Sunday, November 15, 2015

The Power of Love

later that night
I held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
(by Warsan Shire)

I cannot listen to any more self-righteous, patriarchal, outraged men (and even some women) spouting fear and stirring up hatred. Violence and murder are happening everywhere – the MidEast, Europe, Africa, the United States, Asia, South America, Canada -no place is immune.  I live in a town where 20 children were murdered three years ago, and it has changed and scarred all of us here forever.  It's overwhelming. Yesterday morning, I turned off the TV and the computer and went outside.

We are trying to remove mountains of dead leaves, and my husband has been using the mighty leaf blower to push them into enormous piles.  While gathering them next to the pasture, a flurry of leaves and small branches attached themselves to Silk’s tail. It was clearly irritating her. So I took my horse into her stall and began to extract the twigs and leaves carefully from her tail.  It was slow and tedious work since I was trying not to pull, and the leaves were sticky.

I remembered how when I first got Silk, she hated humans so much that she would stand with her back end firmly planted at the door of her stall, warning people to not invade her territory or come close.  I respected her and understood she had good reasons why she was acting that way, and it took literally years before she and I were comfortable being in her stall together.  Now, I stood next to her strong right back leg without any concern that she would kick me or attempt to hurt me in any way.  The power of love, I thought.  Never under-estimate it. Love and respect and dignity for humans, for animals, for every living thing.

Recently, I’ve become very interested in the writing and work of Nina Simons, co-founder of the Bioneers.  She tells us: “My heart keens with the sense of life’s very fabric unraveling. But imagine, instead of people being the instruments of Earth’s destruction, if we re-enter a sacred partnership with all of Life on behalf of her healing.
     May we remember how to bring the wholeness of our humanityour deep listening, our patient observation, our loving, powerful and tender hearts and our humble handsand our prayersto co-creating the conditions for thriving life.”

We are at a critical point.  Around the world, in small, unpublicized pockets, I am learning of strong women who are bravely changing things for the better.  I think about them all the time now, day and night,  and while it frightens me to think about how it will change my life if I make this kind of commitment, and I don’t even understand yet what it means I will do, I know that what women do right now will have the power to change everything, and it’s time to give it all we’ve got. Never underestimate the power of love.

(Check out World Pulse ( an on-line communication network for  all women, even in remote parts of the world, to speak out and join together in active connection. It’s inspiring. )

Friday, October 30, 2015

Home Alone Again

It was my husband’s birthday yesterday, but he was not here.  I was home alone while he was working much too hard on a gig in New York City.  We often joke that the success of our long marriage is that we spend more time apart than together. Apparently, missing each other is good for the heart.  Nonetheless, I was feeling lonely and blue.

I spent some good quiet time in the barn after I fed the girls their dinner. I brushed them and picked their feet extra carefully.  I realize how lucky I am to have these two beautiful horses, but as I walked up to the house, I still felt sad that Mark wasn’t inside, finishing up his day in his office.  I had Stella, the love dog, to greet me, and she spent a good part of the evening driving me crazy with an insatiable desire to play, play, play.  I kept reminding myself that I should be grateful that she is healthy enough now after her serious bout with Ehrlichia disease to want to play with me.  Eventually, I tired her out so she calmed down. 

I had plenty of friends that I could call, but I didn’t really feel like having any conversation.  Sometimes, I feel most alone when I’m in a room full of other people having conversations.  I really just wanted to be with my honey, sitting together on the couch.  I reminded myself that I had been teaching my daughter to learn to enjoy herself by herself. I was an only child, as she is, and there were many times when I was afraid to be alone in my life.  That no longer happens, but it did seem like I needed to follow my own advice.  For the last few weeks, my home has been full of activity. We just had a wonderful visit here with a very close friend that we love very much.  I’ve been telling myself that I was looking forward to a chance to be alone and recalibrate and balance myself again. So, here I am, and out of the blue, I’m feeling lonely.

I thought about something that Thomas Merton said: “Yet it is in this loneliness that the deepest activities begin. It is here that you discover act without motion, labor that is profound repose, vision in obscurity, and, beyond all desire, a fulfillment whose limits extend to infinity…The man who fears to be alone will never be anything but lonely, no matter how much he may surround himself with people. But the man who learns, in solitude and recollection, to be at peace with his own loneliness, and to prefer its reality to the illusion of merely natural companionship, comes to know the invisible companionship of God… I shall lead you through the loneliness, the solitude you will not understand; but it is my shortcut to your soul.”

I decided to sit with it. Don’t turn on the TV or watch a movie. Don’t pick up the phone and call someone. Just refill the well and clear the static out of my brain. I imagined a full moon over a calm lake surrounded by tall pine trees.  I felt my muscles relax and my thoughts float away in the clear sky. By the time I took the dog out for her last call, I was at ease in the silence, happy to be in my yard in the deep dark with mother Luna, the bright moon overhead. Contentment spread like a blanket over my little world.

I was asleep by the time my husband got back to his hotel and called me. So deep asleep that I wasn’t really able to talk to him.  “Miss me?” he asked.  Yes, but it’s okay. 

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Good Enough

I was mucking in Silk’s stall as she ate her dinner when she very deliberately snapped her tail and hit me in the face. It was a sharp sting, and I was shocked that she would do that to me.  There were no pesky flies or gnats. I had done nothing wrong.  “Hey! Cut it out!” I reprimanded her, but then I wondered what she was trying to tell me.  I stopped mucking and approached her right side.  Putting my hand on her neck at the bottom of her mane, I stood silently and waited for an answer. I couldn't hear it that night, but I didn't give up. It’s taken me two months and several more tail swattings to figure out what my horse was saying to me.

I’ve had a long, trying summer, losing people that I loved, trying to help other people that I love, and it’s drained me of my creativity.  I’ve sat in front of the blank page, feeling like I have nothing left to say that anyone would want or need to read. I’ve bought new paints, lovely spiral drawing pads, promised myself that I would do some kind of watercolor or sketch every day to start the flow again.  And I couldn’t do it, feeling more and more inadequate, as if I wasn’t pushing myself enough, wasn’t able to take a step towards being brave. I’ve always believed that creativity is a healing source of power in me, but I wasn’t able to summon it.

The disappointment that I was feeling about myself spread into my video camera and my computer as I tried to edit what I shot. Nothing was good enough. I wasn’t smart enough I thought to learn a complicated new editing program at my age.  I forced myself to finish a few short pieces, but could only see what was lacking in them when I finally sent them out into the world.

I can connect these feelings back to an event in June where I unexpectedly had kind of a revelation. As we were mourning the death of my friend, Paul, following the Native American tradition of keeping a fire burning for four days and four nights, I found myself sitting close to an enormous pile of blazing wood under the scorching noonday sun.  Hundreds of miles away, Chief Arvol was praying for all of us and doing the Horse Dance, so out of honor and respect, I was riveted to this patch of earth until I learned that he was finished. The heat was so intense and painful. It felt like the skin on my face was burning off.  Suddenly, I saw very clearly that deep in my core is a debilitating belief that whatever I do is not good enough. I was born to a perfectionist, and my mother relentlessly honed into me that I had to stick to it, push harder, do it better, never let anyone down or settle for anything less than the best. Just as she did.  Just as her mother did.  They handed it down, and until this summer, I’ve accepted that challenge with pride, even though I’ve always been striving for something that I never felt I could reach.  The realization hit me like a bolt of lightening, and I have been haunted by it for months.

For reasons that I have yet to understand, I have continued down this path, being led by some gifted Native American elders.  I was privileged to be invited to a sweat lodge led by a remarkable healer a couple of months later.  Again, the intensity of the heat was greater than anything that I had ever experienced. I heard the voice of my mother, telling me that I must be strong and stick it out. Then, the spirit of my father told me that there was no shame in leaving.  Even though my dad has been gone from this earth for twenty-five years, I listened to him for the first time ever and crawled out of the sweat lodge the next time the door was opened.  Instead of feeling upset with myself for not being able to take the heat, I felt free, released from some kind of ancestral emotional burden. 

In September, I attended a women’s leadership conference where writer Elizabeth Gilbert spoke. The best-selling author of “Eat, Pray, Love” has a new book called “Big Magic” where she tackles some hard questions about creativity, failure, and self-acceptance. She said something that struck a nerve:  “Fear takes many faces. It shows up as perfectionism, insecurity, wanting to please our family. At the very bottom of them all is a deep basin of fear that simply says, “I am not enough, I am never going to be enough.” 

Fast forward to last Friday, when I was participating in a creative workshop with a group of friends who are part of Jon Katz’s Creative Group at Bedlam Farm, being held in upstate New York. I sat in a yurt in the pouring rain with poet Doug Anderson and four other women. He gave us a writing exercise: List the things that you didn’t know you loved.  On my list was “the sharp slap of my horse’s tail across my cheeks”.  When I read what I had written aloud to the group, I liked it, especially that line. I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about how Silk has whacked me in the face three times over the last few months and wondering once again what her message was.

While I was cleaning Silk’s stall last night, I thought that what’s not good enough for one person might be just fine enough for another.  How much longer am I going to keep listening to my ego telling me that what I am doing has to be perfect, wishing that I were mastering something better and faster? Again, without warning, I felt the sharp slap of my horse’s tail across my cheeks. Be present. Be humble.  Okay, Silk, I am beginning to get it.  As Lakota writer and historian Joseph Marshall said, “Humility can provide clarity where arrogance makes a cloud.” There’s a lot of power in that.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

What Is Wrong with Some People???

When something disturbing happens, I like to sleep on it. It gives me a little distance from my immediate flood of emotions.  As most of you know, I have been spending time and effort helping the amazing people and horses at Blue Star Equiculture, a draft and working horse sanctuary that is an hour and a half from my home.  It’s a bit of a drive, but I make it up there as often as I can.  I am so moved and encouraged by the love, kindness and care that everyone at Blue Star shows to the horses and the humans.  It is a rare and cherished place. They are determined to continue to grow and bloom, and whatever I can do to help them, I will try. 

In the past couple of months, in the wake of a terrible tragedy where Paul Moshimer took his life, Pamela has been almost super-human in the strength and wisdom she has shown dealing with her grief and with running a very busy, ever changing non-profit organization, along with taking care of the horses that are fortunate enough to live at the sanctuary.  Many wonderful, unexpected gifts have occurred – the students in the draft horse classes from U. Mass agricultural school have stepped up and brilliantly joined in to plant, plow and maintain the routines in the barn and on the farm.  

Yet, recently, some people whom I have never met but have had associations with Blue Star, have been using social media to question the way that the non-profit is being run and personally attack Pamela.  These self-righteous, judgmental, ego-driven diatribes are of course not uncommon on Facebook and in the animal rescue community, but nonetheless, they are devastatingly cruel and unwarranted. Yesterday, I witnessed such an assault while I was trying to help Pamela with some fund-raising projects, and it staggered me.  Why? Why would anyone try to destroy all the good and the hope that is the inspiration happening here?

I watched the kids respond by standing strong with Pamela, moving forward with a big project that is happening today, defending once again with serious commitment what they believe in. These are young people who work so hard, care passionately about the horses, each other, their elders and Mother Earth. They don’t bury their heads in video games and on-line distractions. They are never mean or bullying or exclude anyone.  So when they face the groundless accusations of adults who claim they were once friends but are demonstrating this abhorrent, disrespectful behavior during a time of mourning and financial stress, they rise up and demand a better world than the one that we “grown ups” have created here.

I can’t afford to give as much as I’d like to, but I give.  I join the herd. I find a way to support what Pamela, Blue Star and these remarkable young people create and nurture each day.  They give so much of themselves, during a time when greed, corruption, and selfish personal gain are running rampant in our society.  This is a place to be celebrated, not torn apart. 

Please find it in your hearts to contribute to what Blue Star is doing in any way that you can.  Choose hope. Choose love.