let kindness win

The baby ducks were a bit confused at first. Their mother decided to “fly the coop” and left them with a sitting auntie…I had thought the auntie’s eggs were not going to make it. But auntie sat and sat day in, day out until she noticed the little ones gathered around her. You could almost hear the brain ticking, “Those babies need to get outside. They need good green grass; they need fresh running water. They need guidance.”

So one day as the mom left the coop, the auntie realized she had another task – raising babies. Up she went, calling the young to her and outside they all went to the green grass, to the clean water. She has mothered them impeccably, nervously at times, but devoted – and still ever hopeful – she goes back at the end of each day to the eggs that will never hatch. And the babies huddle beside her.

And I ask myself why did the mother abandon her flock? She was an impeccable mother last year, even taking on one that had hatched in my hands days after she had left the nest wandering around with her brood. So what is the difference this year?

And I have to think, it was an act of kindness to the young auntie. Somehow the mother knew what I finally figured out, the auntie’s eggs would never hatch, and the mother opted to share. Each night and sometimes during the day she checks in to ensure all is well. And so do I.

Some will tell me animals don’t feel kindness. That is not a debate for me. Suffice it to say, I do. And the actions I witnessed touched the cord within me that makes my heart sing: kindness.

New pictures will be added!

We are flying over.
Because we can.
The phoenix has flown.
No more need for burning.
Doubts that eat us in sleep
and stalk in the light of day
are not worthy opponents.
We are so much greater than this.
We are flying over.
Because we can.

photo courtesy of Noho

I have been enjoying communicating with old friends on FB. People I have not seen in over forty years. Our lives have taken different paths for sure, but there is a thread of remembrance of our youth that binds us.

Perhaps it is our common beginnings, perhaps it is our age, but it seems we are working towards holding a line of respect amidst our differences. When I write to them, I am thinking of youthful laughter and play, shared dreams and friends too soon gone. I am acknowledging choices that we have all made, some away from the ways we were expected to be, others in lockstep. Most of all, I am trying to hold onto recognition of their humanity and to listen to them – while not losing my own.

We are walking together down the road of communication which often has slippery slopes. And they are teaching me. I do not have to fear ideas. I do not have to fear conviction. The only thing I have to fear is my own silence when words are needed. It is far too easy to put labels on people and ignore their humanity. It is yet another thing to allow elbow room for people to learn, feel and direct their own course. And it is yet again another thing to, with kindness and with clarity, maintain a boundary that leads to reconciliation.
We owe this to ourselves and to our children, to love deeply and to find a way towards peace.

Today with great certainty I wrote: We are only one step away from making a bit of heaven here on earth – and it is called kindness and it has a form called respect.

May it be. Make it be.

The picture is from my current home in Wisconsin, much like the hills of Pennsylvania where I grew up. It has become a gathering place for people of peace. I love that it reminds me of my first home. Photo taken by Kasia Siemaszko.

 

1. the process of coming into view or becoming exposed after being concealed

2. the process of coming into being, or of becoming important or prominent.

Trillium begins to unfold its delicate petals for all to see. The May apple hides its beauty to casual observance. Stinging nettles abundantly rise and there is oh, so much good packed into every bite, if you are willing…the beauty of spring… the dance of emergence.

And I marvel at my own willingness to shine. This is not a moment to cower in fear. This is the moment to celebrate. This is not the moment of doubt. This is the time of hope in action. This is not a moment of debate. Birth does not allow it. We are in a time of birth. We are in a time of emergence. That which has been concealed is made known. That which has been lessened is moving to prominence.

This is the time of the Good. It is not a time to waste in mediocrity. It is not a time to waste in the ignorance of old. This is now. This is new.

And it is oh, so practical. There is nothing more practical than peace. There is nothing more diligent than kindness. There is nothing more powerful than love.

Yes I am giddy with possibility. I am tasting the power of the human spirit and it is delicious. Please take away the plate of wrath. I have had my fill.

Today I know this: the seeds of good have been planted and are taking root. The shadow has no place in the sun. The spring rains are quenching the parched land and all will be well. In my heart and yours. In our lives and for our children, emerge.

 

photo compliments of Jan Kenyon

The grass crunches underfoot. That isn’t quite right for Wisconsin in April. Looks to be a dry spring…

I spent time today wrapping apple trees. The heirloom orchard is shared with the sheep, who learned from the goats that when grass is down tender bark is great to eat.

As I meandered through the orchard, I recalled a young man here as a woofer (www.wwoof-usa.org) who had wrapped these trees years before. He told me he was studying agriculture and business. I said, “So you may be the CEO of Monsanto one day.” He said, “Yes.”And I said, “Good, then I am really glad you are here.”

Throughout the week, we worked together. He was quick to point out ways to save time and make money. I listened. Then I would point out the joy in simplicity, the kindness to the animals and the land, the value of intention and the honing of being conscious…

When it came to shearing the sheep, he was left in disbelief. I shear my sheep with scissors. For one moment in time they get some corn and I get some wool. We both keep our dignity and our friendship.

There’s much more to stewardship than money.

The following spring the pressure was on and we were looking to create more cash flow, so I wrote my young friend for some business advice. His reply, “Don’t change Echo Valley. What I learned there has stayed with me. I think about it often.”

I guess kindness has its own currency. Perhaps it is nearing time to replace the old one. Count me in.

 

 

photo compliments of Noho

Spring is officially here. The sheep are eagerly chasing after fresh green grass. The dogs and Beauty, the handsome  mule, are sleeping in the warm sun.

I was out working on the tractor and thinking about “the family of man”. I was thinking of how similar we are in our hopes and dreams, in our longings, in our drive to make things better, in our need for peace. Acknowledging that I have been more inclined to celebrate our similarities then to fear our differences, I thought back to moments that probably made that so. Wondering where the phrase “the family  of man” came from, I remembered a book of photography I had as a child. It was filled with hundreds of pictures of people the world  over depicting the wonder and the struggle of the human family and I cherished it.

From my own little corner of the world, in a pre-internet era, I was given the chance to see people like me, but different,  with their strengths and their weaknesses, with their joys and their pain and I was touched. I remember feeling proud of this family. I remember wishing the best for this family. And I guess that has not changed for me.

I think there is a kind of tuning fork we all have inside of us that gets stirred by the right stroke. What it takes to ring that chime is a different for each of us and what may make my heart sing may be of little value to you. So it cannot be, look at this, think like this, behave like this and you will feel it…Rather to feel my heart singing let’s me know your heart is capable of singing, too.

Knowing that brings me great happiness and provides a certainty reminiscent of this moment in time. Regardless of the trials of winter, the spring is here, again. And that my friends is a most powerful weapon. Knowing that the heart can sing, is singing, in the family of man, regardless of our hardships. There is no need to bemoan what is wrong; there is just enough time to celebrate what is.

 

 

From The Family of Man a collection of photography gathered by Edward Streichen: “There is only one man in the world and his name is All Men.
There is only one women in the world and her name is All Women.
There is only one child in the world and the child’s name is All Children.”
– Carl Sandburg, an excerpt of his exhibition commentary

 

Photograph compliments of my friend, Jannet Chang

 

Every drop of love you feel stretches your heart to hold that much more.

 

Never forget the kindnesses extended to you. Don’t let them be buried in regret.

 

People extoll duty. I think it is a waste of time. Do what you do because it feeds you. Do what you do for the sake of Love.

 

If Love guides you, even mistakes turn sweet.

 

We are all connected. Never doubt the power of loving.

 

The Best Remembrance is Living Life to its fullest.

 

These are the meanderings on this day, the one-year anniversary of the passing of one who loved. Rest in Peace.

 

To all of you, may Love hold you. Every Breath. Enjoy.

I watch the sun rise, grateful to greet her again. Annie had said to me once, “Rise before the sun.” In those days it was a bit of a struggle, waking long before my mind thought it was a good idea. But as time progresses, I have grown to love being alert to greet my friend. I have come to excite in her summoning of the day and all the Beauty she will bring. And in the time before the dawn, in the quiet of my soul, I allow the cascade of characters, both living and gone, to remind me of the preciousness of Life, and I make my promise to fill this day with sweet moments. And so it goes.

While you are here, Love.

 

The Kickapoo Valley Reserve  had a fund raising event. Small canvases were given  to people to create art that messaged Nature and later the canvases were auctioned. The hand was my offering. The finer points of art have alluded me. The joy of living has not.