21 December

Rose On The Path: I Wish The Same For You

by m2admin
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

 

It is on the path and in the pasture that I feel the loss of Rose. I am not feeling grief so much as loss, a heavy-hearted sadness that settles in my chest once a day or so and lingers. Animal Communicator Jeannie Lindheim told me that she had a vision of Rose settling in over the farm, sprinkling all of us with a fine and  delicate dust, almost like a powdery snow. And Rose was saying to me, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, her sweet and gentle soul now a part of the place, in all of us, everywhere.

It was a lovely image.

But I have had a different one today. It  was on the path that I talked to Rose, rather see her,  and that she shows me her life. Rose and I were telepathic when it came to one another and if I stand down the edge of the path, where Rose loved to smell and explore, and if I close my eyes, and I see her streaking across the sky, angels and cherubim and fairies and spirits swirling all around her, trailing streams and vapours of color, scattering clouds and rainbows all across great and blue prairies. And in my vision, she is not here, not on the farm. She is aware of me, but has left me and my life behind, is looking forward always, into the sun, towards the morning.

I loved what I saw, tearing up, and then smiling, then laughing. She is running in those fields of gold, running and running towards the day, endless fields of green on the horizon, brown hills and blue streams to cross. She does not have work to do, she is free from that, no sheep to worry about, no people or dogs to contend with, just magical legs that never get weary or touch the ground, and a heart that never tires. The burrs never stick in her coat, and the thorns and brambles never  catch. She is never thirsty or dry. She has left all of that behind. Her tongue does not get long or hang from her mouth, the wind is always at her back, and is cool and powerful.

Rosie, I sometimes say, where are you? Are you good?  This is what I wish for you, to set you free, to let you go. No bridges to cross, no eternal bond to me, but to always be running towards the morning. And today she answered me, I am so happy, I am so good. I wish the same for you.

21 December

Spiritual Path. Stories of Sparkle and Light

by m2admin
Spiritual Path. Christmas

 

Almost every day, I am called on to make some spiritual decisions about my life.

Death can be about medicine and suffering, or it be about the nature of life. Health can be about pills and doctors or procedures, or it can be a more spiritual process that involves peace, faith.  Aging can be about loss and medications, or it can be a profoundly humbling, beautiful way of life. The spiritual way is a different way to look at things, an isolating way, never more so than at Christmas, when we are nearly overwhelmed by messages about gifts, bargains, news, ads,  and so many overwhelming ideas about what Christmas means.

Most of us know what Christmas means, yet it sometimes feels you have to crawl into a hole by yourself to find it or remember it. We are taught to see life as a form of combat, a struggle and the inevitable phases of life as sorrows. We are taught to tell sad stories and swim in a sea of complaints.  The government. Wall Street. The weather. The prices of gas. The price of good. The global economy. Congress. Them. What they are doing to us. These laments are everywhere, and if you don’t share them or listen to them, it is sometimes true that you feel alone and disconnected. What is wrong with me? Why do I see the world so differently that the great chorus of voices around me?

A spiritual life is very unnatural for me, and yet as I try to live more deeply within a spiritual life, nothing has ever seemed more comfortable. I think for me the choice is simple. I can watch the news, or I can look for the joy, color, love and wonder that is everywhere. I can age their way,  downsize and take my pills, and shrink my expectations for life into a thimble,  or I can set out to find love and meaning. I can buy diapers or I can have sex.  I can complain about publishing, or I can answer the creative spark and tell my stories, any way I can. I can squawk about technology and Facebook or I can understand it and use both to advance my work and tell my stories.

For me, the spiritual path is not about lamenting life, but seeking to understand what it means. I sometimes succeed, and I often fail, but it is very true, I think, what they say. It isn’t about where you end up, but how you make the trip. I am on the way.

Christmas for me is a time of celebration, connection, and renewal.  I hear stories of sparkle and light. My head is filled with sweet memories and bright hopes for the future. I wish everyone I see and all of you a happy holiday, and and every grateful smile back is a sweet breath, into my lungs and all the way down to my heart.

21 December

Christmas Spirit: Farm Notes, Writer Notes, Brays (video)

by m2admin
Christmas Spirit: Farm Notes

 

Farm Notes: I’ll be posting today and tomorrow, then the blog will be down from Friday through Monday morning.  Next year we are determined to spend Christmas at the farm, with the animals. More on the Christmas Plot later. Heading to Brooklyn. No computer, my main camera is in the shop, needs a cleaning. I have a back-up, but it is big, clunky, and I don’t want to bring it. So I will not have a camera either. Good for me, I think.

Books: People are still calling and e-mailing the Battenkill Bookstore for signed copies of “Going Home,” “Rose In A Storm,” and other books of mine and other people, especially Jenna Woginrich’s red-hot “Barnheart.” We are way passed the 1,000 mark and many places are temporarily out of “Rose In A Storm,” a book many people are buying in honor of Rosie. They are exhausted at Battenkill, but Connie says orders are welcome: 518 677-2515 or e-mail her at [email protected]. Connie and Marilyn and their small but very competent staff are amazing. They have processed more hardcover books this week than many a chain store.

Blog: The new Bedlamfarm.com site is nearly finished, and I love it very much. The people at Mannix have done a brilliant job. One new feature is the “Blogs I Love” page which will feature standing links to blogs that speak to creativity, individuality and the civil advancement of ideas. Should be up right after New Year’s, if not sooner.

Christmas Plot. I have still kept Maria at bay over the Christmas gift. I’ve shown her some blog posts and told her I’m shutting down for the holidays. Tomorrow, I’ll share what I got her. She is busy, thinking of Christmas, selling lots of pillows and potholders, so I might pull it off.

Oops. She just read the blog about the Christmas Plot.

Here are some brays from Simon. Have a video of the Bedlam Farm Barn Fairy to put up.

 

21 December

After Rose: Dogs and Grieving

by m2admin
Do dogs grieve?

It has been my lot as a writer about dogs and other animals to often be telling people things they do not wish to hear or agree with. I’d perhaps be a lot richer if I stopped doing this, but like the scorpion said to the frog, it’s just my nature. On the book tour for “Going Home,” nothing I said was more controversial or shocking to animal lovers than my skepticism about whether animals grieve for one another like humans. When I said I did not see human-like grieving in my dogs, one woman walked out of the reading. In rebuttal and shock, I heard stories of birds, elephants, of course and dogs and cats and swans pining away for one another. Since it is never clear to me how to separate emotional from behavioral and instinctive responses in animals, this just is not as clear-cut for me as it is for some.

Personally, I have never witnessed grieving in any animal I have ever seen and dogs, donkeys, chicken,  sheep and goats have all died here. But then, no dog of mine has ever experience separation anxiety either, another epidemic and human-projected emotional problem put into dog’s heads, usually at great expensive (Prozac  mostly). I have seen animals distracted, rattled, confused and anxious when an animal disappears, but if you look at the overall history of animals, and dogs in particular, from Katrina to the millions of dogs re-homed, I believe the most remarkable quality of animals like dogs is their adaptability. Of the ten to 12 million dogs moved from one home to another each year, it seems the overwhelming majority get on with their lives, looking for food and attachment. This is, I believe, the real nature of real animals, not the Disney ones.

Many people have lots of anecdotes to support their belief that animals grieve, and I accept those stories. One man on the tour told me it was an absolute fact that his dogs grieved for one another. Good for you, I said. Get an agent, write a book and make some real money.

I know many people do not believe that it is not clear that animals grieve as humans do, and many more do not wish to believe it, and that is fair enough. Behaviorists will tell you that those elephants could just as well be acting out of instinct when they search for their lot mates as human-style emotion. We all believe what we need to believe, including me.  Dogs and humans dance together, and it’s tougher and tougher to separate or stuff from theirs. If you are anxious about leaving your dog in the house, the odds are good he will be anxious about your going. I suspect we will never know the absolute truth for sure. And I never am certain that I am right,  just a seeker gathering information.

Rose died nearly two weeks ago, and I have seen no sign of grief, morning or sadness in the other dogs. Things have changed. Pack animals are always affected by the arrival or departure of the pack. Things are quieter. Frieda and Rose never got completely comfortable with one another – two dominant females unwilling to give much ground. I thought Izzy would react if anyone would, as he and Rose were inseparable, in the farmhouse and on walks. I think Frieda is visibly calmer, more relaxed in the house. Izzy was needier for a day or so, coming around more frequently for attention. And there was more time to give it to him, also. I noticed no difference of any kind in Lenore.

It is easier having three dogs than four. Three is a good number for me. I am spending more time Training Frieda. Feeding is simpler, quicker. Rose was a finicky eater, always watching Frieda’s bowl. Dogs are always reacting to one another, usually in ways we don’t see or grasp. So there is the sense of things being somewhat easier and more fluid. The dogs have never missed a meal, refused a treat, missed a chance to chance a ball,  or failed to hop up and run to the door for a walk.

The rituals and experiences of grief are personal and individual. Everyone experiences them differently. So far, I have seen no evidence of any kind to suggest Lenore, Izzy and Frieda are grieving for Rose. If that changes, I will be honest and happily share it with you. I do not cling to invested positions or get upset with people who disagree with me. If I need to change, I will change.

21 December

Media and Politics: The Rooster Amendment. Ban Them

by m2admin
The Rooster Syndrome

 

Living with animals can alter your view of the world. I’ve had three Roosters – Winston I, II, and III, and I have had to shoot the last two, eventually coming to realize  that the first one was a rare thing, the gentle, sensitive male who didn’t like to posture, strut or fight. It was the last two that were normal.  Roosters do tend to strut, posture, and given a chance, prefer to bully and fight.

They can have all of the food they want or need for free, but they would rather take it from the hens and attack them in the process just to show who is boss. There are some sweet roosters, as there are many sweet men, but it isn’t something you can expect or count on. I’ve learned my lesson. No more roosters.

I think of this whenever the news pops up, or on those occasions when I succumb to fear or spiritual confusion and go look at it. Bad news is addictive, to various degrees, and I think it just depends on how bad a habit one has. I am getting clear of it.  In the past few days some of my friends have grown increasingly upset with the news from Washington, another standoff and so I looked at Google News and tried to figure out what was happening.

Mostly, what I thought was this: my roosters have been reincarnated in some way and have come to dominate what we call politics and leadership. On the farm I learned about the Rooster Syndrome. You puff yourself up, make a lot of noise, try to out crow the other guy, and stand your ground, refusing to give an inch, even in your own welfare and then you make war, relentlessly, destructively, and at every opportunity. This is the essence of Roosterdom, and I was just blown away by how similiar this is to being in Congress. Or investment banking, for that matter. You did not see many women buying and selling subprime mortgages, according to Michael Lewis’s great new book “Boomerang.” The financial collapse was a male idea – greed, aggression, indifference.

I am not politically correct by any means, and I really dislike politics, but I also have to be honest. We need to get these guys out of there and get some more women in Congress. Does anyone doubt they would work it out?

Then we would have what I call the Hen Ethic. Peace, hard work, daily productivity, and a strong penchant for getting along, working together, and living easily with one another. My hens do not puff themselves up, crow, make much noise, refuse to give ground or share. They do not make war. Ever.  You can draw your own conclusions from this.

I gave up the Rooster Syndrome myself years ago, doesn’t work for me. I just get knocked on my ass quickly and trashed. Some years ago, I looked up and noticed that everyone I worked for – my agent, editors, publisher, bookkeeper, former girlfriend – was a woman, and I haven’t had a fight or been bloodied in years. We seem to work things out, mostly because I do what they tell me. And things seem to work out.

I think a Constitutional Amendment is a good idea. Men would not again be entrusted with important decisions in my Republic. Back to the workshop and garage for them, and they can come out when babies are needed. I’d call it the Rooster Amendment.

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