Relative Something

There are often times when I will share a thought or a comment with Cyndie and she will respond that I should make a blog post about it. A comment does not a blog post make.

Maybe if I string together a few of them, I’ll have something.

Yesterday, I was cleaning the paddocks while the horses were out grazing. In the morning, I had opened the gate to the area just outside the paddock, but left the arena closed until after I had given them their late-afternoon feed. Suddenly, Legacy came from the arena into the paddock, alone, and approached me. I paused for a moment to acknowledge him, and then returned to scooping up manure. He closed the gap and stood real close. I silently received his intimate presence.

After I again returned to my task, he deposited a pile of fresh manure for me, lingered a moment, then walked back out to graze. I told Cyndie that it felt to me as if he had come specifically to thank me for opening up the arena for them. The fresh pile was a secondary gift.

I am a regular Google news headline reader. I rarely bother with the links to full articles in avoidance of the frustrating ad windows and register-to-read situations that too often result. Some of the headlines can be real groaners, a few too many scream out, “Be AFRAID! All is Lost! Doom and Gloom!” Then there are those that shamelessly tease, leading on, but cutting short with an ellipsis, ending before giving…

Being a contrarian and an occasional optimist, I told Cyndie I created a game where I strike out key words of the gloomy, fear-inducing headlines and replace them with something more inspiring.

“U.S. officials fear radicalized citizens will carry out lone-wolf terror plots” becomes, “U.S. officials fear hope radicalized everyday citizens will carry out lone-wolf individual terror peace plots initiatives.” Film at 11:00.

Recently, I have been listening to Leon and Mary Russell’s “Wedding Album” and in particular, the song, Lavender Blue (Dilly Dilly). Their interpretation of this song includes the lyrics: “The longer we live —dilly dilly— the more love we know.” That really resonates for me, because each time I encounter new love, it feels fresh, invigorating, unique.

From that, the thought occurred to me that ‘hate’ never feels new. It is the same damn hate, over and over —from the time I was the target of hate as a little kid, spewed from a teenager who I was surprised even noticed I existed, to the homophobic/racist/misogynistic/religious zealot extremists making headlines today. Hate may spread, but it is never new. It’s the same stale hatred that it has always been.

Thank you. Now go forth and spread some new love with a bit of contrarian optimism yourselves. See if you can get people to…

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