THANKSGIVING THANKFULNESS

vincent van gogh

I did Thanksgiving twice yesterday. It serves as a measure of the thankfulness in my mind over the last few days thinking about the importance of giving thanks, gratitude, appreciation. It is a social day of seeing friends and family all over the land, for some a happy day, for some an unhappy day, according to the individual's experience from birth on. I used to think it an unhappy time, many years ago. My later years are so much better than the early years, I hardly ever think about the early years. Dwelling on them for even a short time brings me down. They were years of depression without recourse, something on the order of hands cuffed behind my back, being assaulted by a cop and charged with resisting arrest. Like when you're up against a cop in court, you lose, nobody believes a child and children are property. What a long, drawn-out time of the long years of childhood, waiting to grow up and take charge of my own destiny, for better or worse. In the teens I would lie in bed at night and fantasize hitchhiking to the West Coast, get a job on a merchant ship going to Asia, leave the ship, walk to Tibet and never return. These were the years Tibetans were leaving the homeland for India to escape the Chinese invasion. The kid was unaware of news of the day outside looking at Time magazine for History class, current events. The rest of the world amounted to a fantasy in my head after movies and television. By the time I saw Rome, I'd seen some Fellini films. The whole time there, I was looking for it to be like a Fellini film and it was not. He was showing movie stars. What I saw was regular people like we see everywhere. Rome did not have the aura of sophistication Fellini films suggested in my mind. I wondered how he got La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2 out of Rome. 

vincent van gogh

Walking on sidewalks among Italians, cars and scooters in a free-style race on the streets, Rome fell from its place as idyllic city in the clouds and crashed into everyday life. Scenes were not framed, but went all the way around. The streets in Fellini's Rome were mostly empty of motorized transportation. Rome of everyday life had so many cars and such frenzied traffic the dream cloud Rome went poof. I'd heard the English were friendly and polite. That one went poof in London. It's like meeting a writer whose work I really love. Suddenly, he or she turns into everyday life and the glitter of my projection falls to the floor. It's a similar feeling with times like Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. So much supposed-to is around all of them that anything short of supposed-to, like everyday life, drains the glory out of the day. I noticed yesterday when the dinner was over, it was like Thanksgiving is over, similar to Christmas being over when the last present is opened. From then on it's waiting for the day to be over; daddy's home from work, hunker down and stay out of sight as much as possible. The kid had a happy nature, wanted to be laughing and having fun, but a light hearted attitude made the kid a target. Depressed and shut down, the kid was safe. Through the high school years on Christmas vacation from school, I'd come down with flu first day and recover last day, feeling cheated out of my vacation, but sick in bed the kid was safe. I really don't want to drag you into that place. It created an attitude toward life, hand-in-hand with Fundamentalism in its most absurd extreme, I could not live with out in the world among other people. I've spent my adult life adjusting my attitude toward life, raising it from anger and depression a step at a time, understanding by understanding, insight by insight. My sanity I knew lurked hidden way down deep within locked away for safe keeping. My Hope diamond in the safe deposit box. Uncovering it became the purpose of my adult life. 

vincent van gogh

Essentially, I had shut down my heart that became so wounded I withdrew it from further disappointment. I was told once I was like a cactus, don't get too close. I suppose it was a defensive attitude and possibly a charm to some who would be challenged by someone they can't reach emotionally. The only thing I knew for sure when I went out on my own was I could not and would not live the rest of my life like parents lived. I would not live bitching at a partner, nor being bitched at. I carry this today. When somebody starts bitching at me, that's it. If I were one to believe hitting solved problems, a few people in the past would have been knocked to the ground. Having learned to internalize my anger instead of expressing it, I get mad, then depressed and never want to see so-and-so again. And don't. I don't disrespect anybody and do not tolerate being disrespected. This goes back to early conversations with self, "I'll never take this shit the rest of my life," sealed with determination in the heart. I've walked away from four jobs, that I can think of, over disrespect. At the moment. Didn't wait two weeks. The first time I said, "I took this shit all through my childhood. I don't take it anymore." The other times I failed to explain. Once it's done, it's done. There's no going back. No matter who it is. And I don't have a problem with it. I'm glad I think enough of myself to weed my immediate environment of people who believe they have a right to disrespect me. I remind self, "I don't go back for seconds." An employer who uses his right to fire me as a threat, forgets, or never thought of it, that I have a right to fire him. Rights run both ways in my adult life, or not at all. I came to the mountains to retreat into semi-solitude and live my life in peace. I am devoid of time for people who believe they have rights I don't have or power over.

vincent van gogh

This explicates why I am not a success in business or anything else that pays. If gulping down disrespect is good for making money, I don't want the money. Money is not worth that much. I sometimes think, in certain parts of big cities you can be killed for disrespect. I don't give disrespect, consciously. I can't say I don't because I don't know. Consciously, I cannot allow myself to be disrespectful, but unconsciously, I can't say. I have a way of saying something unconsciously to somebody I meet the first time, something I really should not have said. I've come to see it is a way of saying I'm not somebody you want to know. I've trimmed my social time down to the people I care about who care about me. In this time of the life, I have neither time nor space for superficial acquaintances. Which brings me to Thanksgiving dinners. I had two. In both cases people I care about who care about me. First one, 2 to 7, was friends here from somewhere else,  comfortable company, great food. The second, 7:45 to 12:30, was my friends from here, my hillbilly half, equally comfortable, equally great food. All day long I was thinking how wonderful this is, a Thanksgiving dinner in each of my worlds. I embraced it as such, enjoyed each gathering in the moment every moment. When I say people I care about who care about me, it feels like I mean a flow of empathy both ways. We feel safe in each other's company. Safe unto rescue in a time of need. Good vibrations flowing. Frequently, I'd pause within to take a look at the moment and think, I'm thankful for this. It was representatives from my two worlds that I'm like a bridge between, except nobody uses the bridge to go one way or the other. I felt thankful that I've learned to be equally comfortable in these very different cultures. It was about twenty-five years crossing the bridge between the two. I felt continually thankful to see self at home in both my worlds, that I have wonderful human beings for my friends. 

vincent van gogh by himself

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THANKFUL FOR DONKEYS

jenny sez gimme carrot

jenny sez thank you

This time to think thankful brings forward the obvious, the first thing to come to mind. As I look at one, another comes to mind and another. I look at one of them and others pop up. It gets so complicated I don't know where to start or even what to say, except to make a list. Not going to write a list. Caterpillar comes to mind first, every time I look at the question. Jack and Jenny are up front, necks stretched over the fence, reaching with dexterous donkey lips for a chunk of carrot. Jenny says, Write about me, write about me. To Jenny I say, Easily done, beautiful Jen. Jenny is a fascinating donkey. She has charisma. She's aware of herself as a presence. She has a powerful ego, jealousy a strong characteristic. She wants to be first, even when she's not Alpha. I'm not saying she's an evil woman; she's far from it. These are characteristics we see in children and deny in ourselves. But the ones we live with know. Jack found the way to get along with Jenny's jealous nature. He just steps around her and stays out of range. He lets her have her way. Jack is not pushy with his personality. Jenny wants the sweet grain first, will have it first, while Jack moans, sounding like he's about to break into tears waiting for his. If I give it to Jack first, Jenny runs him off. They have separate eating places for the grain and hay, as well as carrot. I give Jack carrot first to honor his Alpha role and to reward his braying. Jenny's neck is over the fence, head extended all the way, reaching with her lips like she'd been waiting all night for carrot. She's expressive. You see her feelings in her actions and sometimes her eyes. Jack doesn't show his feelings or what he's thinking. He's self-contained. I know him well enough I can see his feelings sometimes. I see it in his eyes. He shows his feeling very well clamping down on the back of Jenny's neck with his vice-grip jaws.

jack brays

Their sorrow from losing the baby has faded. They are working so hard at "trying to make a baby," they are both single-minded. Jenny is just as worked up as Jack is. Jack is so much in love with Jenny, it is visible to the human. He wants to be with her all the time. He looks at her with a loving eye. She looks at him with the same eye. Their focus of attention is on each other all the time. Jenny did not like me touching her for quite a long time. Times I would give Jack a good rubbing on his back, neck and legs, Jenny watched closely. She then wanted me to pet her too. By now, we are so comfortable together she doesn't feel defensive. She's still somewhat skittish, but that's just their nature, constantly alert to the split-second. They live in the present. The day and night we cried together, Jenny let me hold her with my arms around her neck as long as I wanted to. It's not something she takes to readily. Jack likes for me to hug his neck. Jack is a comic. He likes to laugh. I learned his sense of humor before Jenny entered the meadow. It took a long time to bond with Jenny. She was so distracted by Jack in their getting acquainted time, I stayed this side of the fence. She was in grief from losing her friends she'd lived with before, and she had this jackass to contend with who was too happy to have her in his meadow, he couldn't help but want to show her his gratitude. She settled down when she fell in love. Six months of living with Jack, she was in love. He was in love the moment they met. Jenny took the Alpha role for herself in self-defense, and she was the biggest. Jack is quite a lot smaller than Jenny, which made conquering her a serious conquest. In the first few months I was feeling sad for Jack that I'd brought him a woman who could kick his ass. It was no problem for Jack.

jack munches morning hay

Jenny emerged first from the donkey den when I went out with carrots. She put her head through the gap between the gate and the post like she rarely does. She was hungry. Snow on everything, they could not go in search of something edible left in the meadow. Had to wait for Ice Cream man to take his time going out into the snow to deliver their hay, carrot first. They've eaten carrot every day they've lived here. It's the first thing we do every morning, unless it's raining hard. Snow doesn't stop us. Jenny was funny this morning sticking her neck through the gate gap and sticking her head straight out, Me first, while Jack brayed. Sometimes she's like a child that had no training. Donkeys don't know about Ms Manners. They do what works. I feel like they communicate so well without language, I doubt they feel like they're missing anything. They understand their names and the words and phrases I repeat to them every day. They surely think Ice Cream man has some magic vocal powers. Not only does he keep his balance easily on his back feet, he can hold things with is front feet. And when the coyotes come marauding in the night, Ice Cream man hollers GIT in his magical language and the coyotes go away. Every time I go to the door to yell at the coyotes, they quit. I wonder every time at how marvelous the donkeys must think that is, to have a magic sound that scatters coyotes. We humans are such a mystery to them, I am curious about how they think about us. First thing I know is it's now how we might think. I don't know how they think, though I suspect to our way of seeing, it would be something we'd call a dream reality. living fully in the subconscious, the super-conscious. They don't have monkey-mind forebrain. Therefore, the present is the only time they know.

jenny munches morning hay

Recalling a time I had chickens. Someone visiting from the city told me chickens are stupid. I took it for such a ridiculous statement I couldn't respond. I didn't attempt to explain they have all the intelligence they need, aware that city-dude had the span of attention of a cat and wouldn't hear anything beyond the first phrase. Already, I have enough insight into a donkey's intelligence that it pains me now to hear somebody ignorant called a jackass. In the popular belief system donkeys have no intelligence. I grew up believing a lot of nonsense adults told me. I know better than to go back. I know donkeys to have at least the intelligence of the smartest dog. I just live my life knowing what I know about donkeys and let other people believe as they will. Because they will. I am neither a commercial nor a missionary. As with politics now, I've withdrawn my interest from a popular police state. Other people want to believe what they want to believe, it's ok by me, just leave me out of it. I like my world here with donkeys and a cat, good reading, good films, good music, good car, good laptop. Maybe I live too much in my mind, but thanks to grace, I have peace in my mind and don't want it cluttered by people that hate in the name of Jesus, and the white men everywhere with Limbaugh rants of hatred in their minds. The whole world of the media is false. I don't like that world of fascists vs liberals. Is this what happened after learning history became irrelevant since the Sixties? Now that learning, itself, has been irrelevant for several decades, our political representatives, who only represent us by being self-centered like the rest of us: all for me, forget everybody else. They represent the worst in us. It's not my way, so I withdraw my attention and turn it to everything and everybody I'm thankful for, letting the rest of it go.

jenny feels the snow with her neck

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