GARDEN SEEDS AND ME

Do you ever wonder how the seeds people plant feel about being planted?  Are they eager to be buried in earth?   What would such eagerness require?  I know Carol thinks deep thoughts as she goes about the garden this week.  She talks to the seeds and I think that must comfort them.

Does plant knowledge prevail over fear in the baby seeds as they disappear into the ground?  I wonder about that and I don't feel quite so afraid of what is going on in myself.   I get afraid because my eyesight is not better.  I get confused about where I am and the whole world seems to be in my way with a loss of direction.  People have to help me get going in a safe direction again.   I don't think people help the seeds find their way.  Do I have it in myself to find my own way?

FUELED BY GOD

I have written a poem to celebrate how I feel about all the expressions of God's life all around me.  It was inspired by Gemma, my goat sister, giving birth to twin kids, a boy and a girl on 5/14/2010.  (By the way, her mother, Nibbles, had twin boys two weeks ago -- but she's done this before so no big deal.)

PENTECOST 2010

Land of 40 acres,

pond, grasses, trees,

wild birds, pheasants and deer.

Little goat,

first-time mother,

bearing, caring for kids

perfectly

without lessons!

Sunrise, moonset, always on time;

stars overhead directed by seasons;

wind song, crickets and frogs.

Clare's Well,

what's this responsiblitiy

humans claim to have for you?

With cats and Collie who know your boundaries

and speak your name,

you thrive on creatures

fueled with God's DNA.

CAN'T DO - CAN BE

Blindness.  I don't think I will ever get used to it.  I have had to let go of doing my jobs:  going on long walks with Clare's Well guests is what I miss most.  I no longer find my way home when I get turned around.  I bump into things everywhere.  People who are trying to protect me from hurting myself sound distressed.

I'm at my best when I just lie down and rest close to where others are.  I am reluctanty moving from doing into simply being.  Do you think I'm still of value?  When guests arrive, I'm still the first one they reach out to touch.  That's a comfort, but . . . . I need more time to digest the changes I'm going through.  Do you have any suggestions to help me continue to grow into a mature dog?

OF TOLERANCE

Speaking of tolerance, Lily, the barn cat, has taken over the yard since I can no longer see her.  I hear people saying how nice it is to have her out and about.  What should I make of that?  She comes out only because of my handicap.  She is better off because I am down and out.  Her well-being is relative to unfavorable factors in my well-being.   

Well, I suppose you'd expect such a relationship between antagonistic canine and feline species.  What about among other creatures?  Does what is good for one depend on something being not so good for another? 

When I do cozy up to one of the other cats who aren't afraid of me, people get out their cameras.  They say, "Isn't it great that they get along with each other?"  If I had a camera, I could photograph people of different races being friends.  How is it for you?  Do you notice when physical differences don't matter in relationships? 

I have a lot of time to think about Lily these days.  How would things be different between us now if I hadn't been so aggressive toward her when I could see?