Archived September 2005 Rainy Day Thoughts2

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Place II

Earlier I wrote about 'place' because it's on my mind but not simply as a piece of land. At nearly 62 years old, I find myself in the unexpected situation of being uncertain about my place or purpose in life. What the heck went wrong? Is this not supposed to be the age of passive reflection, sitting back enjoying the fruits of your labors, grandchildren on your plump lap, mellowing out into the end years while you play bingo? Has the world changed or was that never how aging was?

When I reached official old, which I am not sure where that begins but sometime after 60 probably, I felt like a person who got there and found out there had moved. I am by pretty near any definition old. Heck, I could apply for Social Security this year which must mean at the least my government defines me as old. I have seen some newspaper articles where it refers to the elderly woman being attacked and find out she's only 64. That's elderly? If so, what is left waiting when I get to 80? Do we have a word for elderly elderly? I won't argue about being old though. After all, I can get into some movies at the matinee price, eat at a few restaurants on the senior menu, and even get a pass to the national parks that lets me in for the rest of my life for $10. But if this is old, it's not what I expected.

I had a male friend who said (much to his later chagrin although he has never admitted he was wrong) that no woman was sexy over 50 (a mark I long ago passed). Perhaps sexiness equates to fertility and although it's not impossible for fifty something women to have children, it's rare. I think though he was referring purely to looks. If you can't look sexy, you definitely must be old-- and that would have been starting at 50. Now he was not saying beautiful was impossible, but just that juicy, make a man want to bed her, sexy look.

So now the fact that one man might no longer see me as sexy, doesn't mean I couldn't be; but it means I am not seen as being-- by at least him and he's not alone in his thinking or why would guys want porn magazines filled with 20 somethings (or younger) and why would actresses over 40 have a hard time getting starring roles as anything other than moms? Does that matter? In a word-- yes!

In the realm of justifying that I really don't care-- when I do-- I can tell myself that however others see me, I can still experience all of those young juicy feelings when I write fiction or do a sculpture or painting but what about me? Am I ready to give up being sexy? Not that this is totally my choice as age has a few dictates we can't ignore no matter how much we want to.

Some women have plastic surgery in an attempt to hang onto sexiness but it doesn't work. They can have plastic Barbie doll faces and mouths that pout way out when they never did in their youth, they can find it impossible to smile or frown, but can they look sexy doing that? Nope. Sexiness is the opposite of plastic. Sexiness is moving and alive, filled with passion. Plastic is not.

Another question comes to mind-- is it even appropriate for a sixty something to want to be 'sexy'? Is there something... well unamerican in that? It's certainly true that we can look ridicuous when we try to be something that goes against our age. So the mini-skirted grandma with a smooth face, wrinkled neck and hands seems more to be pitied than admired. I think maybe sexiness when we are old has to have a new way to be described, and it is not trying to duplicate a 20-something.

But, yes, I admit it. I still want a man to look at me now and then and be wishing he could bed me, not wondering if I need help getting across the street. I guess it's all about finding new ways to define myself that stay true to where I am living, not kid myself as to who I am and what cycle of life this is; but it is also accepting my grandma's way of being old is not going to be mine.

"Where we choose to be-- we have that power to determine our lives. We cannot reel time backward or forward, but we can take ourselves to the place that defines our being." Sena Jeter Naslund.

Is place important to who we are? Some would say no and that we bring us with us wherever we go. Others know it's the core of their being. In this Oregon valley where I live, there are people who have never lived anywhere else, have barely been out of these valleys. For some, their parents were born on the land they still occupy. My roots don't go that deep but I have lived on this farm nearly 30 years. It is not where I grew up and I have nobody here who can remember me as a child. I am a transplant and for many people, the farm on which I live will always be known by someone else's name as part of the continuity of place.

This valley was settled by Sebastian, who had fought Indians and been to the goldfields, decided to settle where it was far enough from other people that he felt it'd be a good place to raise cattle. He filed for his homestead in 1850; then wrote his brother, John, suggesting he join him. John, his wife and their four daughters set out on a wagon train in 1852. It sounds romantic to think of people heading west that way but some stories ended in tragedy as did his. His oxen were getting out of control, he stepped down from the wagon to settle them, lost his footing and was crushed by his own wagon, buried along the Platte River in an unmarked grave. Sarah could have gone back to Missouri but opted to head on for the land her brother-in-law had written about. When she arrived at the primitive cabin Sebastian had built, he was gone off to the goldfields again. The local story goes that she did find $50 in the pockets of his pants when she set out to wash them. When Sebastian returned, he found the situation had changed. Sarah filed for her own homestead as she was entitled as a widow; and two years later, the brother and the widow hooked up (probably not an appropriate term for the times), married and whether it was convenience or not, they produced 4 more children-- three of them sons. They are buried in the family side of the country cemetery on the hill above the church. Although their original home is gone, the harness shed, the old barn, stories, and the remnants of the ford to cross the creek are still here.

This valley is easy to love with its stream meandering up along the fields, hills behind that stretch eventually to the ocean, the slopes of which are logged when not covered in fir or oaks. The elk come down through the valley above here on their circuit. Bear live higher on the hill and cougar and coyote a bit closer. Sometimes in walking up the hill, a golden eagle shrieks its disapproval at invasion of territory. Beaver and raccoon make their living along the creek.

Does this place define me? No, but country living has been an important part of what does for most of my life.

Spirituality

There are two things that I am constantly being told you don't talk about because they only lead to arguments-- one is politics and the other religion. They happen to be my favorite topics but I generally do stay away from them unless I am with friends who are comfortable with my rather offbeat spiritual beliefs as well as my very strident political ones. I wrote something on politics in here earlier, not my personal beliefs although they are probably obvious from other things I have written. I thought long and hard about the spiritual ones on whether it was limiting to mention them. I decided they are a strong part of who I am and right now one of my major interests. So here goes at the risk of offending someone. I do respect that we can all have different spiritual views and still be okay. I do not believe the spiritual path I have taken is right for everyone but I also do not believe it's wrong for me.

The thing that triggered this was another of those right wing, so-called Christian fundamentalist e-mails that came in this morning. The person who sent it to me means well but frankly these things are offensive to me-- even though I define myself as a Christian. This one was how we are not doing enough for church because we are lazy or shallow (not the exact wording but the gist) and if we truly love God, we will pass this onto all our friends or enemies thereby insuring more spam. I am sure God is concerned that I didn't pass it on I don't know how my friend thinks about my reply back to him regarding it. Frankly I disagreed with every premise that the e-mail purported to state as truth, but I'm used to that as, in my opinion, a lot of those who call themselves Christians today have lost all track of what Christ taught and are busy with current political agendas like abortion and gays. Those are convenient as if fundamentalists start worrying about greed, they might have to look to their own lives but as long as they are kept busy with criticizing someone else for their lifestyle choices, they can avoid the pride, hate and bigotry that might (or might not) be impacting their own life, that even might be why a lot have been turned off on religion (and not just Christian). You cannot tell someone else to live with love while you wallow in hate. Yes, I know, I was ranting.

Anyway back to my premise here: my own spiritual life and practices such as they are. I consider myself someone who is very spiritually concerned, live my life as best I can with love toward everybody (except the guy who cut me off in traffic but he didn't deserve it-- well and maybe a few others who ae equally bad...). Okay, I try to live with love-- that does not mean ignoring consequences when appropriate. (how's that for justification) It's my goal because I believe Christ narrowed down the rules to two-- love god and love others. It all comes down to learn to live with love-- not the easiest thing in a world that is spewing hate and fear all the time.

I do not belong to any religious body at this time. I'd like to say that it's because they left me, not me them, but that's obviously how I see it and maybe not how it is. I am comfortable with my own learning path for spiritual things. I find spiritually minded friends, books and teachers wherever I go but they tend to come and go in and out of my life and come from many traditions. I know I could be doing more to grow spiritually, but I am doing what seems right for me now. I am very unorthodox for someone who calls herself Christian (some would say I am Bohemian in my thinking-- even me). What's unorthodox? Well, I am exploring what I believe about reincarnation (that's been going on for a few years now); I believe astrology can impact us but is not all there is; am interested in goddess/god worship in many forms including paganism; see God in everything-- not just the chosen few; meditate when I think about it but not regularly; and do Tarot when I want insights from my inner self or spiritual guides (not sure who those spiritual guides might be but I do feel that presence with me and have since I was a child). I do not tend to judge others unless they are hurting someone else by their practices. I do not claim to know what is the ultimate truth and feel seeking my own life purpose is enough challenge without trying to figure out why God began this (yes, i believe in a creator). I am content to accept life is a mystery and the purpose of it all might be beyond me at this time. There are times that I thought I knew what the ultimate truth was but this is not one of them. Maybe this has been my time in the wilderness and I am okay with that also. I might someday be back into a church. I enjoyed my many years in them, actively so but at the moment, they don't seem to be speaking to me in a way that lets me go back and I am enjoying the freedom to explore various traditons and ways.

And if you are one of my friends, you already know all of this especially that I am not fond of guilt intended e-mails...

Monday, September 19, 2005

fall

Fall is coming fast to the farm, the smell and feel of the air is changing. Leaves beginning to turn and the land waiting expectantly for the rains which have yet to come enough to green things back up. My own mood has been falling as I face my least favorite season. Yes, fall is beautiful but it is the time of the little death when the leaves fall from the trees, where hunting season means be careful what color you wear when out walking, and it means winter is right behind with those long, dark, gray days.

Here on the farm the time to sell stock has arrived and can be put off no longer. We raise beef and sheep on this grass, and I love both creatures. What I don't love is this time of year when the young adults must be sold off for meat. I reconcile myself to it because I couldn't have these animals at all without raising them for others to consume. They are way too big to be pets, and they multiply in ways that would be frightening if you didn't sell the young. I feel proud we are part of the agricultural community and glad to raise a healthy product that others need, but it doesn't make it one bit easier when this season rolls around.

This year it's been made worse by my sadness over the abandonment of so many animals in the Gulf Coast disaster. I feel sympathy for the pain of those who had to leave behind their pets, but I feel more for the poor animals who had someone who cared for them and suddenly don't. It was a terrible situation with no good answers at certain points, but it leaves me incredibly sad for the animals-- as I feel for my own animals right now with the knowledge that those Peck's bad lambs, who got out every chance they found, soon will be leg of lamb.

At one time we sold our stock through auctions and that was even worse. Then they were trucked off to a strange building where they were put into an arena, sold (often at way less money than we expected); then carted off again to a feed lot which to anyone who knows what they are like is a long way from a beautiful pasture on the edge of a small stream, with lots of fresh grass and a mother and herd who care about their well-being. It's also necessary for big producers as the American consumer does not in general want grassfed beef. Never mind that it's healthier. People got inducted into grainfed fat beef because it made money for the corn and grain producers and money is what matters more than health or pretty much anything else in our culture.

One year, we had had enough. We are small producers, not big ones and we have an option. We can sell direct to the consumer. It is a lot more work but worth it because at least now, the steers live a good life up until the moment when the bullet hits their brain and ends it. I still don't like the fact that death is part of this cycle but have reconciled myself to the need of people for healthier meat, which ours is, and the fact that the animal gets the best deal possible from it. It's still a hard season and one of these days, when the mobile slaughter unit arrives to do the deed, I will remember the words the Native Americans often used before battle-- It is a good day to die, and try to convince myself it is.

Canyons

Canyons can be beautiful things, inspiring and moving to the soul but they can also block passage. It seems to me, there is a canyon between a lot of us when we try to discuss important issues. It starts with what our world view is, what we see as the essence of the cosmos, who we believe god is, but it goes to how we were raised, what we consider good manners (if we even remember what that means), how important we think we are, how we see others, how we see our responsibility to life. I could go on but the end result is often impossible communication between a whole sector of people.

One example is discussing apocalyptic, natural catastrophes. If you believe that god intervenes in nature, that he answers prayers, then how you see the Tsunami or a hurricane like Katrina are impacted. You go looking for what have you or they done to let god make this happen or maybe you just say you don't understand the reason but there had to be one and it was good. You might come up with it's about sin and something that you can change or make others change to prevent this again. If you see the world this way, something like global warming will not be seen the same as someone who believes god is there but there are natural laws and consequences. Global warming might not seem like much of a problem if you believe that the end times are here anyway. If you believe in a natural world where you can learn rules and use them to protect yourself, you will work to learn scientific laws to put to use. You will be very upset when others are not willing to fund such studies or use the results once answers have been found-- as you see it. If you believe this is all about god, maybe you might go looking for a seer or prophet to tell you what to do to protect yourself, how to manipulate the physical world through the spiritual-- and if that means throwing a virgin into a volcano, well you do what you gotta do.

The problem is can the person who believes magic can fix anything going wrong really communicate with the one who believes that it's all natural events, god didn't do it and you must do what you can to fix it knowing that sometimes it's beyond you and you have to ride it out or move.

So many of these major differences are in my conversations with friends these days, and it seems to make any hope for communication impossible. Another example is political. If you see George Bush, the American president, as being a good man, spiritually driven, under God's influence, trying to fix an immoral America, who does everything he can for the good of this nation, you will never see eye to eye with someone who sees him as a selfish, shallow man who is being told what to do by others, who is governing to benefit the rich because he is among them and figures what's good for his class has to be good for everybody's--a man whose true religion is supply side economics not Christianity.

How do people who see the world so differently talk to each other in a reasonable manner? Most of us don't go to the extremes I used; but for religion or politics, we do have a certain world view that makes it hard to get past. You can chitchat when you meet with someone with a very different worldview, but what does it take to reach a point where you can talk meaningfully about huge differences and both come away at the least better able to understand the other?

What bothers me most in all this is the temptation to gather together with like-minded people. The more we listen only to those we agree with, the more we think there is only one way to think. That canyon between us and 'others' grows even deeper. Is there any way to fix it?

To Refresh

I have this yearning right now to be where the sky is big, the land open and not blemished by man's touch-- needful as that touch sometimes is. I'd like to smell the sage, feel the prairie wind in my hair. I'd like to forget for a moment that I am who I am and just be one with the earth. Be where the sky becomes as important or more so than the land beneath, where it speaks to you with gentle or fierce voices and you know somehow that whatever is troubling you is less important than you thought.

The closest I can get to that at the moment though is looking through my pictures, remembering the times in the Big Sky country and listening to the soundtrack to Legends of the Fall.

I am lucky the memories linger in my head. I sometimes think we only do things to have the memories become part of us, that the doing is not more important than the lingering effect on our souls. Some say live in the moment but the moment is part and parcel of all we have been and done. It's not just what we see in front of us but all that lingers within and that we can see when we close our eyes. The moment can likely never be as big as the memories we take away with us and can call back whenever we need to refresh our souls and be somewhere meaningful with someone we love.

So for just a moment I am not sitting at my keyboard but am instead at a trailhead in the Absaroka Mountains and I feel the edginess of knowing the unknown lies ahead. Might a grizzly be down the trail? A big elk? or just a view that will make me catch my breath?

Tangles

I feel like this about now. Like the world with the set rules, the I know this for sure part is all jumbled up. How many fiction movies have I watched where civilization falls apart and through the anarchy, a few people band together to create a hell and a few more to create a heaven? Today I have been reading it in my newspapers about New Orleans last week and it sounds like all of that fiction except it was real. All that has been happening while my life seemed to be more or less normal.

Or is that even true? I cannot pick through my own choices either and I feel like I'm in a tangle rather like this tree. I head down paths that seem to be right but end up dead ends. The tree, despite its seemingly tangled path is heading toward the light. I can only hope I am doing the same although at times it seems unlikely.

I would try to reason through it all-- the world, me-- but it's easer to just accept-- it's a tangle. Sometimes there is nothing to do but to accept the current reality while working toward straightening ourselves out-- if we get the chance.

I could cry right now and maybe I will-- later.