Month: December 2012

The All I Can Do Prayer:  How many mysteries have I seen in my lifetime? How many prayers?  It is never too late to learn a new prayer. One morning, when I was frightened, I found my All I Can Do prayer, buried, deep in my heart, hidden in the worn ruts of my mind.

And now,

When I am frightened,

I thank myself. I bless myself.

And ask myself:

Have I done all I can do?

When I feel overwhelmed by obligations,

tremble in fear and worry,

and discouraged by anger and conflict,

run and hide from the Other World Of Their News,

I pray: Have I done all I can do?

And if the answer is no, I do more.

And if the answer is yes, then I

smile at the stars, listen for my angels to sing to me, feel my

heavy heart lighten, and I draw

the cool and refreshing breath of peace,

and I let it go.

All I can do is enough.

It is all I can do,

the simplest of prayers, it just stops so short,

and is so true.

Have you done all you can do? I think so, friend.

Take my hand. Let life happen. Let life occur in its own sacred way,

on its own path.

Let it go. It is,

all you can do.

I stood in the Pole Barn this afternoon, watching the storm for a bit with Simon and the donkeys. The Pole Barn was dry, warm, cut off from the storm and wind and snow. I felt the importance in my heart of standing in truth, of finding my strength, of speaking in my true voice, long buried for all kinds of reasons.

Animals stand in their truth, they are not like us. They don’t deceive, posture, pose, seek vengeance. They are not greedy or calculating. That is where I am hoping to get. Hard and good work, every day.

We had a second storm Saturday, an afternoon storm and I visited the birds, chicken, Simon, the farm next door, the farmhouse down the road. Storms are a gift to me in several ways, they give the photographer in me a chance to connect with nature, something that is beautiful and healing for me. We are having some friends over for dinner. Tomorrow going to see the new Quentin Tarantino movie, over-the-top history, gore and drama. Album on Facebook.

Cats are different from dogs, for sure. I like this one. I asked my Facebook readers to help with names, and we got more than 300 responses. We chose “Florence,” or “Flo,” because we like the name and it is also a tribute to Florence Walrath, the owner of our home, another tough and independent spirit. Florence has been hiding out in the woodshed, we think, up in the rafters. I suspect this was a conspiracy between the cat and Maria, who I think have been communicating secretly. Maria denies it. But Flo came up to me this morning, sashaying right by Red and Lenore and demanded food and some scratching. She is smart, independent and affectionate.

She will do well her. She and Minnie seem to have worked things out – Minnie sleeps in the barn, Florence in the woodshed (we put a blanket up there last night for her.). It isn’t really up to us, I see. She’s staying. We will take her to the vet this week to make sure she is spayed, and if she isn’t, to spay her and get some shots. Another animal comes to the farm. We are sure she’s been hiding out here for weeks, she just chose to reveal herself during the storm. Thanks for the naming help. I think it’s important to think about getting another animal, it should be a reflex, at least for me.  It feels right.

We’ve been aware of her for a few weeks – paw prints on the ground and snow, shadows in the woodshed, quick sightings of her darting underneath the porch and across the pasture. Maria encountered her yesterday in the barn near Minnie and the cat came up to her. Today, she came into the barn again and we fed her – she was ravenous. She seems to be a seasoned barn cat, staying out of the road, keeping away from the dogs, watching us and figuring things out. She made a wise choice in approaching Maria, and she doesn’t like to be held – Mother was this way – but she purrs and likes to be touched and scratched. We have to figure out what to do with her. She seems to already be living here. First, we will take her to the vet to see if she has been spayed and is healthy. She does not have a name.