Posts Tagged ‘Love’
Birthday Today
I don’t have enough candles for the cake I wish I’d already bought to mark the occasion of my partner in life’s crimes today but the years are just a number. Cyndie was born on this day some sixty-mumble years ago and that day is the most important day of my entire life, which didn’t even start until a year later.
We met as teenagers and somehow survived the myriad differences between us that never permanently broke the mystical attraction that drew us toward each other like the strongest rare-earth magnet in the known universe.
Whenever I pause to contemplate how special Cyndie is and how lucky I am that she has stuck with me through thick and thin, I feel a special appreciation for the therapist who saved us at a critical time in our marriage.
Every good thing in my life has come to me due to my relationship with Cynthia Ann (Friswold) Hays.
It makes the date of her birthday, June 4th, a day worthy of emphatic celebration! This year, however, we will be a bit subdued in our quarantine situation at home alone with Asher.
Cyndie has been making art and I have been serenading her with a shuffled mix from my music library while remarkable amounts of rain from thundering cloudbursts interspersed with bright sunshine are making life outdoors rather chaotic.
We will look back someday and reminisce about the year her birthday was so wet we needed paddle boards to navigate our trails.
I am so, so lucky that I get to be on this adventure with this marvelous person.
Happy Birthday, my love!
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Collective Action
What can I do about the ills of the world? My fallback attempt to make things better tends to rely on the age-old art of wishing. I wish wars would cease. I wish that criminals would never get away with it. I wish people wouldn’t fall for the rantings of lying politicians. I wish the world could figure out a way to adjust societies to function consistently year-round without moving clocks twice a year.
One belief I hold that is well within my abilities to practice and encourage others to take up is to practice LOVE with as much or more gusto as they do all the world religions. Drop all the centuries of concocted dogma and simply produce and share LOVE.
There is one dilemma where my solution of sending love as a fix may only be as effective as merely wishing for improvement: the over-cooking of our planet Earth.
My news feed recently led me to an opinion piece by climate scientist Bill McGuire offering, “If you knew what I know, you’d be terrified too.” It is posted on CNN.com and listed as a 4-minute read. I hope you will take the time.
https://www.cnn.com/2024/03/07/opinions/climate-scientist-scare-doom-anxiety-mcguire/index.html
The terrifying realities of the ongoing climate change underway are enough to scare people into doing nothing since it appears all is lost. Scientists who rant about the issue can get labeled as “doomers.”
I approve of Bill McGuire’s point that people can handle being scared and still rally to take action.
The bottom line is that many things in life are scary or worrying, from going to the dentist to noticing a potential sign of cancer, but ignoring them almost invariably results in something far worse happening down the line.
The key is finding a way to have hope. One of the ways to cultivate hope is by collective action.
There is a wikiHow that explains ways to become an Activist.
It will take more than simply wishing to solve all the ills of this world. Let’s all seek out a way to contribute positive energy toward groups of like-minded people, driving change that will lead to better outcomes for ourselves and those around us.
We all do better when we all do better. Paul Wellstone.
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Birdbrain Decision
You’d probably think my preeminent focus on LOVE above all other distractions in life would make February 14th a special day for me. Uh-uh. I generally refer to it in jibes at the marketing of it and other holidays aimed at coercing of consumers to spend their hard-earned sums of money on barely affordable things.
Still, I’m not above throwing out a “Be Mine” to sweethearts or favorite desserts every so often.
Maybe it’s hard for me because I love you all. That’s more cards, chocolates, and flowers than I can manage.
Today, I’m here to report the National Weather Service has issued a Winter Weather Advisory that includes our county and mentions SNOW ACCUMULATION! of 3 to 4 inches overnight tonight. I will not be holding my breath in anticipation, but if it falls and if it accumulates, that would be a welcome change, to say the least.
In preparation, I raked up some of the piles of leaves that had blown around outside the barn and ended up in places I shovel and plow after snowfalls. I hope that didn’t jinx the possibility of us getting a fresh white blanket over our landscape.
I also raked leaves so I could boast that I did so in the month of February. That is a first in my lifetime.
Is that a birdbrain decision? I don’t think so. That’s certainly not why I chose the title for today’s post. No, that comes from the behavior we observe of the pigeons that have chosen our barn overhang as their favorite place to be.
We are not fans. Their flapping and noisy footsteps on the metal roof, incessant cooing, and way too much excrement (on the horse’s placemats of all places!) put barn pigeons on our list of annoyances begrudgingly tolerated.
Recently, we have seen an increase in activity that has me thinking they may not be growing in number as much as I suspected. Their egg-laying decisions don’t seem all that compatible with procreation.
Maybe if it snows they will find the landing a little more forgiving but underfoot where horses are active seems to qualify for what people have come to mean by the term “birdbrain.”
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Our Realities
There are as many similarities between us all as there are differences. I don’t ever want to forget those differences when I write about my experiences. In the time since I retired from a day-job, my world has shrunk significantly to the 20 acres around our home for weeks at a time. A month can pass without a reason to drive my car.
That isolates me from lives that are dealing with issues that involve complications that rarely enter my mind. I don’t worry about where I am going to sleep at night. I don’t need to communicate with attorneys to solve spurious accusations. I don’t hear about problem bosses or annoying coworkers. I’ve yet to need to make doctor appointments for consultations about scary test results. I no longer struggle to get out of bed in the morning due to depression.
When I wax poetic about our experiences in the great outdoors with pets and nature at Wintervale, imploring others to seek health and cultivate love in their lives, I mean no disrespect to anyone who finds themselves struggling to cope with heavy demands consuming their precious energy.
We all have our own realities. I hope that on some level, the stories I post provide a brief escape to another place and a peek into one person’s life who strives for better health with a goal of inverting pyramids of dysfunction.
We watched the Grammy Awards Show last night and I got a heavy dose of reality about songs and performers whom I know nothing about. Those are worlds that are a mystery to me.
At the bottom of all things in our lives lies our commonality. In fact, one thing we all have in common is that we are all different from each other.
I recently found a quote about love from an interesting man named Wim Hof, a Dutch extreme athlete and motivational speaker:
Love is compiled by happiness, strength, and health.
If you radiate good energy because you are healthy, happy, and strong, that’s love.
Today, I am sending love to all who are experiencing stress that I know nothing about.
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Ages Advance
Happy New Year!
Since it is now the year 2024 I am going to do nothing different. It’s just the way I am. Step outside and look around, it doesn’t look any different than 2023. It’s different for the horses, though.
In a tradition dating back to the 18th century (ref), thoroughbred racehorses’ ages are incremented on January 1st. New Year’s Day is a 4-x birthday at Wintervale Ranch. The months of our horses’ actual births are February, March, April, and May, but their ages are bumped up on the first day of the year to standardize all horse ages.
This puts Swings at 29.
Next oldest is Mia at 24.
Light is 21.
Mix is 20.
In a rough comparison with human ages, Mix and Light are in their early 60s. Mia around 70 and Swings over 80. The average lifespan of a thoroughbred racehorse is 25-28 and with good care and healthy life, they can live beyond 30. I don’t know how much impact the hardships our four rescues may have endured in their lives will have on their ultimate longevity but we are offering them the best care we can while they are here.
None of them are showing any sign of slowing down.
I was just noticing yesterday that we have settled into a pretty consistent feeding routine with the new buckets by splitting them into specific pairs. There has been a lot less shenanigans between them after the feed is served. We continue to deliver Mia’s feed moistened and in a flat pan. The others seem reasonably satisfied with the buckets. I like that we’ve eliminated the mess of Light stepping in and kicking over the pan as she was prone to do.
Here’s hoping they continue to enjoy their lives with us in the year ahead. They are a big part of the love energy we strive to nurture.
May you discover new and increasing amounts of love today, this new year, and always. If you choose to set new intentions at the turn of a year, consider a supernatural dose of growing and spreading love in your goals.
It fits well with our salutations of making a new year happy!
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Rain Waves
I picked a good day to go to the movies yesterday, and not just because of the discounted tickets on a Tuesday. Overnight Monday we received such a thunderous downpour I fully expected to find washouts left and right. That didn’t turn out to be the case but then the wave after wave of sometimes frightfully heavy downbursts interspersed among periods of really rainy rain all day had local dry creeks flowing like rivers by the time I returned home.
I drove to Hudson on my own to see, “Killers of the Flower Moon.” The ticket cost me $5.50. A medium bag of popcorn costs $6.25.
On my drive to the theater, I found myself getting closer and closer to a wall of heavy rain ahead. Making my way inside before the heaviest rain fell, I headed directly to the restroom after purchasing my ticket. This movie is 3 hours and 26 minutes long. Need I say more?
The quality of the film lives up to the skill and experience of the people who created it. It feels wrong to find myself appreciating a film about such diabolic events in U.S. history. I’m glad the true story of multiple murders to steal the wealth of an Osage family who profited from oil on their reservation at the turn of the 20th century is getting told. Hopefully, it will keep alive a historical truth that plenty of people would rather not acknowledge.
There was a point during the movie when the roar of the deluge outside pounding on the roof of the theater briefly wrenched the audience’s attention from the cinematic world and then another time a little later when dramatic thunder claps didn’t seem to fit with the action on screen. It took some thinking to separate the two events going on at the same time.
It also takes thinking to comprehend the violence occurring in the world today is tragically similar to countless human casualties perpetrated throughout time. It seems hard to believe the human race hasn’t been able to grow more enlightened than what is represented by deadly conflicts that continue to exist to this day.
Those of us beaming waves of love to the world are going to need to up our game somehow to create hope that a tide can be turned with unprecedented global results toward ending human atrocities.
Imagine beams of love that rain down in waves able to wrench our attention from killing “others” and overflow hearts with visions of peace.
Amen.
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Anniversary Heart
We received an invitation to a 25th wedding anniversary party for our friends, Joyce & Doobie Kurus, which inspired me to start a new heart sculpture before I finished the one already in progress. A little interlude for a change of pace.
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I chose a piece of American Hornbeam that I have been looking forward to working with for a long time. When we cut up this downed tree I saved much of it in the barn and shop for future use because the shape and grain were so enticing.
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Like so many times before, I was drawn to retain some of the raw bark to provide contrast to the other highly finished surface area.
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The wood was great to work with and has me very excited for the next opportunity when I will be able to sculpt another piece of the American Hornbeam I have stashed away.
I appreciated having Joyce and Doobie’s special occasion to think about while I worked on this heart. Somehow, I let myself start on another inspiration before getting back to my melting heart out of a piece of maple, so I currently have two in process at the same time, neither of them out of American Hornbeam. I’m experimenting with creating a shape that reflects a twisted heart.
If I like what comes of this first attempt, I hope to try a larger version from Hornbeam. All while simultaneously seeking to make progress on the tricky part of my melting heart.
Making all these hearts has got to be adding to the love that exists in the world. I don’t really need any more inspiration than that.
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What Love
Cyndie went to see The Chicks in concert at the grandstand at the Minnesota State Fair last night. You need to buy a ticket to the fair to get to the grandstand so she got a chance for a little taste of the fair. Last year we went in the middle of the week with anticipation of touring the barn to see some horses. Making our way slowly toward our goal we came upon closed doors and access denied signs because they were cleaning the barn that day.
It didn’t take her long to find horses last night. This is the first picture she sent me after her arrival:
I was home and in charge of keeping the dog out of trouble. I didn’t score very high in that regard.
My session of being in charge started badly enough when I found him standing in the middle of the fenced-off compost area eating fresh manure that I’d dumped in there earlier in the day. The perimeter fence was perfectly intact so he must have simply leaped over it. I’m beyond caring at this point.
I opened the fence to let him out, appreciating his obvious posture of acquiescence telling me he understood he wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t think he has a clue that we don’t want him messing with manure but that’s another issue.
After that, all went perfectly as I finished mowing and he lolled about patiently. He stayed in the house and out of trouble while I tended to the horses and put equipment away in the shop garage. I was able to shower and have dinner while he lazed around and entertained himself in a manner that was nothing short of ideal.
When I took him outside for the last time of the day, I gave him a reward for his good behavior and tossed balls for him to chase until he tired out. I tried coaxing him toward the house by moving our play to the front yard. I was getting eaten alive by mosquitos and was desperate to get inside. Asher still wanted to play.
I threw more toys for him to chase in the front yard until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I went in and watched him through the glass storm door. He chomped on a few toys, ran off into the woods for a time, came back, laid around for a bit, then disappeared again.
He showed up soon after with the filter from the pond pump in his mouth and started tearing it apart. He had pushed down the fence Cyndie erected around the pond and made a mess of things back there in a few seconds of chaos while I waited inside the sunroom door.
I give up.
I forgot. Why did we get another dog?
Cyndie brought me a souvenir from the fair. She got in long after I was asleep so I got this treat for my breakfast this morning. What a love she is.
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Favorite Antidepressant
First of all, the weather yesterday was idyllic. That alone goes a long way to soothe a person’s angst. Beyond that, my favorite antidepressant is getting outdoors for exercise with a group of people who I know and love. I have known most of the people who showed up to ride for almost thirty years from the annual June bike trip called the Tour of Minnesota.
Our route along the Dakota Rail Regional Trail took us right past the home of my good friends, Mike and Barb Wilkus, so I brought a bunch of the riders off the trail to say hi to Mike.
He opened his garage to show us the camping trailer he was packing for a little getaway they have planned.
My biking group did this same warm-up ride last year but I failed to realize we were going right past the Wilkus’ place. Upon figuring it out, Rich Gordon and I stopped to surprise them. This year, I warned Mike that I’d be coming by, not mentioning the part about bringing 8 other cyclists with me.
The other thing we did yesterday on the ride was revisit a stop at the Big Stone Sculpture Garden in Minnetrista. A number of us reenacted last year’s pose in front of the word Love carved into stone.
We pedaled and visited for 30 miles which served to rekindle my deep appreciation for these precious friends.
Thank goodness Rich is adept at capturing pictures of us as we ride. Thanks for all the photos, Rich!
The joy of biking with these folks is the primary reason I have returned to the annual June biking and camping event year after year. Yesterday served as an excellent primer to inspire my preparations for the trip that will start in Albany, MN this year. Riding the country roads around my home all by myself isn’t as rewarding but getting in some preliminary hours on the saddle always goes a long way toward minimizing discomfort for a week of riding in the middle of June.
NOT having sore butt bones when you will be riding day after day is also an antidepressant, if you know what I mean.
I would be even happier if the week in June isn’t rainy or stormy, but I won’t frame that as a requirement. I’ll throw that inspiration out there as a potential bonus.
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Day Early
Happy Mother’s Day!
We celebrated with a brunch yesterday morning for which Elysa contributed some special focaccia bread she baked after starting her day at the farmer’s market.
Cyndie prepared waffles and as we sat down to feast, she decided she wanted to take a group photo to capture the occasion. Her unpracticed attempt to figure out how to frame the photo to include all of us and her face became a comical fiasco that had us all laughing so hard, especially Cyndie, that our expressions turned out ridiculous. Elysa stepped up to save the day and helped her capture the moment.
We shared a precious day of hanging out and honoring the priceless bonds nurtured by a couple generations of really great moms.
Moms sure do ROCK! Virtual hug to you all today!
Here’s a lone trillium blossom from our woods in celebration…
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