Month: March 2013

Florence Walrath loved her farm, but she lived to be more than 100 years old,and it was difficult for her to keep the farm the way she might have wished. It was always clean and well cared for, she and her family saw to that, but there were many things she never could get to. We are maintaining the farm in her spirit and style, but we are also bringing it back to life in a number of ways, and we have worked hard on this on this weekend. If you notice something different in the photo, the tires are gone. Ben Osterhaudt showed up today and we both decided to get rid of the tires and take them to the dump. Many people have been warning me about mosquitoes, West Nile virus and Encephalitis, among other things.

Some of you know the best way to get me to do something is to warn me against it, so I was determined to keep the tire stack, it was a kind of farm art to me. I did not consider it dangerous, but the space wanted to be opened up, the farm wanted to be opened up, so we loaded the tires – some of them quite heavy – onto Ben’s truck and we took them to the dump. We like the new look. We also drove to Mandy’s Nursery in Granville, N.Y. and bought two lilacs. We will honor Easter tomorrow by helping the farm return to vibrant life and we will plant the lilacs out in front of the house, where they will hopefully grow full and tall. We thank Walt Whitman for reminding us of the rich history and meaning of lilacs, especially around old farmhouses.

There is little that is more satisfying to Maria and I than bringing color and life to this farm.

As a story-teller, I have always recognized the power of the Christian story of the resurrection of Christ. It swept the emerging civilized world like no other story had ever done and altered the world’s cultural and religious history. The story gave hope and promise to an impoverished, brutal and primitive world. I am not a Christian, nor am I conventionally religious but I have always felt the power of this story and it has always touched and inspired my life. I have also experienced this very powerful passage of death and rebirth. A part of me died some years ago, and I was reborn, in my mind, resurrected.

I repeat my vows of rebirth often. At some part of many days, some part of every week I feel discouraged, defeated, worn by the complexities and challenges of life. I remind myself of the power of rebirth, of Garbriel Garcia  Marquez’s notion that we are not only reborn once, when our mothers give birth to us, but again and again as life demands. When I feel defeated, when I am worn down, when I am discouraged or feeling alone or frightened, I tell myself this is not the way life needs to be, this is not my life, this is not my story. I will be reborn, resurrected, again and again, for as long as I am privileged to have life.

I’ve devoted myself this weekend to the idea of resurrection, of coming back  to life after death and emptiness. This weekend, I devote myself to renewing my vows of the soul, reaffirming each day the promises I made to myself years ago, when I began this journey of change and discovery and meaning.  I believe in a life of faith and I understand that these vows must be renewed in the face of change, challenge, loss and frustration.

Every day, my faith in renewal is challenged by the nature of the world – money, disappointment, anger,  resentment, the violence and hatred that seems endemic to so many human beings. Each morning, I will renew my vows of the soul. I will seek love and be open to it, I will seek meaning in my life, and self-determination. I will value each day as the precious gift that it is. I am grateful each morning to the gift of the creative spark, and the focus it has given to my life. I vow to love myself, to appreciate my life and to believe in its meaning and value. And every day, I renew my vows to my partner, my love and ask if I am encouraging her, helping her, loving her in an open and full way.

Each morning, I renew my vows to take responsibility for my life, to respect my decisions, and to seek human connection and a life in the natural world. I don’t take these vows for granted, they require renewal every day of my life.

I don’t have the highest regard for men these days, they are drawn to violence, are perpetually arguing and blustering and telling women how to live their lives. Strut, however – he does a great deal of posturing and huffing – can be useful. He keeps the hens away from the road, circles them protectively and each evening, climbs on the rung to the roost and starts crowing, the call to end their long and industrious day. Strut hops up, clucks a bit and is the first in. The hens follow. We close the door and keep them safe. Strut is a bit of a preener, a tad pompous I think, but on the whole a useful kind of man.

I have an understanding with all of the animals on the farm. If they pose for photos, sit still for the camera, their lives will be filled with food, treats, fresh water and safe shelter. So far, so good. Every animal who comes her seems to figure this out – Red, Flo, and even the chickens, who suddenly love to gather for family portraits. Some of this is due to Strut, a diligent rooster who keeps everybody close and safe. I enjoyed taking this family portrait.