The Hermits' Rest

Zoom Zoom

Are you tired of people going on and on about their online meetings? Me, too, but I still have things to say about it. In the past few days I’ve had a number of talks with friends and colleagues (mostly on Zoom) about how the pandemic and issues around it have changed their interactions with others. I’ve found it pretty interesting.

I pretend this is what I look like on Zoom with my headphones all jaunty and wearing lipstick that would stain the heck out of my mask if it were real.

This week I spent at least half of every day with my headphones on smiling at little square images of people who are smiling back at me. At least on Zoom, people can tell you are smiling, which is good, since my mask only accentuates my resting grumpy face. And I smile a lot, hoping it helps the moods of my friends and coworkers.

Since I work (and volunteer work) Zoom so often, I limit my personal Zooming pretty strongly. I have the world’s comfiest headphones (by Jabra), but they still get to me after many hours. Most of my personal conversations, like with my son and sister, are by text and Facebook Messenger, because that lets me multi-task, and frankly, I type more coherently than I talk. I can fix typos, but not speak-os.

Un-retouched Zoom me. Note wrinkles and frown lines.

Phone calls I just do with a couple of folks (hi Mike). I don’t mind them as much as some younger people do, but I don’t like yelling at the speaker phone where people can hear my whole conversation as well as what the other person says, but my ears need a rest from those headphones, so I don’t want to hold up the phone. And of course my fancy iPhone earpieces make me sound like I am talking from inside a well. Thanks, technology.

The COVID Effect

I’m pretty sure, though, that I communicate more often, and also communicate more deeply with others since the pandemic started. The threat over each of us that an invisible thing can come get us any time, anywhere, really makes me, at least, treasure my connections more.

What happens when I am on Zoom all day then open SnapChat. This is scary.

Many of my recent work meetings have turned into personal conversations, as well, since we agree that we need someone to safely talk about our concerns who doesn’t live in the same house with us. I’ve heard a lot about the difficulty of negotiating the current list of hot topics with relatives, talking to children about illnesses, and how important our pets are to us (see, it’s not just me!).

In some ways, I’m getting to know people better than I did before, when you tried so hard to just stick to the topic at hand. We all realize we NEED a little down time and that building relationships is important. Now, that’s a great bonus from all this isolation, for me.

Being able to see each other’s homes, our personal work spaces, our pets, or our back yards, reminds us that coworkers are way more than the spreadsheet maker, the project manager, the programmer, or the writer. That’s a key for greater understanding among all of us, which I’ve repeatedly stated: we all have more in common than we often realize. When you see that people in Israel or South Africa have the same collection of kitchen stuff on their counters as you do, the world gets smaller.

This meme hits way too close to home, doesn’t it?

2020 really has been a challenging year so far. Maybe these new connections will help us as we figure out what to do in the brave new, potentially even scarier, world of next year. Until then, I’ll keep on Zooming, texting, chatting, and writing.

How about you?

Farewell, Sweet Hen

Well, like I figured, we lost Ginger today. She was the most beautiful of our chickens and the friendliest. I loved to feed her.

And she was an amazing egg generator. Once she started, she laid 6 eggs a week. They were huge and dark brown. That huge amount of egg laying was probably her downfall, since her breed is prone to egg issues.

Part of ranch life is that there’s a lot of death. But I can still salute the fallen. I’ll miss our Ginger, even if I only had her 6 months.

Maybe I’ll let Clarence back in. Or not.

Book Report: The Sacred Enneagram

What follows won’t be my normal book report. I don’t know what it will be, really, because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to adequately explain the profound effect that The Sacred Enneagram: Finding Your Unique Path to Spiritual Growth, by Christopher L. Heuertz has had on me. Anyway, I knew I picked up those Enneagram books for a reason.

If You Don’t Know What an Enneagram Is, Skip This Part

By the time I finished the book, I realized I had mis-typed myself, and thankfully someone who understands this mumbo-jumbo better than I do helped me figure out why that happened. I feel good about things now, even if it turns out I am a Type 1 perfectionist. Ugh. But accurate. In my younger years, I veered off to the adjacent Type 2, who want to help everybody and everything, and since menopause, I have been leaning to Type 9, so no wonder I thought that was my type originally.

I’m grateful to my two friends named Victoria who talked to me and helped me figure that all out. It’s so good to have a sounding board when you know there’s something not quite right, but you can’t figure out what it is.

Here’s the Fascinating Part

At least it’s fascinating and surprising to me. The author of the book is a young man who has spent much of his life doing charity work and comes from a strong Catholic background. I talked about this, and how he even knew Mother Teresa, when I reviewed The Enneagram of Belonging, his other recent book. So, yeah, he sprinkled examples from his own spiritual journey throughout this book, as well.

The thing is, the way he wrote about the practices of his teachers, their attitudes toward God and Jesus, and their goals for their spiritual development really resonated with me. As I read on and on about the contemplative Christian tradition, I felt more and more at peace with their goals and practices.

Toward the end of the book, when Heuertz talks about ways of prayer that will help you find your spiritual home, I was deeply moved. The aims of these Christian prayers and practices practically mirrored my own, other than the words they used to refer to the Divine. There is centering, stillness, attention to your breathing and body, and invoking love. Just like what I do.

What works for me may not work for you. Image by *@linnflorin via Twenty20*.

It fits in very well with the kind of Buddhist teachings I am most drawn to, as well, which are the more nature-focused ones that view us on Earth as all part of one entity. Just like the Christian God being in us all and accepting us all just the way we are.

I even see where Brene Brown’s spirituality comes from, though she may well approach it from a different tradition. It all boils down to acceptance of our whole selves (not, in my case, the perfect self I keep trying to get to with all this self help, education, and introspection).

So, for me (and I would think to many readers who plow through the whole book), the Enneagram types and interrelationships all turn out to be a tool to use to figure out how to get past all that stuff. Wow. Mind blown!

As a non-Christian, the most intriguing part (and the one I want to know a LOT more about) is how these contemplative Christians fit Jesus into all this, since you sorta do have to be a fan of Christ to be a Christian. When Heuertz goes into stories about Jesus, it reminds me of my years stuck in a basement with two former theologians (supposedly writing our dissertations), where it dawned on me slowly that they knew perfectly well there’s a lot of analogy, metaphor, and interpretation going on when it comes to the role of Jesus in their faith.

One Thing This Book Did for ME

Going through this book, and reading a little more about the groups of Jesuits, Sufi, and other spiritual guides Heuertz talks about, woke me up to an area where I have needed to do more work. I realized, deep in my heart, that not all people in organized religions fit into my stereotypes. My history with Christianity has led me to some pretty unfair over-generalizations, which I’ve been trying to rid myself of, slowly but surely.

There are lots of paths to inner peace and oneness with the Divine. Mine now makes sense. I wish this for all of you, whatever your path.

This book did it. I now feel entirely comfortable with the Christian path trod by people Heuertz’s spiritual guides (and Jim Rigby, and Joanna Fontaine Crawford, and other Christians I know who are working so hard for equality, love and understanding among people).

I knew intellectually that religious folk are like any other group: so diverse that I can find people I feel kinship with as well as people I just don’t understand at all. Now I feel it in my heart.

Personal growth for the win!

PS: Of course this is just MY spiritual journey. Yours is just fine for you as long as it is helping you be the best you possible.

Tired of Rescuing Chickens

This started last night. When I came home, my normally energetic hen, Ginger, was not herself. She was listless and full. She even let me pick her up and hold her.

I was immediately worried she had a reproductive problem, since the high egg-production breeds get them. when I set her down, Clarence, the large Rhode Island Red rooster, got on her and would not stop. She didn’t seem to take it as well as hens usually do.

So, that was it for Clarence, and he is now a free-range guard rooster. Thanks to Chris for getting him out.

When I got home today, Ginger was the same, and had not laid an egg. I decided to put her in the old guinea cage where she will be safe from Bruce (who is not very into the ladies yet).

As I went to move her, damned Clarence busted into the pen. I hadn’t closed the door well enough. He immediately jumped on Ginger and she let out a horrible sound. I dove for Clarence, once more forgetting that there is sharp wire partway down the opening between pens.

It’s blurry, but that’s my hair on that metal. We will fix this issue.

After I scraped my head open, I tossed Clarence out rather unprofessionally. I was pretty mad. But, I got Ginger in the pen with food and water, so no one can pester her. I’m guessing she’s egg bound or something. I have no way to help.

Fancy Pants is checking up on her coop buddy.

Clarence has water and food, plus an endless supply of grasshoppers, so he’ll be fine. There’s even a coop for him at night.

Since he flies well, I’m not too worried about him.

Gratuitous picture of the black and white chickens.

And I got the blood out of my hair. The wound was not fatal! Later, I slammed a gate on myself. Stress does make you clumsy, I think.

Testing My Resolve about Good Intentions

I keep telling you one of my rules for life is to assume good intentions. I want to make the assumption that everyone I interact with is doing the best they can with the information they currently have. I want to assume the vast majority of people don’t set out to be mean, rude, arrogant, or unkind on purpose. I like to think that nearly everyone is capable of caring for the health and well being of others.

I can dream, can’t I? This whole pandemic thing seems like a big test of humanity, and one that is supporting the “man’s inhumanity to man” viewpoint (I’m quoting, so forgive me for the sexism).

Like many of my friends, my convictions have been tested strongly by people who come across as unconcerned about making friends and family members sick from a potentially deadly disease. No matter how hard you try to isolate, wipe things down, go nowhere, and see no one, it just takes one person who isn’t as careful to get you all infected.

I keep thinking of people I know who are essential workers, and have to be out in public. You know, the grocery store workers, the health care professionals, the police, the delivery drivers. They never know when a person who just doesn’t care will walk in and cough all over them. That then puts their own families at risk.

This doesn’t protect you from people who don’t care.

No longer is this just theory. Every single day I hear of a person who “doesn’t believe in” germs, or something, who gets infected and goes on their merry way. Not somewhere else. No, in the places where my loved ones live. They infect people I care about, and I can’t go help them or be with them. That makes assuming good intentions quite difficult.

Of course I’m not alone in this. Most people I know feel this way. Even people who are philosophically opposed to taking certain precautions don’t seem to want to make other people sick.

Where was I going with this? I guess the thing is that even if nearly everyone is coming from a place of good intentions and trying to do the right thing (even if their different backgrounds might cause them to choose differently from me), all it takes is a couple of people who honestly don’t give a flip about the rest of the world to ruin lives.

Let’s just get out of here, like Sara and Apache are here.

Is there nothing we can do about this? Should we just throw out the idea that people are doing the best they can? Maybe, just maybe, we can learn something and build a better future. I guess that depends on who’s left after all these viruses and other contagions (racism, fascism, random divisiveness, etc.) run their course.

Balancing Your Dreams with Their Dreams

Yow, there are a lot of ways today’s post can go, because I’ve been busy trying to come up with ways to be safe, treat others well, meet my own needs, and meet the needs of others. That’s a lot, combined with concerns about work and world events. But, most of us are in the same situation, I have a feeling.

Two recent influences in my life have combined to remind me to not forget what I want out of life. My reading on the Enneagram, while confusing in some ways, has brought a lot of clarity in others. (While you are only supposed to be ONE type in that system, I keep seeing parts of three in the more shadowy aspects of me, which could explain why I’m internally confused.) In the past few weeks, I’ve needed to make important decisions, and I keep running into the Type 9 proclivity to place the highest priority over creating a peaceful environment, which causes me to not advocate for my own perspective as hard as I could.

I hope this meme I made helps me realize I’m fine like I am. Even with my unhelpful aspects.

And, when someone close to me asked me what my fondest dreams for the future were, nothing came up. What the heck? I was taken aback. I realized that I basically wanted to support my spouse’s dreams, and hope some things I enjoy would come along as part of that.

Well, yuck! So, I began to wonder if this was a pattern (it was – ask my why I am in Texas, why I am where I am now, etc.). Now, I’ve had a good life, and am not whining about this state of affairs. I just genuinely got curious as to what the heck my own dreams were or are?

I realized that I have met two of my life goals. One is that I always wanted a house in the trees in a place I felt like I belonged, like when I was a child. My Austin house meets that need, so no wonder I fought to long and hard for it and want to keep it in all its total impracticality (especially right now).

It’s the Austin house (Bobcat Lair) showing lovely dark rain clouds. A house in the trees where I feel safe.

The other, as I have mentioned before, is that I always wanted to share my life with horses. I was drawn to them as soon as I met one as a child. Now that I have Apache and Fiona in my life, I won’t desert them, even if Apache has foot problems and Fiona doesn’t do any work (such animals are not popular on ranches, I have learned).

Hooray for the equines. And the chicken (on water bucket).

So, see, I HAVE managed to keep my dreams going while still supporting Lee’s (just one example, not picking on him – he’s a good guy with good dreams).

Apache Newsbreak

Trixie was here yesterday to check on Apache after his recent setback, and to do some other work on our little herd. His feet look remarkably good for a horse dealing with his challenges. There was just one little area of redness, which could have been a stone bruise.

The outside of his feet look good. The inside did, too, but I didn’t want to get that close, due to ye olde virus precautions.

I reckon he might have hurt himself a bit on rocks when he was pitching all those fits and not wanting to go anywhere. He also seemed to be favoring one of his shoulders, which could have happened when he was bouncing around on uneven ground. Now I wonder if his feet were already hurting then? Hindsight…

I always liked his stripey feet, even if light feet are more trouble. OOPS. I had to crop his happy “member” out of the picture. It’s a GP-rated blog.

Anyway, she’ll be back in another 4 weeks to see how things are going. Fiona also got a trim. She grows very long toe areas. All fixed now.

I always really enjoy these long times with my equine friends, and they seem to, as well. A great deal of mutual admiration is expressed.

Back to Balancing

I don’t think I want to change who I am and put my needs ahead of others or cause more of a ruckus than I already do. I am who I am. But, I think working to balance my own needs and goals with those of my family and others in my circle is a reasonable and attainable goal. Sticking up for myself and saying no to things that make me feel unsafe or anxious doesn’t mean I don’t care. I expect others to take care of themselves and THEN take care of others (like with airplane oxygen masks…remember planes?). I can do that for myself and it will be just fine.

Well, apparently today’s blog post was supposed to be a pep talk to me about myself. What a surprise (not a surprise at all.) But, I know I’m not alone in wanting a balance between my own needs and the needs of people I love. I’m not alone in getting so involved in someone else’s dreams that I lose my own.

I’m not all lost, I have my center and my spotted emotional support buddy.

All we can do is keep moving forward. I’ll find a way to meet my own needs while still supporting my inner circle. Both are important.

Is this balance easy for you, or hard for you? I think it really depends on our inner wiring, but who knows?

Suna the Hero or the Village Idiot. You Decide.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Lots going on in our little ranch village. [WARNING PHOTO OF DEAD ANIMAL TO FOLLOW]

First, when I came home yesterday afternoon after writing my magnum opus about my mother, there were vultures sitting on our “barn” container. I asked Lee’s brother, but he hadn’t gone over to check on it, so I did. Well, one potential bird killer has been eliminated from the area.

Lessons from Mom. Thoughts from Me.

Today I am babbling about freedom, rights and responsibilities from a personal perspective.

I’m 62 years and 4 months old. That’s the age my mother died. It took her a long time to do it, but she finally left her world of pain.

Mom as a little kid. Photo from my sister.

She died of lung cancer (spread all around), caused by a lifetime of tobacco use. She smoked through her pregnancies. She smoked while bottle feeding us Karo syrup or whatever poor people used to feed babies back then. She smoked in the car on every trip our family took. She smoked while cleaning the house, leaving long caterpillars of ash behind on the floor she’d vacuumed. She tried to hide her smoking. She’d smoke out her bathroom window. That led to the intake of our family room air conditioner. She smoked while on so much morphine that she didn’t see the burn holes in her polyester pajamas. It was her last pleasure. It was more important to her than her family or her own life.

I resented her for subjecting me and my family (especially my brother and dad) to her addictions. I wanted her love. She loved alcohol, pills, and tobacco more. Calling Dr. Freud!

I truly resented people who continued to smoke around me, knowing what my family had been through. What a relief when I could actually go to a restaurant or bar and not get sick from the smoke. What joy I found when my friends who were addicted started to only smoke outside, away from their children and elders.

I don’t blame the addicts; no one sets out to become addicted. But I sure am happy to see people behaving more responsibly about it. Sure, their freedom to smoke when and where they want to got taken away. And hey, not everyone they smoked around would eventually get sick. Not every smoker gets lung cancer, after all.

Nonetheless. Laws were passed and establishments made rules. Lots of people were pissed off, but they managed.

Today we have people who appear to care more for their right to potentially spread an extreme contagion more than they care for their families, friends, and communities. I hope it doesn’t take watching a loved one die because their lungs no longer work, like my family had to, to convince them otherwise.

Thoughts from me

Freedoms:

We’re free to drive cars, but not to run stop signs, speed, or go without lights after dark. We’re free to burn trash out in the country, but not when conditions are ripe for fire. We’re free to own guns, but not to shoot others just because it’s fun. We’re free to build a home, but not on someone else’s property. We’re free to worship as we want, but not to force others to do as we do. We’re free to love, as long as it doesn’t harm others. We’re free to hate, even in absence of good reasons to do so.

With freedom comes responsibility.

Note: I didn’t write this to judge you or anyone else. I am not telling you what to do. This is just to explain why I have strong reactions to things going on these days. People get to make their own choices. People have rights. With rights come responsibilities, though. It’s worth thinking about what responsibilities we all have to others.

Book Report: The Hidden Life of Trees

Take a minute to look at things from a long point of view. Reading (or just looking at) this beautiful book lets you leave the now and enter the enduring. I’m so glad we still have trees around to take care of us and the earth long term.

I’ve been reading a lot of Peter Wohlleben’s books, such as The Inner Life of Animals, which I wrote about in April of last year, and The Secret Wisdom of Animals, which I wrote about in June 2019. This one, The Hidden Life of Trees: The Illustrated Edition, is not the entire original book, but long excerpts from the original, punctuated with beautiful photographs of trees around the world. I bought this version for those photos (and eventually will read the unabridged book).

I admit that I am really, really fond of pictures of trees. I usually have one in my immediate environment, like here in my office.

My main tree image in my office, by Sean Wall.

My whole life I’ve been drawn to trees. My mother used to tell me how she’d find me in the yard chatting away to the huge live oaks surrounding our house. And I remember when I was able to visit my home town again after moving away, I insisted on visiting certain trees in what is now Tom Petty Park and the Duckpond area in Gainesville, Florida. Yes, I was always this way.

So, this book gave me a lot of pleasure. It’s not like someone went out and took a lot of great photos to add to the book, because most of them are iStock photos, according to the credits. Nonetheless, the photos were well chosen to accompany the text, so they brought me joy.

Here’s one beautiful photo from the book.

Of course, Wohlleben does a great job presenting fascinating research about trees in a format that any lay person can enjoy and be amazed by. Now that I know how trees communicate, I don’t think I’ll be planting one all by itself ever again. And that’s only ONE thing I learned.

The trees (and bunny) in our woods have lots of friends, and the downed trees are allowed to go back to the earth and provide nutrients.

I found myself reading a bit, then just lingering in the photos, imagining myself in those places, smelling the earth, hearing the wind in the leaves, seeing all the creatures the trees support. That’s worth the price of the book, right there! You can bet I’m going to keep that book on my coffee table, which is part of a tree, to dive into whenever I need to.

My other tree art in my office. It’s a watercolor by LE Martin, from 1995, which we found in the Rattlesnake house, unframed, in a cabinet.

Sunset Photo Shoot

Here’s another post high on imagery and low on content. Because I’ve been out as late as possible lately working with the horses, and because the dusty air has made for such pretty sunsets, I decided to do a fun exercise and take pictures of the barn residents and caretakers last night. Have fun with moody lighting and sweaty masked caretakers.