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but before that
such a soft morning
snowbunny is making a dirt nest.
in mindlessness, i patched a hole in my favorite "uniform".
in the pic above this, my toes are swollen because of being bit by ants in the Old Cowboys driveway.
Here we go. August. 2015.
it was brought to my attention that the Old Cowboy's endlife stuff might be Private. So I thought about all that, all day as i was there AGAIN all day....and i thought about how he so easily tells his story to anyone at all that is willing to listen
all of Us, no matter where we are on the continuum, are dealing with or going to deal with END LIFE stuff. if we have partners, someone is going to go first. Parents, they will go first. so...All of Us. and sometime it will be US that is in the going line. Why should this be private? I think.
This is August. Last year. How similar to this present cloth. August. The month, for me, since childhood of birth/death/birth/death/birth\/
today we got a hospital bed delivered. It's IN PLACE in the livingroom. Today we got Eddie, who will spend nights. Keep track of stuff when it all goes into disarray. Already, we love Eddie.
I love Eddie so much because he means that i can sit on the porch in the evening or i can go out and sing to the Goats in the evening or i can hold Tay close in the evening and talk to her in the nonsense language that she likes and understands.
Old Cowboy will love Eddie because he is there. When the gremlins come, Eddie will be there.
It's just how it is.
Evenings into nights are delusional now. Somehow halfway through his livingroom, his house transforms into his childhood home in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. a two story farm house, where in the last three years of his mother's life, they struggled. Him and her. She would go up and down the stairs dragging her tangled oxygen tubing, getting stuck, calling him. He says it was Hell. And here he finds himself. It begins somehow halfway through his livinging room then on through a short hall way past the bathroom and into his bedroom on the left. But somehow it becomes "Upstairs" where he has a cot. He called late this afternoon because he had " torn the bedroom apart because there were "things" running around. That there were 3 oxygen "hoses" and they were knotted and crushed." When i got there, his bedroom was just fine. The bed hardly looked slept in since i made it yesterday. His oxygen tubing was fine, just lying on the livingroom floor. So. I tried not to go today, tried to stay home. Made it till about 4:30 give or take. So we talked and kind of agreed, as much as he can absorb and agree. I hauled the cushions etc off his couch and got the neighbor to help me haul it to the garage. Vacuumed the floor. Tomorrow or the next day Hospice will bring a hospital bed and put it in the livingroom where the couch was. This Might help. Not so far to go. Not "upstairs", but just across from the diningroom table where he spends his day. Next to his TV. The door to the bathroom in sight. Maybe this smaller world will seem more navigable to him. We'll see. Try it. And if not, will hire a night person which he DOES NOT WANT. This however, is not working. OK.
Just before he called to tell me about all the chaos, i'd been standing at the screen door, looking out, thinking. Thinking that this is all way more than i'd bargained for and suddenly i actually looked
double click this
Looking back...directly and without blinking.....Wild Sunflower...and i thought OK.
Just a little over a month ago, this pic.
Today, we went to the bank. A constant thread has been....What IF? " what if I "loose it" and can't. Who will pay the bills?" A year now, he worries. We say yes, ok, we need to go to the bank.
Today, we did. Neither of us was confident he would make it. He is not doing well at all, losing ground it seems, by the day. So we knew it was now or never. It was hard. He was afraid. Actually, i was afraid. But we DID it. We went. We got the Power of Attorney done. DONE. We made it back home.
once he was back home, the "bank clothes" taken off, the oxygen back on, sitting in his chair, his beloved chair, he asked " If you can, will you help me?" He meant, dying. Going Through. Just Going. I said yes. He asked "what if you are not here?" I said....then wait for me. It takes 15 minutes. I'll get there. it was tender. Tender. is Tender a kind of love then?
if i'd not made this deal with my Self, i would have skipped today. But i did make this deal with my Self and so, at the end of it, i had to Place mySelf in it, in the last of it and so to do that i caressed Nogal's face as i filled his water bowl. He gets all dreamy, his eyes gazing into mine. Goats are into eye contact. Goats, Dogs. Tazmeena. We look loooong into each other's eyes, go Inside each other this way.
grasses begin to seed in earnest
Chicharra in Spanish. they SOUND now. Steady, from dusk into the darkness. Where i'm FROM, they Sound in the day, but here, evening into dark. I love it. Their Sound. It says "stuff is as it should be. Stuff is OK."'
this morning, there was
no cloth
i touched the baskets and up rose this patterned background....it was a dress. Just pieces of it now. But they "talk". Ok. and through the day i put stuff there, trying to use my Mind to begin something, but it wasn't working. And so i thought...Ok, Sand Play. So i just put stuff. Like a child might in the Sand Tray. Not needing it to "become something", but just to put it. For the moment. Not for any time more.
Ginger and her daughter Cinderella...Gideon is Cinderella's father. Cinderella is SunnyRay's sister.
Scurs. Disbudding done by the vet. NOT. So, Cinderella has these uh, substantial scurs but also ones that do not curve into the skull. So, are not well, attractive, but also are not threatening to her well being. If i were a dairy goat woman for real, i would breed Cinderella. Ginger and Gideon as sire and dam fortell a Great Milking Goat and she is gentle and willing for all things. She would not only make a great milker but would kid excellently. I would breed her with Nogal.
But i am not a real dairy goat woman.
Jan the dog trainer who has Goats has been talking about banding scurs. There's opinions on both sides. But with Cinderella, they are ok. She's not at all interested in using them as Horns for taking Place in the herd. They, as i said, are not threatening to her well being. So...they just are. She wouldn't win a beauty contest, but then neither would i. Her mother, Ginger, is my daughter's Favorite Goat.
Goats have reasons for things. Who can know. There are 5 feed tubs for the doe Goats Out There. The first is at the gate where i dump it all from the stash in the Albatros. Then i go through the house and out the Back Door (where the Praying Mantis was yesterday) and divide it up into the other 4 tubs kind of evenly. Some days, everyone spreads out evenly too, but today....
Have been watching Snowbunny. and Part of it is that she is getting old, but i think part of it too is that it's hot and she is just Wise and Conserving energy. She chose this bowl/tub.
she just lays there, eating the feed around her until she's full then gets out. I nod and think this is smart and maybe what i might do if i lived with a lot of younger pushy women.
Wendy Golden Levitt sent this today. Sand Play. you can google and there's a lot about it but look for C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles...What is Sand Play Therapy. A good overview. Sand Play was developed by Swiss Jungian Analyst Dora Kalff. Wendy does this with her kids. In the pic, you can see what happened with the Dog Cloth i sent.
this is the cloth. I was unsure about sending it. Maybe it was too uhhhh, Fierce? looking???? But i know Tay and she is fierce looking and IS fierce in her way, but she is also so many other things, more and more as she grows older. So i took the chance. Trusting that Wendy's children would be same as me and Need Fierce
see the baby crawling to the Dog?
this, untitled, is finished and in the shop.
I am GrateFULL for this day.
heading out to the Way Back with the bucket of pellets, i am about to open the door and i stop...turn my head and look up
above my head...maybe about 2 ft above my head and only a shape because of the brilliant SUN light, a shape. THE shape. I did not see it, i couldn't have. My eyes are at about just over mid door height and i look at the door knob on approach. So i didn't see it, but the Brain did. I LOVE when this happens, when the brain, the biological magician performs these feats of magic knowing.
So open the door slightly and with my hand, scoot him out....would have taken time but They were waiting for the pellets...loud and rowdy so i scooted him out and lightly wedged the door, distributed the pellets and came back and
yes, oh, yes and eeeeeee the soft and oh so loving kind. This is the first this year i've seen. Maybe just a little over an inch long so not too young already.
how they are so NOT shy, coming toward the camera lense
had all the Goats not been there, i would have offered a hand and maybe could have gotten a close pic, but the Goats were, and they immediately were wondering what i was doing and gathering, so I gave Thanks. I gave the deepest Thanks to this Being for first coming in the house, and then, waiting for me
Back before i had a screen door in the front door, when the light would be on in the late evening, almost always one would come in. Then the table was where the Morning chair is, a light, books, papers on the table about 15 ft from the door and they would come directly to the table, light there and then
Look
around. Walking so slowly, so curiously over the books and papers, around the cup, finding some good place to
Look at me.
The intelligence of them is so KIN. I don't know how to speak of how much i love them. So, today was a day of Celebration. Praying Mantis. Praying Mantis....I love you.
OOna, looking back
Thought about how maybe taking pics of Goats everyday might be like almost some kind of Remedy, like a Bach Flower Remedy. So i'll try it.
Jan the Dog Trainer's second Goat, Joey kidded...another buck and doeling. This the buckling. So i will choose between the one from a few days ago and this one that she referred to as really "flashy". Tenzen did well.
Moth Moon is finished and in the Shop.
i stand at the OtherSide of the Migrational Cooridor and YELL!....SNOW BUNNY! BUN BUN!
i yell...Bun Bun! and then...she comes...dear Eldest her, she comes because i yell for her
I wonder now what i would Ever do Without Them?
there was some only slightly veiled effort to change this on part of the Old Cowboy, but i clung. Clung to knowing that it's critical for me. I really need days strung together, uninterrupted, to gather momentum, to follow closely, a thread of thought or feeling or doing or if i'm lucky, all three. But i can't have that any more. So i at least need a single day, Full. From dawn to dusk. I NEED it.
It's great that the Findhorn book appeared in this moment. I am Needing some distraction from the tangle of my days right now, and since i am already familiar with it, but from so many years ago, it's perfect. I can look and think and see how things have changed for me in these years. I still, now, have the same trouble with some of the images....am not much still into gnomes and fairies. Am not much still much for some kind of sense of Supreme BEING, a God kind of being so the descriptors are still troublesome. But the essence of the Work remains so extremely Amazing, and there is no denying that it was and is REAL. Dorothy is the one who communicated with the Devas.
"Essentially, the devas are energy, they are life forces. (We humans are as well, only in our own unique way.) I was told in guidance,' You are simply surrounded by life. You are a life force moving along with other life forces. As you recognize this, you open up and draw near to these others, becoming more and more one with them, [working together for My purposes']."
so this is what i came away with in those years ago, knowing from my childhood life that this was True . And all along, i know from living that this is True. But i have never been able to find a Form that works for me. The closest being North American First Peoples cosmology. and more recently, that work of Stephen Harrod Buhner...Plant Intelligence and the Imaginal Realm.
the Beauty of Cabbage....the elegant fierceness of Cabbage
need to double click to see the important things, one of which is the irridescent metalic insect being, only one of all the very critical things happening here, the letting go and the still becoming
hard to see, but thread beads on Moon and drifting down as Blessing, and now She is stitched to her world
