Like most of you, I sometimes look out at the world beyond my precious little farm and wonder if it has gone mad, or if I have. The world often seems angry and irrational to me pointlessly cruel and hopelessly divided.
For most of my life, I thought I was insane, and then I began to understand that those who think they are insane are usually the only ones who are really sane, and this is a revelation I am still processing, it seems both self-serving and profound to me.
The wise person, in my mind, knows the worst things about themselves. The truly insane person can’t acknowledge the worst things about themselves or see them in others.
Erich Fromm, the great psychologist and philosopher wrote in his landmark book “The Sane Society,” that the mentally health person is the productive and un-alienated person; the one who relates himself to the world lovingly, and who uses reason to grasp reality objectively, rather than ideologically or through dogma.
The sane person experiences himself as a unique and individual entity, and at the same time feels one with his fellow-man; who is not subject to irrational authority, and accepts willingly the rational authority of conscience and reason.
The sane person is in the process of being born again and again as long as he or she is alive, he is never done learning, growing, doubting or changing.
The mentally health person considers the gift of life to be the most precious chance he has in his time on the earth, and is grateful for it.
As I real through this utterly rational list, I see I am getting closer to sanity. I see myself as unique and individual, and i accept what is different and special about me, even it if is not pleasant to me or others.
Increasingly, I relate to the world lovingly, and see my role, as the Dalai Lama, Gandhi and Christ suggested, as caring for others as much as for myself, or as a way of caring for myself. I do not always feel at one with my fellow man, quite the opposite, yet I feel connected to the idea of community and humanity, and perhaps that is the same thing.
I am not subject to irrational authority, not yet, and I have always accepted the rational, rather than ideological authority of conscience, morality as I see it, and reason as I understand it. Like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I have always believed that we are not born once, but that life requires us to give birth to ourselves again and again.
I consider the gift of life to be sacred, beyond precious, I give thanks for it every day, no matter what the day brings. To be alive does not mean to always be happy or fulfilled, it means to hope and strive and create and grow and feel.
I think one thing that unites me to most of humanity is our almost universal striving for health, mental and physical, for happiness, harmony, community, love and productiveness. I know very few people who don’t want those things for themselves, as I want them for me. In that way, I feel connected to the world.
Am I mentally healthy? Honestly, I don’t know. It is a direction in which I seek to go, every day of my life. In one way, the path to sanity for me is knowing I’ll never quite get there.
Ed Gulley is selling some of his sketches, they each cost $100 and will go the first person to e-mail me and ask for them. If you are first, I’ll write back to you and give payment instructions. So far, Ed has earned $600 for his sketches.
Let me know if you are interested, thanks. More coming later. These sketches are an important part of Ed’s experience with brain cancer. They are keeping him focused and creative and engaged.
As Ed loses control of much of his body, sketching is one thing he can do with his right arm. He looks forward to it each day.
Carol Johnson of Friends of Homeless Animals/RI and I are becoming good friends, but she is not cutting me a bit of slack.
This morning, I had to send off photos of the dog run and the farm and the inside of the farmhouse, so the group can make sure there are no obstacles or big holes in our fence.
Fortunately, our fences were built to contain sheep and donkeys, and there are no holes much of anywhere.
I think this is the final hurdle, I’ve bought houses more easily than this.
Carol also called to warm me of the dangers to dogs from Xylitol, an chemical used in artificial sweeteners and some peanut butter. I assured Carol this is an organic household but I told her I would be vigilant about the Xylitol. You know how much I love warnings. For the love of a dog, we grow and change…
She also has taken paints to point out all of the reasons rescue groups are so pick and demanding. I told her I understand, but I remain concerned that it is getting impossible for the poor and the elderly to rescue and adopt dogs, and that is shame for them and for dogs.
I like this group, they manage to be efficient, compassionate and hard-assed all at once. I would recommend them to anyone looking to rescue a dog. They ought not to be casual about where their dogs go, they work very hard to rehabilitate them.
I learned some things about Bud this morning.
Bud is not afraid of fireworks, they were loud and long in Arkansas last night, he didn’t flinch. That’s a good sign, grounded dogs usually can handle loud noises.
He is sweet, but not terribly cuddly. He loves to sleep in the middle of the bed, as many Boston Terriers do.
He does not want to go outside much in the heat (it was 110 degrees in Arkansas yesterday.)
He is mostly housebroken, but was trained on what they call a “pee-pad” something used in apartments mostly in cities to get dogs to pee inside. I’m sure we can get past that easily. Bud will be in a crate for some hours of the day for the first few days until he is safe and acclimated.
He was terrified of men at first, but that seems to be easing up, he has no fear of the men at the vet.
Bud is sick, he has heartworm, so it’s not clear just how much energy or curiosity he really has. He will be affected by the farm, and certainly by Fate, a high energy dog who loves to play.
She will crank him up some. We are a high energy place, border collies have lived here for years.
I have a hunch Bud will evolve over time here at the farm, but we have no problems with a mellow dog. Good company for a writer or an artist. I think Gus is looking for a good place to land. He has that old soul look, even for a young dog.
I also know Bud loves to play, Carol mostly has small foster dogs, Bud likes to groom one of them.
The other news is that Carol thinks Bud will be ready to come North in about six weeks, once his heartworm is cleared up. That should bring him here by the end of August, and well before out October Open House on Columbus Day Weekend.
Carol is good at keeping me informed, and I sent her a bunch of books this morning. It is fun to talk with her. More later.
“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” – Matthew 25:35.
Shopping at Wal-Mart yesterday with Ali and Lisa and Mudasir and Baseer, I felt in many ways that the refugees define me. I feel they define the true soul and spirit of our country as well.
I am close to the refugee experience, my grandparents were all refugees and I saw the devastating consequences of leaving home, family, and all of one’s possessions to enter a whole new world.
Refugees by definition have lost everything.
My grandparents did it for their children, as Lisa did it for hers. After her husband was killing for helping the Americans, she said she could no longer bear raising her children in such a violent and dangerous culture, she and her boys were targets also.
I saw the refugee mentality close-up, in my grandparents, in my relatives and neighbors. I see it every week in Albany. Work hard, be brave, never give the pursuit of a better life for children or for the American dream.
Our county was built and continues to prosper off of the sweat and blood and backs of immigrants and refugees. They come to us seeking asylum, dignity, freed and a chance just to breathe and live.
Do we really wish to become a country that slams its doors and refuses to let them in, or turns our back son them when they most need our help?
I don’t want to live in that country.
I recognize myself in those who are not like me and not like you. I see myself reflected in the struggles of those who flee the mouths of sharks. Every time I help another, I help myself.
Lisa did not know, of course, that she and her sons would be walking into a firestorm of a different culture by coming to America, culturally violent and divisive in its own way. She is bewildered by the raging controversy about refugees and their place.
She does not understand it or know what to say about it, or the harassment and taunting felt by her sons.
You either feel for the refugees or you don’t, I suppose it is as simple as that. No one can be argued into compassion.
I see myself in her and I see the person I wish to be, and am proud to be. Nothing is more selfish than helping someone else, nothing feels better. I do it for me, for my grandmother, for the refugees of the world, too numerous for me to even think of helping.
One at a time. One day at a time. One family at a time.
Lisa has some money now for personal things. Her sons have new clothes and toys now so they don’t look so different from their classmates. Soon, she will be moving to a safe and clean apartment. In a month or so, she will have completed her English language training, she is speaking English haltingly but well.
She will then be able to look for work and find a good job. We will help her. She is very close.
I don’t argue the plight of the refugees with others. I can only say how I feel and do what I can. When this madness is over, and it will one day be over, I want it to be said that I did what i could for as long as I could.
You either empathize with these people or you don’t. I consider my own humanity to be at stake. I am sorry to see our country turn so selfish and cold.
Every political or spiritual leader I have ever followed or admired described caring for the poor and the vulnerable as a sacred act, a test of our humanity, of our faith and self-respect.
“When a foreigner resides among you in your land,” says Leviticus 19:33-34, “do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself…”
My friend Ali knows this. His faith is not just evoked, it is lived.
I see the sadness and struggle in Lisa’s face, she is a sweet and shy woman, used to a culture that embraced a certain life for women. She was protected all of the time.
That culture is gone, and she is in a very different space now, she is awakening to the very American call of feminism and independence, she misses her husband dearly but is rising up to find a her place in this new world. She is happy to be here, she appreciates being free. She accepts the challenge of living here and never, ever complains.
I see the courage and sacrifice in her through the eyes and faces of her sons, they are strong, loving, content. She has done a wonderful job with them, I cannot really even imagine the toll on her, I see it in her eyes.
The great challenge in Lisa’s life now is poverty. She was not poor in Afghanistan, she is poor now. She lost everything to make this great leap. This is the help she needs until she can organize herself, finish her English language training, find work and a safe place to live for she and her sons. Not a lot of money, but enough money every month so she can go forward and build her life.
I am committed, along with Ali, to guiding her on the path to independence. In America, poverty is a brutal cycle of need, fear and struggle. We do not have enough money to erase her poverty, or to support her life, only to hold her hand, bring some light and ease to her life and the life of her sons. To begin life anew, for just a few hundred dollars a month, and then, just until September.
Next week, back to Wal-Mart to spend the other $400 we raised for her last week, and thanks for that.
If you wish, you can help us get her to the open field, you can contribute to her by sending a donation to the Gus Fund, Jon Katz. P.O. Box 205, Cambridge N.Y., or via Paypal, [email protected]. You can mark it “LIsa” if you wish.
We will stand with her and her sons and do whatever we can to life Lisa up until she can care for herself. She has no wish to be dependent on anyone. She is close.
I’ve sometimes been critical of rescue groups and the way many exclude people who would love to adopt a dog, but don’t meet the increasingly arbitrary and difficult standards so many groups are setting. i do understand the need to protect vulnerable animals from often irresponsible, cruel and even dishonest people.
But do I really need to explain to a stranger online where my dogs are precisely when company comes? Or agree with the provably false idea that dogs like Boston Terriers should never be adopted by people with children?
Having said all that, I should say in fairness that I found an animal rescue organization that I appreciate and respect, I felt that while their application was long and sometimes irritating, Friends Of Homeless Animals/RI were thorough but also simple and human to deal with.
They are careful about where their dogs go. And they are conscious of cost. They are impressive.
There is a $200 application fee, but they will transport Bud free of charge all the way from Arkansas to somewhere in the Northeast near me. They are also treating his heartworm themselves and at no charge to me (I will donate more money to them.)
They answered my phone call on the first ring, and were available to answer all of the questions I had about Bud. They were not frantic or rushed. They could dish it out, but also take it.
If they were thorough about me, I was thorough about them. I like to know a lot about the dogs I bring into my life. Carol Johnson was easy to talk with, honest and forthcoming, and unyielding in her desire to make sure I could give Bud a good home.
She has also been nice enough to send me some photos of Bud. I explained the blog to her, and I said my dos were not only my dogs, they belong to a lot of people. She would be able to keep an eye on Bud almost every day.
Carol was frank about his fear of men and his sad history of neglect, sickness and abandonment. She is fostering him herself. There will be few, if any, surprises with Gus.
She was on the phone right away with my vet and her staff and the references I had to give, and she decided I was all right for Bud. It was clear I was not getting approved until she had talked to quite a few people in my life.
I was approved.
I have rescued a number of dogs and other animal, I’ve only once gotten a dog who lives so far away, and who I will not have a chance to see before he is shipped north sometime this summer when he is cured of heartworm. I guess Red is the closest in experience to that, although Dr. Karen Thompson sent me a slew of videos of Red working over some months, and I felt as if I knew him.
That worked out wonderfully. There are lots of good ways to get a dog.
Bud is sick and he will need some further rest and care. When he arrives, he’ll go right to our vet, and we’ll work out a thorough recovery and support plan. I’ll let him get used to me and will evaluate him over the first few days. He is find out soon enough, as all animals do, that is a lucky thing to be in a house with Maria, animals love her intuitively.
I’m glad it will be a month or so before he comes to us, this is a particularly busy time for Maria and I and we can now make sure he has out full attention when he is here.
Our dogs are almost never alone, and when we have to leave or want to go away, we hire Nicole, our vet tech, to come and stay at our house (something i had to explain in my questionnaire in great detail. If he wants to, Bud can ride along with us during our many trips to town each day.
Carol Johnson was patient with all of my grumbling, and to be honest, it wasn’t all that much trouble in exchange for the dog we are getting. I’m no better than anyone else.
I take stewardship of animals very seriously, and he will be well cared for. He will also perhaps be famous, as Red is and Gus and Frieda were and Fate is. My dogs have a lot of surrogate caretakers.
I’ve been looking at the photos Carol has been sending me of Bud, trying to guess what he is like, and how he might evolve. I try to give my dogs the opportunity to live the life they were meant to live, but every dog is different.
I know from Carol that he is a sweet dog, I can see that in his face. I think I can also see he is a sick dog, he doesn’t look vial or strong to me in his photos, especially for a one-year-old. My guess is that he is a laid back dog. A good thing, with two border collies in the house. There are lots of strong personalities around here, people and animal. Dogs generally have a lot of fun at Bedlam Farm.
Bud has soft eyes and his ears are always down in his photos, I suspect he is anxious and careful. I am impressed that he was fearful of men when he came to Carol, if you look at the news, that is just common sense.
I’m not worried about his anxiety around men, if I could train Frieda, I think I will be able to handle Bud. But I don’t want to be cocky. It takes some work.
The task is to be patient and consistent and loving. And to to have good and healthy treats around.
Training wary and beat-up dogs is something of a specialty of mine, I have learned a lot about it, even written a book or two about it (Second Chance Dog). We will give Bud time to acclimate, safe spaces to hang out in, lots of affection and clarity.
Bits of beef jerky go a long way to help a dog like a human. But I won’t ask for much, at least not at first. He doesn’t look as imperious as Gus, but that might change. it usually does around here. I love to do what I call calming training, I will share the experience.
And I will not call Bud a rescue dog or an abused dog. Dogs don’t use labels like that, and don’t need them. Humans do. Bud is a dog, period.
We’re not sure if we will let Bud near the farm animals or not, we’ll have to see. Gus loved them, Bud might not. We won’t push it on him.
We will take him with us when we drive into town and socialize him slowly. When I look at his soft eyes and relaxed demeanor, at least in this photo, I think I might see if he can do therapy work. Gus, an active and charismatic dog, would hardly sit still for photos like Bud is doing on Carol’s sofa in Arkansas.
I can see Bud sitting happily with Maria in her studio and with me in my study. We have nice sofas. The dogs are not permitted on them, Gus didn’t care.
I sense that Bud is a dog who has had enough trouble and is looking for some peace and quiet.
It will be interesting to compare my idea of him to the reality when he comes. I am fond of sticking my neck out, and happy to be wrong. That’s how I learn.
