Day: September 14, 2012

I sometimes think of my life  – as life – as a bobbling ball, tossed from an ocean liner on a vast and changing sea. I think of myself as bobbing along, engulfed by one wave, then another, then by winds, hot sun, roiling wakes, maybe bumped by a whale or two, or nosed by a dolphin. Sometimes the way is anger, sometimes fear, sometimes money, disappointment, disenchantment, by sore knees and angry people. But the bobbing ball always seems to pop up, too small to be overwhelmed by a big ship, too light to sink, too small and agile to be shattered by a giant wave or smashed by a huge fish.

There are moments of great calm, still waters, beauty and peace, but they are only part of the bobbling ball’s life, and they do not last very long, beset by storms, tides, moons, big ocean liners, schools of fish, heavy winds. I see other bobbling balls and I ask them if they have found the place that is always calm, always steady, always peaceful, and I feel they are laughing at me. There is no such place they say, no such life. Nothing is permanent, no peace lasts too long. There are only patches of calm, episodes of peace, it is never static, never still for long.

It rolls and bobs and rolls along, and then one day gets to shore. Crosses to safety. Finds its place. My challenge is to find my place, there are so many things that challenge it, so many waves that threaten it, so many hurt and wounded and damaged people stirring the waters. This is the spiritual life, isn’t it. To cherish the calm, find the beauty, keep the faith, stay k on top of the waves, to roll with them, to find my place.

Perhaps, when the bobbling ball finally rolls ashore, then it will find that soft spot in the sand, that safe place. But an old bobbling ball whispered to me once, far out at sea, that when this happened to him, a great storm blew in and swept him out to sea, and he began his journey all over again.

Rocky is figuring things out. At mid-day when the sun is strong and the flies oppressive, he makes his way into his stall, with or without Red. He avoids the pole out front now – we put a covering on it yesterday – and he gazes out at his pasture. In the evening, he wanders out and grazes and then makes his way back in the dark. He is adapting. He will be fine with the donkeys and sheep, I think he likes company, and is watching us all much more closely, coming to us much more easily.

I sense his curiousity is rising he seems more alert. He’s a character and I think he will have some fun, once the dust settles. Red didn’t hang around him so much today, and he seemed more confident. Saturday Maria and I will be at the Adirondack Museum in Blue Mountain Lake, N.Y. She is part of a fiber show and demonstration there from 10 to 4. I will bring the camera and be official hanger-on and lunch-getter. The blog will be quiet much of the day and I wish a peaceful and meaningful weekend for all of you.

The wood sides are going up on the Pole Barn Monday. Ben put up two boards on the left side – we were going to enclose that side, but I realized it wouldn’t give the animals enough in and out access and mucking out the barn would be a problem, especially in the winter. We need to get straight in and out with shovels, even a tractor. So Ben took the boards down. The sides will go up next week and also plastic on the left side in the upper section to let sun and light in. It faces the South. We couldn’t build a South facing barn as we would have wished, but this will let the light in.

I told Ben to go play gold this afternoon and he did. The barn comes out about 16 feet and is roughly 30 feet long. Good space for three donkeys, four sheep and a blind pony. A hay feeder will go out front and one will also be built on the back wall for bad weather. Ben’s next mission is to fix up Maria’s Studio Barn.

I’ve seen it a score of times, but it still mesmerizes me. Rocky pauses outside of the new barn, and he puts his nose down. Red sits down in front of the opening to the barn. Rocky comes up and puts his nose to Red, as if to locate him, and then Red moves forward, into the opening and Rocky comes up and noses him again, locates him, then carefully, with his head down, moves through the opening and into the stall. I don’t mean to suggest Red is being heroic, or that I even know what is happening – I don’t. It looks as if Red is guiding Rocky in, and that Rocky is using him as a guide.

These are my “Dancing Dogs,” and how lucky I am to have them. They help me join in the dance of life, of life. They teach me patience and acceptance. They brighten my days, and nights. They shape my work and my photography. I love each one of them very much. Smooch. They dance with me every day.