The Space in Between

This week, Silk was limping on her back right leg.  It was particularly frustrating and worrying since I am not able to even pick up her foot to see or feel what’s wrong. I was able to cajole my daughter into cleaning it and putting Animalintex and a boot on for a couple of days but Silk seemed like she was in more pain. Daughter was overwhelmed by all the other barn chores and feeling very sorry for herself. It hasn’t been the summer she expected to have. All she does is take care of her parents and the animals.

So, I was very relieved when Johnny, my dear sweet farrier rushed in and helped us by draining the abscess. Instantly, Silk felt better and I did too. It left me noticing how hard it is to just sit still and heal. I have a huge list of things that I’d like to do around here. My husband’s list is even longer, and he only has a small window of time before his work schedule gets really busy again in September. So, we’ve been stewing and bemoaning how our doctors won’t let us do what we need to do.

I watch how Silk just accepts what’s happening and adapts to the circumstances. And when I feel guilty that my daughter is so bored by her daily routines while her friends send her notes from the fabulous places they are on vacation, I remember all the summers of my childhood. I had long days with nowhere to go, and I hated being stuck in a small town in the Midwest. Yet, it was good for me, forcing me to stretch my imagination.  I drew and painted and read. I dreamed about escaping to a glamorous life in New York City. I had the time and space to rest and think.

I’ve become a big fan of Margaret Wheatley. Someone gave me a wonderful book of hers called “Perseverance” which I've read over and over.  I’ve been exploring her other writing and work, and I like her clear thinking. Here’s a quote from an essay about the stress that our children are feeling:

“I hope we don't have to wait until our children reach adulthood for them to discover, as we may have done, that a healthy life requires peaceful moments, and that being present in the moment is a wondrous skill. I hope we can teach them that plans are not the answer to all of life's needs, that there is truth to the old joke that if you want to make God laugh, just present your plans. I hope we can teach them to expect moments of chaos when everything falls apart, and to dance with those moments rather than fear them. I hope we can teach them to not be afraid of boredom and loneliness, so that they stop grasping after entertainment, drugs, or alcohol to fill the void. Loneliness, boredom, restlessness-these are conditions of being human. No matter how much we deny them or run from them, they always return. As we mature, hopefully we learn that we don't need to fill the emptiness, that we can just sit with it and it will pass.
”

Soon, I’ll be racing around, using both hands again. My husband will be hard at work. My daughter will be buried in homework and the stresses of high school. It all changes. One minute, my horse can’t bear the pain on her back hoof. Then, the pressure is relieved and she’s happily eating hay.

“If we have been aware of the process of our lives, including the moments that we hate, and are just aware of our hating – “I don’t want to do that, but I’ll do it anyway” – that very awareness is life itself. When we stay with that awareness, we don’t have the reactive feeling about it. Then, for a second we begin to see, “Oh, this is terrible- and at the same time, it’s really quite enjoyable.” We just keep going, preparing the ground. That’s enough.”

Joko Beck, Zen teacher

What a Week!

Last Saturday, my husband went to the doctor to check if he had Lyme disease.  He had all the classic symptoms- chills, sweats, aches, exhaustion plus a rash.  She agreed that he probably had it and decided to check his heart.  Next thing we knew, we were in the ER and they were hooking him up to all the monitors and paraphernalia because he had “heart block”.  His heart rate was less than half of what it was supposed to be.

 

It turns out that this is what those nasty little ticks can do.  While he sat in his hospital bed waiting for the antibiotics to kick in, there was talk of temporary pacemakers and other scary things. My daughter and I hovered anxiously, thankful that we had a doctor who recognized what was happening and that we were in a hospital with a reputation for being expert in Lyme disease and cardiac treatment.  The nurses and doctors were incredible – caring, experienced, funny and right there on it every minute.  And the antibiotics worked, so he’s going to be fine.  There was no damage to his heart, and after a month of doxycycline, he will be back to normal.  

When the infectious disease specialist learned we had horses, he said that he didn’t know anyone who has horses who hasn’t had Lyme disease.  I haven’t. My daughter hasn’t had it.  But our puppy, Stella, has it now too, and both horses have had it. I’ve become a zealot about bug spray.  I even bought a bottle with Deet for those occasions when we have to go out in the woods. For every day use, I’m favoring the non-toxic stuff --Repel with lemon-eucalyptus and Buzz Away Extreme. The doctor recommends soaking our clothes in Permythrin but I don't think I can wear something that kills cats if they come near it.  Apparently, the ticks are worse this summer because we had such a mild winter.  It makes me nervous now each time I go outdoors, which is really depressing since I love being outdoors.

I decided that I just have to be extra vigilant, but not limit myself from living the way that I usually do. Bad enough that I still have this heavy brace on my right arm and can’t do the normal things in the barn or the garden. My daughter is laboring hard over her summer vacation, literally being my right hand.  She’s being a really good kid about it, with only occasional complaints when I throw too much at her at once. I’m a person who never stops moving from the minute I get out of bed so I have to be careful not to become a control freak. “Back off, Robo Mom!” she tells me.

Not the summer that we had hoped to have, but at least we’re all safe and sound here at home together again. Our friends and neighbors have been so great, helping with the horses and mowing our lawn and bringing us delicious dinners. It certainly makes us appreciate the little things we do for each other.  I think that’s probably the most important lesson in all this.

In an Instant

It’s amazing how life can change in an instant. Two weeks ago, on a sweet sunny Sunday morning, I got up and went out to feed the horses. I walked down the path by the tack room, my mind drifting to who knows where. My ankle twisted, and I went down with nothing nearby to grab or break my fall.  I landed on a wooden log next to the flowerbed crashing down on my right arm. The pain was so sharp, and when I looked at my elbow, the shape was totally out of whack. Completely dislocated. 

My husband rushed me to the hospital, where they were wonderfully kind and immediately loaded me with pain medication. The rest of that week is a haze, with visits to the surgeon, very heavy-duty pain killers, and finally, on Friday, surgery to fix my broken bone and dislocated right elbow.  It was as if time stood still for five days while I waited. The surgeon, who is an elbow expert wanted to have the wrist expert with him when they operated so we had to wait until he was available. They say I will have full recovery of the use of my arm.

My husband and daughter have been amazing throughout this ordeal.  Four days after I fell, I was able to wobble down to the barn hanging onto my daughter’s arm.  Everyone was worried by how upset Silk was that I had disappeared. When she saw me, she made a loud “nnnmmm!” noise and ran to me.  My arm was in a huge soft cast at that point, and Silk put her nose right on it and sniffed up and down from my fingers to shoulder and back. She got it, I could tell, and relaxed. Since then, when I am able once a day, I go out with someone to hold onto me and check in with the girls. They are doing fine. I have no idea when I will be able to fill a water bucket or pick a hoof, but I remind myself that the surgeon is positive that I will have full recovery.

Now, I’m sporting a robot like splint that we refer to as my “ex-o-skeleton”.  Doing any simple thing, like opening a bottle or brushing my hair, is a big deal. I hope that my arm heals quickly, and I faithfully do the exercises the doctor has taught me. Being this dependent on other people is really frustrating, but I am so grateful for such good help. And I think it’s better to have broken my elbow than my knee. What this has done is put my whole life in a new perspective. As I drifted off in the dream state that dilaudid, a very strong pain med, induced, I felt the roof peel off above my bed and reveal blue sky with fluffy white clouds floating above me. I realized that for the first time in many years, I was able to feel the space between the minutes open up wide.  I haven’t tried to plan or fill the space since then, and living so completely in the moment, appreciating how good my life is, really helps me now that I no longer am taking any pain medication. I feel very free to just be the way I am for now.

I don’t know how long all this healing will take, but I do know that I am more than okay, I am blessed.

On Memorial Day

We are spending some blissful, relaxing time at home on Memorial Day. The horses are grazing happily in the pasture. The sun is shining on the peonies that are about to open any minute and spread their lush, heady scent across the yard and into our windows.  We are so lucky.

So, my thoughts go to those people who are in places like Syria or Afghanistan or the Sudan, where children and many brave souls are dying in wars. Both my parents fought in World War II.  My dad never spoke of how it felt to slip behind enemy lines as a young American officer and help organize the Resistance. In noticeable contrast, my mother talked to me about her war experiences as the only woman in the Polish parachute brigade all the time, and even now, at 97 years old, still wakes up screaming at night with haunting visions of what she lived through.  I recently finished writing a book about her life, using interviews I did over the years with her, so she could leave a legacy of her story for my daughter and future generations in her own words. 

In honor of her bravery, I want to share one of the incidents she describes:

“In Holland, there were a lot of snipers, and Queen Wilhemina welcomed the Germans. Not one bomb was dropped, so the buildings were not damaged, but there were lots of snipers. The poor men, who were out on the Frontline were out of cigarettes. I was the welfare officer, and I had started a canteen with coffee, cigarettes and chocolate. So I asked my driver, who was Jewish, if we could both get on his motorcycle and bring some things to the men. He said, “Lieutenant, if you want to go, I’ll go with you.” Some of the men when they saw me said, “See I told you, the devil couldn’t make it through, but a woman did.” That was a compliment. But they were so glad to see us.”

 

I used to think that my mother was fearless, but I’ve come to realize that she did what she did even though she was often totally terrified.  I’ve been reading some of Alice Walker’s writing, and one thing that she says really touches me: “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” My mother understood this deep in her bones, and she still is able each day to find her power and carry on. Millions of people who are in terrible circumstances do, and that is what makes them heroes.  Today, let’s take a moment to appreciate them.

Love Is In the Air

Maybe because we are enjoying the most fabulous, blue-sky days in May, my thoughts have been turning to love.  I came across a quote from George Washington Carver: “Anything will give up its secrets if you love it enough.”  As I was grooming Siete yesterday, I decided to make a commitment to loving her more, since I often feel that I love her mother too much and Siete feels it.  This makes me wonder what kind of secrets she has that might be revealed if I give more of myself to her.

My daughter is reading John Steinbeck in her English class.  And she is now at the age where boys and crushes and the first pangs of love are swirling around among her friends. She watches them with amusement and astonishment, not having experienced these feelings yet herself.  So, we have had an on-going discussion on this subject, to which John Steinbeck has made an unexpected but helpful contribution.  Last night, I discovered a letter that he had written responding to his son, Thomas, who had fallen in love.  It was so appropriate and charming that I shared it with my daughter.  Here is what Steinbeck said: 

“There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you—of kindness and consideration and respect—not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it…The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it…It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another—but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good…And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens—The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.”

John Steinbeck in a letter to his son, Thom.

http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/01/nothing-good-gets-away.html

I realized that what Steinbeck was saying really applies to everything and every creature that you love.  One of the other interesting things about a love that has the duration of many years is that it ebbs and flows.  So, with each season that passes, my relationship with my little horse changes depending on how much I am willing to put into it.  We may not have spent much time together over the last few months, other than the day-to-day routine tasks that I do to care for her and Silk, but no ground was lost.  I can start right now to reaffirm how I feel.  If I love her enough, she will know it.

Celebrate the Strong Women

I was out early this Mother’s Day to pick up some hay from my favorite farmer. As I drove past his cows towards the barn, I noticed five or six very pregnant ones resting in a small circle in the pasture.  Coming back, most had moved on to graze nearby, except for one of the cows, who had given birth in those few minutes and was gently licking her tiny wet calf as the baby wobbled over to begin nursing. It was the perfect reminder for me of the miracle of life.

We spent most of the day with my mom, who loved every minute of it. She has recovered from her bout with diverticulitis and enjoyed the hugs from her granddaughter and the licks and snuggling with the dog and the two pieces of her favorite ice cream cake. She is my role model for being a strong woman, and even at 97, she encourages me to speak out against injustice and work for change.

Mother’s Day has been so corrupted by commercialism that I think it’s important to remember that it was originally started in 1870 as a cry against the Civil War and an attempt to remind people of what happens when you put mothers at the center of all things.

It was activist Julia Ward Howe who wrote: Arise, then, women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or tears!   Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have taught them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

So, as I appreciate how I am blessed by the life that I am living, my thoughts are more and more drawn towards what I can do to help the women in the world who need our voices and support in order to be safe and respected.  I recommend that you check out the Half the Sky Movement and this powerful article written by Nicholas Kristof today in the New York Times, “Saving the Lives of Moms”.

"If one woman is hurt, all women are hurt, there is no here & there about it."

 2011 Nobel Laureate Leymah Gbowee

Soft Morning

This is one of my favorite moments. Everyone else in the house is sleeping, except me and the kitty.  The morning is soft and foggy, with only the intensely happy song of some little birds nesting in the barn. The horses are enjoying their breakfast. Between the munching of hay and the chirping of the birds, I find the space to listen to the possibility of everything.

I was looking at some beautiful photos taken by an Indonesian photographer, Tri Joko,  and I’ve been thinking about what he said: “We need to realize that life can not be repeated.”

Walking back to the house, with each step that I took, I found myself saying, (left foot)“Thank” and (right foot) “you”.