feel it, see what it's made of, understand it. It spooks her a little bit, aware it sees her, and she doesn't know what it is. While watching the baby I was feeling the chosen name in relation to the donkey herself. Edie never rang right with me. Miss Ed sounded and felt just exactly right for the donkey I was looking at. I ran them both over and over in my mind, listening to their sounds and feeling them. Miss Ed feels right. Edie feels like a name tag. Miss Ed feels like the donkey herself. I am feeling like I'm going to let it be Miss Ed, maybe Miss Edie her grownup name. My feeling is it will be Miss Ed. When I see her, I think Miss Ed automatically. I'll ruminate on this some more.

 

miss ed

 

photos by tj worthington

 

 

*