They say most domesticated sheep live between 10 and 12 years. Apparently, my sheep were never given the memo. I’ve had quite a few live to be eighteen. A lot happens in eighteen years. And although you may not speak the same language you share a common bond and understanding. So it happened that one of my old girls was down and barely breathing. It seemed the weight of her wool might have been a contributing factor, so we began shearing her. At first it wasn’t clear if we were doing much good, but as we finished, she attempted to get up. That was the first real sign of engagement. A little hay, a little corn, a little kelp and some water has to be followed by defecation and pee. That much I have learned about sheep.
She was rocked and massaged and coaxed and pushed until she stood. Shakily at first, but the light in her eyes told us she was in there and up for the fight. Walking took a bit more time, but gradually she made her way out of the barn. She wanted to be with the other sheep. That longing for companionship is something we all share.
It’s a delicate balance to know how much to do and when to hold back. You must pay close attention and not force your will. You must find the patience and the perseverance to ignore the voice that tells you “It’s useless” or “I can’t do another thing.”
Because in that ‘one other thing’ that you do, you may finally see the turning point.
Compassion is a powerful human trait with tremendous rewards. It’s not born of pity; it is a dignified response to the acknowledgement of life. Cultivate it.
We can end war if we choose. Choose peace.
let kindness win 