Lessons learned from bugs and bunnies (dead or alive)

In the last week the following things have happened in my outdoor domain - birds found and ate my tomatoes (now have to build a mesh enclosure over both seeds and established plants); earwigs attempted an assault on my basil (thwarted by dark beer, must get more tuna cans and dark beer); ditto for the unidentified pests who have a penchant for radish tops (note to self: figure out what those suckers are); pepper seeds failed to germinate (code word: "replant"); torrential rains caused all of the pea seeds to fill a few holes and sprout together there (now must untangle and replant); and a new cubic yard of dirt was delivered, but the fully loaded truck got stuck in the mud (many concrete blocks, spare chain, and two by fours later.... we called for help!).  Oh, and the cats have decided to bring their many gifts directly to the back door, in hopes of wooing the nearest serial killer (this week's tally - five small rabits, a few lizards; several field mice, and one mouse that was large I remain convinced it was conceived by a power plant).


On the indoor front, there are now chickens in the bathtub.


I am going somewhere with this... I think.  In all honesty, I am not completely sure.  Today, though, as I was making a list of things to buy during yet another trip to the feed and hardware stores, I realized that a) I will not get all of this done; b) I can't force more daylight, plants to grow, cats to stop killing things, or garden predators to move on; and c) that is okay.  The above three points are one definition of "patience."


Modern women are not forced to cultivate skills like patience.  We are told to go after what we want aggressively, decisively, and in designer footwear.  We may not know how to cook or bake, but we wield a Blackberry like no one's business.  We may never be taught to care for plant, animals, or other people, but we'll sign on the dotted line to buy houses, cars, and vacation flats without a man's money to back us up.  We are weaned on terms like "work-life balance," that talk a lot about work, give a brief mention of balance, and fail to mention our immortal souls.


I am not immune to the pull of progress.  It would be easy to immerse myself in work, dedicate every waking hour to someone else's whims, and dream of the things I will do "when I have time."  But now, on the cusp of a summer I will spend by myself, I am thinking a great deal about the skills we learn from others, the points that only nature can make, and the things that the internet will never share.


I learn when I am alone, the types of lessons that you learn when there is no one to rely on but yourself.  Lessons like how to trim an entire lawn with a weed whacker because you don't know how to fix the lawn mower and don't want to pay someone to do it; how to grill without a propane explosion; how to take a washing machine apart and how many towels it takes to clean up the water afterward; and how to cook, exercise, rest, and exist in a manner that makes you happy.  Lessons like how to grow food, feed my animals, and tackle garden challenges one at a time.


I am beginning to loathe the electronic leash that is my Blackberry.  It's a good feeling.

Putting down roots in the rain

I can think of better things to do when it's raining than garden.  But sometimes, a woman has to roll up her sleeves, jump into the mud, and make things grow.

I am thinking a great deal about gardens lately, as two weeks of building beds, hauling topsoil, and expanding further and further down the hill I live and plant on comes to a close (thoughts like how on earth am I going to maintain 300+ square feet of vegetables, fruit, and herbs by myself; where am I going to store this stuff when I start harvesting and processing in about a month; why won't the dogs stop trying to nap in the potato beds; and who really needs 4 rows of bok choy?).  Several thoughts in particular continue to strike me:

First, making things grow, literally and metaphorically, is a tremendous undertaking that demands physical and emotional energy, not to mention the courage to examine the spiritual.  This year I will grow herbs ("regular" and cinnamon basil, rosemary, marjoram, thyme, catnip, peppermint, stevia, three types of oregano, dill, cilantro, and a few others that escape me now); summer squash; winter squash; giant pumpkins; white pumpkins (why not?); yellow taxi, roma, steak, cherry, and "golden sunrise" tomatoes; jalapeno, serrano, and habanero peppers; green and stoplight bell peppers; lettuce, hot mustard, mild mustard, ruffled endive, arugula, and "fancy" mixed salad greens; kholrabi; bok choy; green and yellow onions; snap and sweet peas; radishes; fingerling, baby golden, and red potatoes; strawberries; key and mexican sweet limes; tangerines; grapefruit; lemons; and hopefully, almonds.  All of these plants must be cared for daily, harvested, then processed - either used immediately, canned, dehydrated, frozen, smoked, or some combination of the above.  This can be back-breaking, hand-hardening work.  This is work that provides for me, my animals, and my family.  This is work that provokes wonder and faith - to watch seeds grow, blossom, fruit; to rummage in the dirt while your animals frolic in the green that you nurture; to sleep sound in the knowledge that no matter what happens to WalMart, you are provided for... this is to know God.

I am continually amazed by the number of people who express surprise when I regularly choose my garden, my land, my animals, over the more traditional pursuits of those living in southern California.  These are the same people who click their tongues against their teeth and make disapproving noises at the blisters on my hands.  While sores from breaking the ground are not the most feminine thing, I can think of nothing more glittering and attractive than a woman who uses her body, her skills, her talents, and the resources around her for the good of herself and those she loves.  These are the signs of a country raising, that's true, but sure as I sit here, when fancy houses start sliding down hills, WalMart closes in the face of war with Asia, and prices rise until people pray the state will fall into the ocean, the country will need women who don't shy away from blisters, never stop in the face of a few burns, and aren't afraid to get their hands dirty.

 

A few garden views; the primary beds are here, on two levels, but there are several others scattered around.  Multiple smaller beds make upkeep easier and the workload more manageable.

What's the point of birthdays? Gratitude!

Yesterday I celebrated my first quarter century in this life.  It was fun, full, and completely unexpected. 

Like many, I often find myself bogged down in too much work and not enough play.  Running from job to job, debating major life decisions, worrying over the minor, it is a continual challenge to honor my relationships with the time and resources they need to flourish.  These relationships are, as my grandfather says, all that matter in the end.  I was reminded yesterday that love - whether it is between family, friends, people and animals, those together on a healing journey, or some other form of interaction - is a two-way street, and I am blessed beyond measure to be surrounded by men, women, children, and animals who believe the same.

To those who sent so many text messages and emails that my Blackberry battery gagged and said "enough" (then theatrically died in the middle of the night, begging for its charger); those whom I have met and those who I have not, but who called all the same and made me laugh; to the parents who shower me with gifts both tangible and otherwise; the friend who offered a rainbow of stones to wear around my neck and a bottle of wine with a Rottweiler on the label -


Thank you.  I am grateful for your offering and your reminder.  I love you, too.

With a grin and gratitude for a very happy birthday,
Jan

A Year of Inspiration Coming Soon...

For my first juggling act of 2010, in January I will move, travel 10 days for work, teach a large class, appear at another speaking engagement, present a booth at a festival, finish a powerlifting training cycle, help several friends ready for deployment, and celebrate my 25th birthday.

When merely looking at your appointment book can send you into peals of laughter (aside: I highly recommend Brush Dance if you are looking for a day planner, they produce inspiring, affordable products that are formatted for maximum use), it is probably smart to refrain from adding additional tasks to the workload.  What, then, to do about the obligatory "New Year's Resolution?"

I say "obligatory" because every good American, regardless of what we might say, feels some level of obligation to formulate a resolution, if for no other reason than to have something to talk about at New Year's Eve parties and avoid an appearance of the consummate lazy Western slob.  I am not immune, despite the realization that I am constantly formulating, revising, and achieving goals; despite the fact that I know winter is not the time we are physiologically wired to pursue ambitious new objectives; despite the knowledge that my proverbial plate is joyfully sliding all over the table as it is, and cannot tolerate one more task piled precariously on top before the whole thing goes crashing to the floor.  It's all fun and games to make resolutions until you lose your ability to hang onto any of them.....

As I reflected last night, bathed in the frantic, caressing glow of a blue moon and too much champagne, I realized that rather than thinking in terms of "tasks and goals," I can capitalize upon the New Year by thinking in terms of "attitudes and perspectives."  Adjusting, shifting, and refining my perspective at the beginning of 2010 will even enhance my ability to accomplish concrete objectives.  For instance, I intend to finish my first book by fall, an exploration of cyclical living and discussion of how and why such a lifestyle is vital to our ability to thrive.  With the workload outlined above, I often find myself stressed and anxious about how and when I will actually find time to write.  A nervous approach does nothing to help me tap into the fearlessness necessary to explore the topic, to share words and ideas and thoughts in full.  A harried energy distracts me from pursuing the experiences and people necessary to my continued development as a creator and an artist. 

Going further, to a more honest place, I will share that there are times I feel split into two as a result of stress and the demand that I perform and live in accordance with the strictures of modern society.  In constrained environments I can become defensive, overly aggressive, short.  I want to always be open, fierce but gentle, loving and light, courageous enough to follow my true path despite the doubts and scorn of others.  

How to cling to that courage?  I am not entirely sure, but as an artist I believe that an image always helps.  I have shared before that posting pictures of an ideal can help me achieve it.  Then I encouraged all to "Visualize the creative self while you are filling your space with inspirational objects, sights, and sounds. On the bulletin board above the desk where I write, wedged in between soaring landscapes, I keep a picture of myself on the Copper River with no makeup, camping hair, a sunburn, and an absolutely happy smile. A similar picture of myself is propped behind the easel where I paint. That is the me I want to be – that is the portrait of a happy, creative woman. That ideal, my ideal, reminds me to harness the energy of that woman whenever I pick up a pen or a paintbrush. Putting up pictures of yourself is neither modest nor socially acceptable, but it can be inspiring, and that is what matters."  I remain convinced, and first resolve to have enough adventures to be able to say, a year from now, "there is the picture of what I became in 2010." 

Also, in no particular order, in 2010 I resolve to:

- trust - the strength of my foundation, myself, and Spirit

- cultivate faith - in myself, my God, my visions, and my path

- walk - free of fear, without hesitation, and with a laugh

- remain - inspired, creative, happy

I'll keep you posted as I work to sustain these resolutions.  In the meantime, Happy New Year!