So many changes in so little time. Seems that once a year around the same time is my new pattern, for writing here. We lost our ancient cat, Phoebe (22 years old ) and our wonderful Apple, my Golden Retriever, this past year. I admit I am never good at saying goodbye. I love deep and hard. Both of them laid down in my lap, just weeks apart from each other, and left this world.
Each of my animal friends is a story, a wonderful part of our lives here. Phoebe was here all the way through every change. She was part of our life before I found my horses. She walked in to the house one day and “schooled” my dogs with one wack and that was that. She owned the place and made that very clear. They all slept together every night on the sofa or a pile of pillows in the corner, gently snoring and farting with contentment. And all of them brought laughter to our lives too, watched John and I move in to our sixties and then seventies. We all got old together.
Apple was my girl, always with me. I never moved in to a room without her next to me, or outside for chores. She was loyal and silly, loving and could never resist a dip in the pond Summer or Winter. She was glossy, beautiful both inside and out. And she left this world with the same grace that she entered our lives, with her eyes on me and her tail wagging to the end.
For a while it was hard to breathe. Loosing two best friends in a week was overwhelming. And then I began a search. Our Scout was bereft without his Apple. He could not figure out where she was, spent his time looking off down the road and waiting. He had never been apart from her. I needed to find a friend for Scout, a puppy to give us a challenge. Et voila! I found Sir Paddington, aka Paddi, aka Officer Paddi (said with a Scottish accent of course), or last but never least Paddywack.
His name came from his amazing resemblance to a bear. I found him on a Craigslist ad, with all of his brothers and sisters. He was all the way to the Ozarks and Missouri just outside a little town called Garden City, where the famous trials of Old Drum happened just after the Civil War. He even lived on a road called Old Drum, after a hunting dog. As we drove out to his birth home we passed the courthouse with a bronze of Old Drum in front and a road side stone and monument to Old Drum. So it was a given that our journey was epic.
We drove in terrible storms all the way there and back, hours of lightning, wind and rain. It rocked and rolled all day long. When we at last arrived, in our ancient truck, we had to take two detours to avoid floods. And it turns out that Paddington was born just down the road from the home of Old Drum. How prophetic is that?!
Paddington came straight to me, sat on my foot, and said, “ I knew you were coming. I waited. “ That’s the way it always is. My dogs call me and I go find them and bring them home. But he did that to John too, went over to him, wagged his tail, smiled and sat on his foot. Not one of the other puppies did that. They were all sweet but not very interested in us. Sir Paddington was, met us at the door and made it clear he was ready to go.
He slept in my arms all the way home, three hours of crossing flooded spill ways and driving in thunderstorms. He never once complained, just slept like he was relieved I’d found my way to him. He was on his way to his forever home and he was content.
Eulogy of the Dog
Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.
Gentlemen of the jury: A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.
I thought about naming Paddington Old Drum in honor of his neighboring ghost . Didn’t seem to fit. But he is an exceptional dog, of course as are all of the spectacular dogs we have in our lives. He is growing by leaps and bounds, in to his huge paws. He is part Great Pyrenees, part Anatolian Shepard, part Komondor and part Brindle Treeing Cur Dog, a breed well known in his part of Missouri. His coat is unlike any dog’s coat I’ve ever seen. It’s curling, soft and glossy with all the dog colors. He’s kind of like a dog rainbow, with black, grey, white, brown, red, and blond spots all over. He is surprisingly calm too. At his Vet check the entire staff had to come meet him, he was so easy going.
He still spends time sitting on one or the other of our feet. He called and we came to get him.
You’re waiting for me to talk about politics. This is my way of doing just that. I am an American. We live in the middle of the best country in the world. Our politics have been messed up during this entire administration and before that too. But we persevere with our dogs by our sides, and all of us willing to fight for what we believe in. Our Scout and Paddington are big, strong, loyal and willing. So are our horses. We stand our ground here. This is our hill.
It’s been more than a year since I posted here, but you can see that on the menu of posts. I’ve been writing in a journal made of handmade paper and leather for the binding, writing with a pen. How 20th century of me. Course, I’m from the mid 20th century, a true Boomer. We’ve mostly disconnected from anything internet, except for this BLOG. I’m on no social media platforms, except for LinkedIn. I couldn’t figure out how to get off of it so I left it as is. I doubt that I will come back to any social media either. As far as I can tell it’s still just as poisonous as ever.
No, not poisonous like a spider. This is just a garden spider living in my vegetable garden. I’ve been watching it drag it’s egg sack around for a few days now. I’m hoping I get to see how many baby spiders will come spilling out. Garden spiders are good for a garden. I always enjoy “meeting” them, love the pesky bugs and flies they catch.
We’re still living where we’ve been for 22 years now. The trees are older, taller, more mature. And some have fallen in storms, a normal process of nature. Every year the flowers change according to the weather patterns and rainfall. I never know what will come up.
This year it was Dames Rocket, a wild phlox. I didn’t plant those. They just showed up. Last year a doe gave birth in the garden. She and her fawn were there for more than a week, eventually ate everything growing there. After they left I mulched it and left it alone to wait for this year. And, voila, turns out our deer family left us a gift! It was absolutely stunning too. Every morning it was filled with humming birds, butterflies, bees of all kinds. What a wonderful way to say, “ Thank you !”. It’s developing seed pods now so I’m going to harvest most of them and pay them forward to friends and their gardens.
We work hard, sunup to sundown, and stop along the way to play too. We’re now growing more than 75% of our own food, canning, freezing and dehydrating the produce and processing our own ducks and chickens too. I won’t say I enjoy that part of it very much but it has given us more independence from a system that has repeatedly failed us several times over the past few years. The horses, ducks and chickens contribute to the composts which gets spread on to the gardens. Our horses are more friends now than working horses but I do still get up and ride occasionally, and play with them on the ground every day.
Our dogs guard us and the animals. The cats hunt the mice and rats, the ducks and chickens give us eggs. The flowers bring us great joy, the trees shade us. And there’s a never ending number of problems to solve, probably my favorite part. I do love a challenge.
I still help with the neighbor’s horses and other animals. I love to farm sit. It gives me all kinds of information about systems that work or don’t work as efficiently. It’s a never ending cycle of life in the present, not captured on little glass screens. Course the irony is that if you are reading this, you’re looking at it from a glass screen.
Last year we celebrated fifty years of marriage. I’m lucky. I married my best friend. If I have any advice to give young possible newly weds, it’s just exactly that. Marry your best friend. Forget those stupid Hollywood movies that whine about marrying your best friend. Laughter, crying together, working hard to support each other, genuinely committing to a life long partnership with a vow in front of friends and family is the best thing you can do for yourselves. The only thing that tops that is having your children. Ours live far away from us but we hear from them nearly everyday. When we celebrated our fifty years together they came in from all over along with friends and family.
I don’t know how often I’ll come back here. And I will be massively surprised if anyone finds this post. But if you are here, reading, please be kind to one another. Make sure you go outside, exercise, fresh air, sunshine are essential. Our Earth is a lovely place. Go out and enjoy it. Life goes by in an eye link of time. Eat organic food, stay away from junk food. Find a purpose in your life to focus on, something that keeps you motivated. Call the people you’ve been neglecting.
Have an adventure. Try something new. Stop watching the horrible, angry, violent and relentlessly stupid videos of people doing weird things. Laugh more. Read a good book. Turn off the TV. Dance, sing, tell a good story to someone you’ve just met. And smile more. You’d be surprised how smiling makes you feel better. And listen. When you stop and listen to the people around you, you learn a lot about who they really are.
I had considered not coming back to this BLOG. I am just a wee bit fed up with the political state of affairs in my backwoods area of Northeast Kansas. Most of my agricultural neighbors are, like myself and my family, on the conservative side. But I’ve spent a good part of my adult life identifying myself as a professional artist (which I have been ; interior design, gallery owner, photographer, master gardener and landscape design, illustrator and fine art in paint and pastels). That particular group of people have gone just a bit wacko, from my point of view. Although I never talked about my politics or religious beliefs to the vast majority of people, nor did I care about theirs, it seems that if I question any of the narrative presently in the “legacy news”, I am any of several derogatory categories : racist, white supremacist, mass murderer, bigot, etc etc etc.
But here I am anyway. BLOG SPOT you are stuck with me in all of my permutations. I’ve been writing in a journal, adding paper books to the stack of other journals I’ve kept over the years. There are eleven on my history with horses in the barn, a closet full on art in my studio and another closet full about my family in my bedroom. Guess I have something to say even if it is just for myself. Writing keeps me focused, prevents me from being self destructive
.
I could talk about my chosen pronouns. I identify as a species fluid, gender fluid, time traveling peacock, feathers and all. Presently I am in the process of molting as well as building a nest. It’s very trying as species fluid living goes. Typing with nothing but feathers to hit the keys is quite challenging. And the time traveling thing … well, you just don’t want to know about that part of things. I haven’t quite figured out how to control that. One moment in the 21st century living down Alice’s rabbit hole and the next it’s the late eighteenth century and I’m hanging ten with Benjamin Franklin. Back and forth, back and forth. I can tell you that after living nearly three centuries earlier people really should stop complaining. You have flush toilets, shampoo that smells good, showers and big screen TV’s. You also have the Constitution of the United States to protect your lawfully protected rights to practice your religion, vote for whomever you want to, and to verbally express yourself without censure. Life isn’t as bad as you think you want it to be.
You have an opportunity, here twenty years or more in to the twenty first century, to be anyone that you want to be. All you have to do is believe in yourself and WORK towards your goal.
At this point you’re trying to figure out who I’m talking to, me or you, dear reader. Me. I am talking to me. And, of course, I am conversing with any peacocks in the area as well as humans who are puzzled by my ever changing feathers and foliage. ( I should have warned you that flowers sometimes spring unexpectedly from my nether parts, mostly dandelions and violets. )
So on to the history of things this past year … we are homesteading. We aren’t full prepper. That concept is very hard for violet spouting peacocks to grasp. But we are growing the majority of our own food. Last year we grew, canned, fermented and dehydrated about 35% of what we eat. This year we have more than doubled our gardens and are focused on 50% or more. Our storage areas are well organized (not an easy accomplishment for a time traveling peacock who converses with Benjamin Franklin in the time continuum) and we have been buying ahead and storing food and sundries for nearly two years now. I’ve started more than 240 plants to put out in to our gardens as well as flowers, lots of flowers. I need color inside and out of our funny, crooked converted barn of a house.
Last year we gave away 54 dozen eggs and five 5 gallon buckets of fresh produce. This year I plan to reach 100 dozen eggs and who knows how much fresh produce. That will depend on the weather patterns. I’m mixing flowers and herbs with produce, companion planting. And not one of those plants will be discussing politics of any kind. We are working our butts off here because we do not have a tractor, just hand tools and determination.
I am still working and playing with my horses, dogs as well as helping neighbors and friends when they need me. I consult occasionally but just for fun. In short, we are living without fear. I definitely suggest that as an alternative to the anxiety I see most people living with.
I am writing here on stolen time. Chores and the earth call. I plan to come back on a regular basis this year, at least between unexpected bouts of time travel.
I am, ever yours, Nancy, laughing out loud!
PS. Just so you know, we did not wear masks, practice “social distancing” (I do not care for that phrase.) or participate in any of the other lunatic behaviors displayed over the past two years. We are still exactly who we have always been.
“ It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live. Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself in your way of thinking. “
I’ve been thinking about fear a lot the past several months. We all have an inner warning system that gives us situational awareness. Even people who are ruining their lives with addictive behaviors (drugs, alcohol, gambling, too much eating, not enough of the right kind of food and the list goes on…. )have a set of instinctive reactions that will, in the right set of circumstances, keep them from walking off a cliff.
I tell people who come out to meet horses for the first time that fear is a normal, in fact healthy, reaction to being with a horse for the first time. You’re standing next to a sentient creature who is a thousand pounds of muscle and bone that can kill a human without much effort. Assessing your situation is smart! Thankfully it is not in the nature of a horse to kill without extreme provocation. Listening to your “lizard brain” has kept you alive.
“ I must not fear. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see it’s path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. “
Fear is one of the easiest ways to manipulate the vast majority of people. The use of the media and social platforms has been used very effectively to magnify a situation that has become untenable. Countries all over the world have been divided, neighbors and old friends are at odds with each other. Here in the USA our schools were closed, small businesses were considered non essential and closed. Our church’s, when people needed each other and their faith the most, were closed and the leaders of those church’s arrested for continuing to have services.
We were told to wear masks to keep ourselves safe, to stay away from all gatherings. People died alone, without their families at their sides to help them through the transition from this life to the next. We were very effectively divided and isolated from each other. We were terrified in to submission using confusing information that came from so called authorities. If anyone asked questions, especially logical questions, about what was going on we were censored, castigated.
When I began to openly ask questions, to refuse to wear a mask or play this game, I was called a heretic, a mass murderer, a monster. I was called a supremicist, a bigot, cruel and thoughtless, and so on. The list of so called evils reached ludicrous levels pretty quickly. So I withdrew from all social media platforms, from reading the news. That was a fear response on my part. What if these threats came back on my family? I was not prepared for the mob mind entering my home.
I retreated to my cave while I recovered. I wasn’t sick. I was appalled. The veneer of civilized behavior was much thinner than I realized. No one, not even my former personal physician who had also been a friend, was interested in alternative ideas or questions. I was castigated for being me. The picture of me being painted by people I had known for many years did not match who I thought I had shown them. I needed to know why.
“ Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth. “
Evidently I had become the “horse” and people were afraid of my curiosity, my ability to see outside their safe space. My questions were the unknown and I was shunned. Thankfully I have my family. Although those bonds were tested during the past year and a half, our love and respect for each other overrode the social pressure . Because of my adult children arranging a vacation for all of us to spend time as a family, we were for ten days together, supporting each other. For a time we were in the present without the woes of a confusing world, politics or societal issues interfering.
“ The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows - a wall against the wind. “
There’s nothing small about love, but some of the smallest things that happened while we were on this vacation were the largest. When my grandchild offered to help me make a bed, and then we jumped on it, my heart was full. I laughed and it opened up the places I had retreated to for protection. The light shining in was perfect. All of the spontaneous hugs, a chipmunk round up when three chipmunks came in an open door, the hike that we met a black bear on, making pancakes together and hearing my favorite in-law say that I was an honorable person filled in all of the tiny wounds and helped me to heal.
We were still Americans who loved each other for all of our complicated differences. And we were together. For those ten days I left fear outside the door and was able to look at it from a different point of view. It was OK to let it in because it is a normal and healthy part of life. There is no light without the dark to show us the edges.
It’s occurred to me that we have become a society of very comfortable people who do not want our walls shaken. I genuinely think that the majority of us want to be kind. We want to raise our children, delight in their families and the grandchildren they bring in to our lives. We want to pay our bills, help our neighbors when we can and to live without too much strife. Most of the reactions this past year and a half were from frightened people who were being challenged and felt they had no where to turn, so they attacked.
Very few people were ready to tackle a rocky, uphill climb with obstacles in their way. They had grown complacent, had forgotten how to meet a challenge. The fear was overwhelming and was used to create anger, confusion, strife and was magnified with the exhaustion of loss of sleep, lack of exercise and isolation. So they struck out with words and, unfortunately, sometimes actions. They were fighting for their lives, in their minds, and I was an easy to spot target because I was different in my reactions, a threat to their comfort zone.
“Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.”
I admit that I am still confused. I can not fathom why people are so complacent in a situation that is not logical. From my point of view we are all participating in the destruction of our own country. Very few small businesses have survived the past year and a half. Big box stores including liquor stores, pharmaceutical stores, strip joints and gambling casinos as well as big box grocery stores and gas stations have been left alone and considered essential. Small businesses are the backbone of our country. It’s the entrepreneurial spirit and imagination that makes the USA a power house, an example of freedom in the world. It’s the self destruction of the American Dream. Why didn’t people fight that harder? FEAR. Fear of the unknown and unseen. How do you fight something you can’t see?
“ Listen to the mustn’t, child. Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me …. Anything can happen, child. Anything can be. “
So I am on a campaign of leading by example. I do not fight with anyone who thinks differently than I do. I listen and try to understand. And then I continue on my way, doing what I was doing. I have decided to live my life the way I always have. NO MASKS. NO SOCIAL DISTANCING (I despise that made up by the media term. ). I do what I have always done. I will not change to match society’s expectations. So far I do not see people going back to masks. Certainly there are some people who never stopped wearing them. That is THEIR CHOICE. The vast majority of people are back to living without the symbol of control, a mask. We’re being told that another lockdown is coming, that vaccines are not enough, that masks have to continue to be used. But the cat is out of the bag on that one. Too many of the so called “elite” are being caught with their panties down and NO MASKS. I prefer to think that people are going to ask questions about why ANY mask, lockdown or social distancing is needed. Resistance to thoughtless compliance is NOT futile.
I am sharing from my gardens. I am sharing eggs. I am sharing time when someone needs me to be there, if I can. I smile, always a genuine smile too. I enjoy people, always have. I like meeting them, listening to their stories. I greet them, “ Good morning! “ or, “ Hi! “. I wave from my truck, smile at babies, compliment new mothers. And if someone obviously is distressed by my behavior I move on. I do not take it personally. How they behave is a reflection of who they are. I make no assumptions, and am actively refusing to participate in gossip. “ I don’t want to talk about that. “
I am planting even more flowers. The world needs color and beauty. I’ve put in to my budget BUY POUNDS AND POUNDS OF FLOWER SEEDS. I’m planting fruit bearing trees. If they don’t make it past the deer then at least the deer have benefited (although I am working on a system to protect the baby trees).
We are repairing, to the best of our abilities, the house and out buildings. We’re painting and replacing as we can. I am following through on an old Girl Scout Moto, “ Leave a place better than you found it. “
. Notice that I said GIRL. I am standing my ground on the fact that I am female, that I believe there are two sexes, male or female. I support marriage between a man and a woman. Women are the ones who have wombs, a uterus, ovaries, vagina, breasts, and have babies. Men have testicals and a penis. A man can not be pregnant or have a child that he carries in his body. He has no womb nor eggs. He contributes sperm.
I have nothing to say to anyone about the so called transitioning to another sex. No matter what you choose to do to your body, you were born either male or female. You will still have a set of chromosomes that identify you as female or male.
I am not playing the color game anymore than I have at any other time of my life. I like people. I don’t care about their colors. ALL LIVES MATTER and they always have. The rest is just semantics.
“ The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and although in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater. “
I don’t know what to tell you, dear reader. I have just been notified that my email list is no longer available . At this point I am writing to myself. I am being censored. How interesting. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life without an internet. Somehow I survived just fine without the so called approval of whomever it is that has flagged this BLOG. What I have to say still counts, at least for me. I AM STANDING MY GROUND. I am exactly who I have always been.
“ Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed. “
I guess there is no end, no real conclusion to this. I will send this via text to friends. I am still, ever yours, Nancy, smiling….
“ The first duty of a (wo)man is to think for (her)himself. “
I’m using up valuable planting time to write this, but it’s something that has to be said. I heard from an old friend a few days ago. (Always no names or gender used.) We caught up on friends, family, travels and projects the way people who’ve known each other for years do. But in between everything being said was a constant that I found disturbing. “ I h@te Republicans. I h@te Trump. I just spent the year isolated and afraid. “ I didn’t respond. I never do. I firmly believe that, as Americans, we have the right to our politics and religion without feeling a need to share them or to even be compelled to share them. And I usually don’t. It’s nobody’s business who I vote for or what I believe spiritually. But this year is different simply because people seem to feel the need to push their agenda on to me.
I am an Independent voter and belong to no particular religious group. HOWEVER I am most definitely Judeo/Christian in my orientation and I am conservative in the majority of my views. I am exhausted with the “breakdown the family unit” rhetoric coming from an extreme left, politically. I’m worn out with the h@tefull propaganda being pressed on the public by a media that is no longer anything except a vehicle for the extremists. And it is getting harder to listen to h@te speech coming from people I’ve known for many years. (That four letter word, h@te, is powerful and full of venom. It is the worst word in the English language, or any other for that matter. It has power. I will not use it so I misspell it using another symbol.) I am tired of the fear mongering and the impact it has had on vulnerable people.
So here is what I have to say to all of you reading this BLOG entry. STOP IT. Be who you are and own it. Be proud of who you are, but don’t try to impress on me or anyone else how important it is to be just like you or be canceled. I’m not interested in that kind of exclusivity. I’m not interested in your politics or religion as long as you are not hurting children, animals or other people intentionally. If that is the case, find another to share your need to whine or impress on someone else how right you are and how wrong others are. I am interested in your story. I am happy to debate. I’m not going to join your group or belief system. I am exactly who I have always been. Like any of you I evolve through life experience but I am still just Nancy.
Shall I tell you what I miss after a year of people being manipulated in to thinking they are going to die, businesses being lost, jobs being lost, people loosing it because they are suffering from loneliness and despair, churches being closed, schools becoming prisons, and this rancid cancel culture attitude? I miss seeing a friend at the grocery store and talking about fresh produce. I miss being able to, very occasionally, go to my favorite little restaurant and having a meal, watching the human drama going on around me. I miss being able to save my money and flying to see my grandchildren. I miss seeing families out with their children enjoying the parks instead of being afraid to go there because of the wigged out drug addicts and muggers, the human feces and bloody syringes. I miss weddings and funerals, birthday parties and potluck dinners. And I miss a challenging debate instead of threats and h@te mongering. And I miss the guaranteed Constitutional rights that I have to make my own decisions about how to take care of myself, to be myself with all of my good parts and faults without people threatening me because I do not follow a set of implied rules.
If I have any advice for anyone, it’s to let yourself out of your self imposed prison. Try being kind. If you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say it. If you see someone in trouble and you can help, hold space for them. Open the door, help pick up that bag of dropped groceries, mow their lawn or share a dozen eggs. Make cookies and take them to their door, smile WITHOUT a mask on and offer the plate to them. Tell them you miss talking over the fence. Ask how they are. LEAVE POLITICS out of the conversation. And keep your opinions to yourself. Just listen and enjoy the weather together. Offer a hand shake or a hug.
We are a social species. We need to be together. We need our families, our neighbors, and we need fresh air and the sun on our faces .
1. Be impeccable with your word.
2. Don’t take anything personally.
3. Don’t make assumptions.
4. Always do your best.
Shall I explain what those statements mean to me in the context of this post? When you are talking with a friend, remember they are as an individual. Be kind. My old friend sat there and told me they h@ted people because of their political choices. That is supporting a deeply divided nation, an ideal that it’s “my way or the highway”. How dull. How self centered, making that assumption. Takes you right to #3 doesn’t it? And ask yourself, during the process of denigrating people for their politics or religion, if that is your best. I don’t think it is. Your best is keeping your eyes open, asking questions, listening to what others have to say. Hold space for others. Be kind in your thoughts and intentions.
Be an activist of kindness. I’ve been doing some things to honor my Grandparents for their incredible kindnesses during the Great Depression during the 1930’s. They helped to keep three neighboring farms intact, gave away dozens and dozens of eggs and truckloads of produce, helped people with chores and kept them smiling with their ability to tell funny stories. They were generous and kind without seeing the faults in their neighbors. They resisted the opportunity to judge people and chose to help instead.
The past two months I have : given away 14 dozen eggs, made cookies for three families, helped support an idea that became a wish fulfilled, opened doors and told funny stories to people who needed to laugh. And I did all of it with no fear, no mask, no expectations of a thank you or a returned kindness. Instead I tell people to just pass it on, pay it forward.
Be that unexpected spot of color in the garden, the dandelion that makes people smile and stop to look at how wonderful sunshine yellow is in the Spring.
“The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.” ― Terry Pratchett, Diggers
To celebrate or mourn, depending on how you look at it, a year of no common sense and fear buttons being punched so hard by social media and the press that people have grown in to a kind of mass panic over a virus that has a 99.94% survival rate, I am thinking about the ultimate practical joke. I found several websites that make masks with anything you want printed on the them. What if I had one printed up that looks like my face but with pale skin and bloody pus coming out of my nostrils? I could put makeup on the rest of my face when I wear the mask, put fake blood capsules in my mouth and when someone says something I could bite on the capsules, roll my eyes back and start staggering around like a Zombie. I could even attach some fake flies to the outside of the mask.
What? You don’t like that idea? It’s gross and lacks respect. So what! For this entire year of bizarre behaviors while I watched Constitutional rights shattered over and over, cities burned and looted, suggestions of defunding police departments, people being attacked and vilified for not following the new social norm by refusing to wear a useless mask (me included) and convicted felons who are rapists, violent, arsonists released in to the world because “ they might get the COVID “ I think I might just fit in. Society is filled with Zombies who spend all their time hiding at home while others work long shifts wearing masks with no breaks. The Zombie people stare at little glass screens and attack anyone who isn’t also a Zombie. So, I become a Zombie only more so.
It’s occurred to me that the real lack in our world is that no one has a sense of humor anymore. We’re supposed to be afraid of being politically incorrect. There’s no space to be creative much less a creative problem solver. We’re supposed to be compliant even when everything is based on lies and mandates (.
As nouns the difference between mandate and law
is that mandate is an official or authoritative command; an order or injunction; a commission; a judicial precept while law is (uncountable) the body of rules and standards issued by a government, or to be applied by courts and similar authorities or law can be (obsolete) a tumulus of stones.
As a verb mandate
is to authorize.
As a interjection law is
(dated) an exclamation of mild surprise; lawks.
A mandate is an official or authoritative COMMAND. I define myself as an American. I live by the law, not by authoritative command. This is not a monarchy or a communist country, at least not yet. I have chosen not to wear a mask. ( News flash : neither my spouse or I have taken any measures to protect ourselves for this last year against any virus or disease. We do not wear masks, do not practice social distancing. We’re both past 65 this year, so in the category of people least likely to survive this virus. Why haven’t we been sick? ) . Decisions are supposed to be made by the citizen through informed consent. My body, my space, my choice.
How do you show you like something on ZombieBook? You click on the “ Bite you “ button.
Come on, man! Smile.
One of the things I’ve noticed is that no one smiles anymore. Everyone is hidden behind masks. How can you see a smile if it’s always covered up? How are you going to recognize friends when you’re out if the face is always covered? So how do you retain a sense of humor when your face, one of the ways you communicate, is covered? And how about children? Does anyone understand what they’re doing to children when they can’t play together, touch each other, laugh and cry or learn about how to interpret emotions when the face can’t be seen?
We are social creatures. Basically the human race has been partially blinded with no one to help us find a way to see or communicate. I miss going in to the grocery store and talking to the person next to me while we choose our fresh produce. I miss watching people interact with each other. I love the theater of life! And I especially miss smiling...
In our county 70 deaths total have been recorded, of COVID. More than 90% of those people were over 70 years old, most of those in the 80 years old plus range. Our population is 124,559 people. That means our percentage of deaths is .00056198 %. My question is doesn’t anyone die of old age anymore? People I am considered old now. I’m not sick. I did not protect myself. How come? Luck of the genetic toss of the dice? How about you look at that number again. .00056198%. For that number our unemployment is now over 10% , children are either sitting at home with heads stuck to little glass screens or sitting in rooms with plastic shields around them and masks on. More than thirty percent of the small businesses in our area have closed permanently. People have been harassed openly for not wearing masks and churches are allowing limited capacity people instead of a full church. No funerals, no weddings, no school dances, no sports, no music recitals or dance recitals, and the list goes on and on. I haven’t even listed the growing suicide numbers, broken marriages, families torn apart, bankruptcy’s, or people who have not been going to doctor’s or dentist’s offices for regular check ups.
.00056198%
One of my secret guilty pleasure is sitting here, after morning chores, with a cup of tea and listening to this YouTube channel. This one is very close to how I feel, how I react to a world that feels broken and upside down. The narrator has a good voice too.
Q: What kinds of streets do zombies live on? A: Dead ends!
Please, dear reader, come up for air. Remember 2019 when unemployment was at an all time low, businesses were thriving, friends got together for potluck dinners and weddings, celebrated a life well lived at funerals. Families staid with a member who was dying, held their hands, washed their faces, told funny stories and remembered all things good and bad together and all of it, ALL OF IT, was done without the thought of a mask. People hugged, shook hands, smiled at each other, stopped to enjoy buskers on the street performing music or dance, theater or juggling. We traveled to wonderful places in our country and visited other countries too.
REMEMBER your life and make a decision to regain it with an open face, NO MASKS. Go to the store to pick up milk and eggs without worrying about who used the cart before you did. And, even better, mind your own business. Stop making judgement calls and harassing people for not being just like you. Laugh more, tell stories, go to museums to look at astounding fine art, hike, walk, help your neighbors, WAKE UP.
Make cookies and take a plate to your neighbor’s house to share without a mask on. Smile when they open the door. It doesn’t matter whether they take it. It’s the fact that you are being yourself again without the bizarre restriction of wearing a mask. It has to start somewhere. Plant a seed of smiles and kindness.
And STOP WATCHING THE NEWS. Give yourself a break from the deeply slanted news agencies and social media platforms. Watch a comedy. Read a good book. Clean your closets and give what you don’t want away and DO IT WITHOUT A MASK. Buy a cup of coffee for the person in line behind you. Shovel the snow from your neighbor’s driveway and DO IT WITHOUT A MASK ON. Plan your Spring gardens with your children. Let them decide what to plant. Play CLUE or MONOPOLY or GO FISH with your family and turn the TV off.
Make a fire in the fireplace, cut some branches from a tree, buy a bag of marshmallows and roast them while you sit on the floor with just the light from the fire and tell stories to each other. Live your life and stop obsessing over the things you can’t control.
Be creative in your choices and LAUGH. Do everything without a mask in the equation and smile as often as you can at the people you see. Life is too short to live the way the so-called experts are telling you to live.
Up on the road were some guys trying to fill a hole they had dug yesterday, putting in some kind of fiber optic tech line. They turned around and watched too. And then one of them put on some music, blasting it from their trucks. I waved and kept dancing. My poor orphan doggies couldn’t take that. They all came running out, splashing and rolling, doing their business and forgetting about whether it was cold and wet. All of us were soaked, muddy and playing in the rain.
And then the guys on the road started pointing and waving. I turned and here comes Lucky, my beautiful, glorious Lucky, running straight at the gate without stopping. And over he came, sailing like he was Pegasus and his wings were carrying him. He’s twenty years old! My Lucky is twenty years old and hasn’t jumped 4 and 1/2 feet for years and here he came, right over the fence. We all stood there, jaws dropped. He foxtrotted up to me and said, “ Whoooohooohooo hoooooo!” He was not going to be left out.
I could hear the guys, up on the road, laughing and cheering. It really was a spectacular leap. Lucky’s take off to landing is always over 17 feet. I don’t show my horses, don’t care for the stress it causes the horses or people, for that matter. But we did jump out on the trails whenever I found a good place for it. And both of us loved it. And there he was, rain soaked and steaming because he had run from the back of his pasture to leap. I had some of his favorite cookies in my pockets so I gave him one. He chomped and chewed, humming the way he does. Everything Lucky does is with a verbal comment. He’s always done that, has cracked friends up when we ride or play together. Lucky’s full brother, three years older than him, was a world class jumper. He even looked like my Lucky, a beautiful copper penny of a horse with one white sock. They both were blessed with spectacular health and perfect conformation. I still marvel at the fact he is mine.
My beautiful stunning boy can still fly! John heard it, came out the door to help if I needed him. He asked if I needed a halter and lead. “ No, thanks. We’re fine. Lucky’s here because he wants to be. He won’t leave me. “ and he didn’t either. We played on the ground out where the old arena was, before the tornado took it, and up and down the drive. The dogs were still playing in the puddles, following scent trails and walking with us. Lucky and I played in the rain, practicing walk/stop transitions, walking circles, walk/stop/back and then just walking together as buddies. He knew when we got back and I took him through the gate there would be another one of those wonderful molasses cookies. He hummed, I sang off key and we all danced together in the rain. I was so cold I was shaking and it never occurred to me to stop.
When we got back to the barn I took time to check his legs for heat, check his hooves for stones since he jumped on gravel and to walk him around a bit more to make sure he was cooled off. Apache, Stony and Willow joined us. I love walking with a herd around me. Maybe I was a horse in another life? I don’t know. It always makes me feel safe to have them there with me.
How many people get to do that? Dance in the rain with three ancient farm dogs, one spectacular aging horse and more waiting at the gates? I don’t have a penny to my name because I spend all of it on my animals, and I love my life! I am married to my best friend, live with three wonderful, aging horses, one fierce bad donkey, three dogs, four cats, seven ducks and seven chickens. We work hard here, love this place we live in. If I had one wish for the world, it would be for people to have this kind of muddy, wet, messy, cold, grey January morning dancing with a horse down the road to some pop music blaring from a truck. If everyone could have these brief moments of unadulterated joy, maybe they would calm down a bit, relax to the rhythm of their lives and enjoy the moments in the real present, not the make believe they see on little glass screens.
We’re so lucky in our lives. We both enjoy living tight to the bone, meeting the challenge that comes with the choices we made. The land we live on is beautiful, off the beaten path. We are the caretakers of the land for the Universities nearby. It’s a preserve we’ve protected for twenty years. Living here allows me the chance to dance in my PJ’s with my dogs and flying horse.
I heard a friend say that they missed 2020 because this year was starting out worse. Not for me this morning, on a classic Kansas Winter day. It’s still grey, cold, raining. We’re in the middle of the day now. Evening chores will start in three hours and I don’t think the temperature has changed or the rain slowed down. It’s going to be muck on top of frozen ground and we’re all going to be sliding around. It’s the kind of day that folks huddle inside away from, waiting for Spring and sunshine. But today, for Lucky and I, my three amigos (Apple, Scout and Sandy) and my husband who hugged me, mud and all, when I came in and said he loved me, for today it’s perfect. I wish everyone could find a way to feel what it’s like to have a glorious 16 plus hands horse jump a fence, just to be with them.
Magic. It’s all magic. I can’t wait to see what comes around the bend for us next.
Isn’t he stunning? I am so in love!
I am, ever yours, Nancy (who forgot to take my phone with me so I couldn’t get images. How twentieth century of me!), smiling
