The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.
~ Albert Einstein, "What Life Means to Einstein"
I love this quote and everything it says.
So many problems are solved by letting go of rational thought and allowing intuition to step in and offer different answers.
It's the rational mind part of me that gets so frustrated and tangled and wants to wrestle with things that aren't right or that I don't know.
The intuitive, imaginative part of me relaxes and then soars as all the mind-churning stops, I reside in the moment, and then what I need to know just seems to pop into my thoughts like iridescent bubbles.
Not sure why this popped into mind for today, but since it did, here it is. A reminder.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Sunday, August 08, 2010
more bear
This toy has probably not been played with in years; Bear found it within a few minutes and trotted all over the living room with it:
Here he is with his chewy bone. He enjoyed it until he made the mistake of bringing it to the bedroom onto Kyra's sleeping blanket. He laid it carefully down and when he came back to find it, it was gone. Guess who took it to her special hiding place and crunched it down to nothing? :)
This is who! She was so captivated by Bear yesterday when he first arrived. She has done nothing thus far but accept him happily. When she wants a break she goes upstairs. For now, that works...!
This is one of the portrait shots. He has such an engaging face. There are a ton of photos like this, in different places around the house and yard:
Another of the portrait series:
He's had another full day, but time for naps as needed. I think he's having a growth spurt today!
Saturday, August 07, 2010
the little bear
Once upon a time there was a little bear. Actually he was a Corgi puppy. And he came to live on November Hill.
First he met Kyra Corgi, who gave the international Corgi sign for thumbs up - a wagging hind end, some conversation, and a romp.
Then he was ceremoniously welcomed by Moomintroll Cat, who walked through the living room, the laundry room, out the cat/dog door, through the back yard, sniffed noses, and then gave the little bear a resounding smack with his polydactyl (and declawed, not by us) paw. Now that boundaries were clear, the rest of the cats said a very begrudging hello.
After that the little bear underwent an hour of pupparazi - at one point three cameras were clicking at one time. What's a young handsome bear to do? He found a safe place to get away from it all for a moment.
First he met Kyra Corgi, who gave the international Corgi sign for thumbs up - a wagging hind end, some conversation, and a romp.
Then he was ceremoniously welcomed by Moomintroll Cat, who walked through the living room, the laundry room, out the cat/dog door, through the back yard, sniffed noses, and then gave the little bear a resounding smack with his polydactyl (and declawed, not by us) paw. Now that boundaries were clear, the rest of the cats said a very begrudging hello.
After that the little bear underwent an hour of pupparazi - at one point three cameras were clicking at one time. What's a young handsome bear to do? He found a safe place to get away from it all for a moment.
When Kyra Corgi stole his brand new chewy bone and made away with it, the little bear found something even better:
He found one of Chase Corgi's old tennis balls and immediately took right to it. And what he did next was actually captured on film, but the crazy film lady took it sideways and can't figure out how to rotate it. So you'll have to turn your head sideways to see.
I do believe he is smarter than the average bear!
The end of a long day for a little bear:
Welcome, Bear/Tristan to November Hill!
The End
(but of course this is just part one - more and better photos coming soon!!)
Friday, August 06, 2010
soldiers in the storm
I really wanted to title this post Fire and Rain, because in a way that's what it was!
Yesterday our temps went back up the thermometer to the mid-90s, and the heat index was over 100 again. I knew the temps were supposed to drop today, but I wasn't expecting such a dramatic weather event yesterday.
I spent time in the morning doing some extra chores - dewebbing the feed/tack room, doing some deeper cleaning in a few spots, and making sure there was plenty of clean, fresh water for horses to drink.
After a quick trip to the feed store and farmer's market in the afternoon (we got peaches and blueberries, Asian pears grown locally, cucumbers, baked goods, home-made picante sauce - to go with our continuing dragon tongue beans, tomatoes of all colors, sweet peppers in two colors, and basil) I went out thinking I would give Salina a full bath, offer showers to the geldings, and let the horses graze for awhile before the night-time thunderstorm hit.
Even when bathing Salina, the skies began to darken, and by the time the geldings had been hosed, stalls picked, wheelbarrow dumped, waters checked and topped off, I realized the storm was going to hit sooner than later, and that I would need to serve hay and then cover the round bale.
By this time the wind was picking up, and the pinwheels I'd stuck into compost piles earlier in the day were spinning wildly.
It's amazing how much the colors shift when a storm is coming. The warm and brilliant green shifts to a darker, more silvery shade, and the light-colored undersides of the leaves blowing in the wind add to the effect.
The wind whipped up strong and Salina and the donkey boys trotted in from grazing the barnyard to the shelter of the barn. Keil Bay, Cody, and The Little Man were standing out in the paddock, enjoying the sudden coolness and the big breeze lifting their manes and tails. I'd opened the back gate earlier so they could graze, but realized with the storm so imminent I'd better close it again. So I ran past them. They of course followed, but when I called out that I was closing the gate, Keil and Cody stopped. The pony kept coming - he's always game for some grazing, no matter what. But I got the gate closed and then they all came forward and stood by me in the wind, putting me in the middle of the herd. I gave them each a pat and a rub on the shoulder, and went back to finish my chores.
Back in the barn, I checked windows and doors and made sure everything was latched (not closed, but just secure, so we'd have no banging in the wind) and then went out to cover the hay. I got the big tarp on, but the wind was wild by that time, and the tarp was literally lashing from one side to the other. In a crazy fleeting moment of thinking I could boss the wind itself, I called out "Stand" and held my hand up the same way I do if I need one of the horses to stay put. Even more crazy, the tarp stopped flapping and the wind stilled long enough for me to get something on top to weight it down.
Dickens and Mystic, brave cats extraordinaire, were literally lying flat out in the open, gazing up at the show.
I lingered awhile with the horses. Salina and the donkeys had gone to the little barnyard where they were grazing, waiting for the rain to hit before they came back in. The geldings had lined themselves up three abreast in the paddock, facing away from the barn in the direction of the storm, as though they were a united front protecting us from what was coming.
It made me remember a day when we had just moved in, when the skies grew dark and the wind got so strong it was making a high-pitched moaning sound. I stood under the barn shelter with Keil Bay and the pony, the only two equines living here then, and figured we'd weather it together.
After it passed and I'd come inside, my mom called to see if we were okay. "Why?" I asked. And she said a tornado had just passed right through our little town, and by the radar on the TV news, it looked like it went right by our farm. "Oh, that's what that was," I said. "The wind was really blowing and there was a weird noise."
"Did you get in the closet?" she asked. (we have two interior closets that are perfect places to go if necessary during bad storms)
"Of course not," I answered. "I was in the barn."
There's something magical about being with horses in the best of times, but there's something even more so about being with them during the other times. They tend to get still and watchful, and seeing that line of three geldings abreast, out in front as though they can shield the barn, the beautiful black mare, the donkey boys, and me from what's coming is as wonderful a feeling as I've ever had.
Yesterday our temps went back up the thermometer to the mid-90s, and the heat index was over 100 again. I knew the temps were supposed to drop today, but I wasn't expecting such a dramatic weather event yesterday.
I spent time in the morning doing some extra chores - dewebbing the feed/tack room, doing some deeper cleaning in a few spots, and making sure there was plenty of clean, fresh water for horses to drink.
After a quick trip to the feed store and farmer's market in the afternoon (we got peaches and blueberries, Asian pears grown locally, cucumbers, baked goods, home-made picante sauce - to go with our continuing dragon tongue beans, tomatoes of all colors, sweet peppers in two colors, and basil) I went out thinking I would give Salina a full bath, offer showers to the geldings, and let the horses graze for awhile before the night-time thunderstorm hit.
Even when bathing Salina, the skies began to darken, and by the time the geldings had been hosed, stalls picked, wheelbarrow dumped, waters checked and topped off, I realized the storm was going to hit sooner than later, and that I would need to serve hay and then cover the round bale.
By this time the wind was picking up, and the pinwheels I'd stuck into compost piles earlier in the day were spinning wildly.
It's amazing how much the colors shift when a storm is coming. The warm and brilliant green shifts to a darker, more silvery shade, and the light-colored undersides of the leaves blowing in the wind add to the effect.
The wind whipped up strong and Salina and the donkey boys trotted in from grazing the barnyard to the shelter of the barn. Keil Bay, Cody, and The Little Man were standing out in the paddock, enjoying the sudden coolness and the big breeze lifting their manes and tails. I'd opened the back gate earlier so they could graze, but realized with the storm so imminent I'd better close it again. So I ran past them. They of course followed, but when I called out that I was closing the gate, Keil and Cody stopped. The pony kept coming - he's always game for some grazing, no matter what. But I got the gate closed and then they all came forward and stood by me in the wind, putting me in the middle of the herd. I gave them each a pat and a rub on the shoulder, and went back to finish my chores.
Back in the barn, I checked windows and doors and made sure everything was latched (not closed, but just secure, so we'd have no banging in the wind) and then went out to cover the hay. I got the big tarp on, but the wind was wild by that time, and the tarp was literally lashing from one side to the other. In a crazy fleeting moment of thinking I could boss the wind itself, I called out "Stand" and held my hand up the same way I do if I need one of the horses to stay put. Even more crazy, the tarp stopped flapping and the wind stilled long enough for me to get something on top to weight it down.
Dickens and Mystic, brave cats extraordinaire, were literally lying flat out in the open, gazing up at the show.
I lingered awhile with the horses. Salina and the donkeys had gone to the little barnyard where they were grazing, waiting for the rain to hit before they came back in. The geldings had lined themselves up three abreast in the paddock, facing away from the barn in the direction of the storm, as though they were a united front protecting us from what was coming.
It made me remember a day when we had just moved in, when the skies grew dark and the wind got so strong it was making a high-pitched moaning sound. I stood under the barn shelter with Keil Bay and the pony, the only two equines living here then, and figured we'd weather it together.
After it passed and I'd come inside, my mom called to see if we were okay. "Why?" I asked. And she said a tornado had just passed right through our little town, and by the radar on the TV news, it looked like it went right by our farm. "Oh, that's what that was," I said. "The wind was really blowing and there was a weird noise."
"Did you get in the closet?" she asked. (we have two interior closets that are perfect places to go if necessary during bad storms)
"Of course not," I answered. "I was in the barn."
There's something magical about being with horses in the best of times, but there's something even more so about being with them during the other times. They tend to get still and watchful, and seeing that line of three geldings abreast, out in front as though they can shield the barn, the beautiful black mare, the donkey boys, and me from what's coming is as wonderful a feeling as I've ever had.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Tilikum the orca: does this sound familiar?
I just heard most of an NPR show (Diane Rehm, but hosted by a guest today) in which three ocean mammal researchers were discussing Tilikum, the orca whale who was responsible for the death of his trainer back in February of this year.
One of the researchers, and I've been unsuccessful thus far in googling to find out her name, described the life of Tilikum, who is 30 years old, has been in captivity since he was captured as a 2-year old, and has been associated with the deaths of 3 people during his lifetime.
She noted that he is kept almost completely isolated, with no contact with other whales, in a tank much too small to be considered humane, in chemically-treated water that is known to affect whales and other ocean mammals negatively over the course of their lifetimes, and is regularly forced to donate sperm that is used to artificially impregnate female whales owned by Sea World.
She noted that since the death of his trainer, he is now even more isolated than he was before, and that Sea World has flatly ignored her suggestion that Tilikum be retired into a much larger tank, with at least one other whale, where he might be less stressed and live out his life in a more humane manner.
When I got home, I was so upset I tried to locate more information. I did find a description of how they obtain the sperm from Tilikum, which involves getting him to roll onto his bank in a small tank, stimulating him, and then collecting the sperm. Apparently they are continuing to do this, even though he is no longer being used in the shows at Sea World.
As I listened and then read, I couldn't help but think about how similar this sounds to the living conditions of many of the breeding stallions around the world whose foals are much in demand.
I read some quotes attributed to several trainers who left Sea World and have since changed their minds about the ethics of keeping these huge, intelligent mammals in captivity. Their descriptions of the living conditions of these animals at Sea World used the word "brutal."
I have been to Sea World one time, as a graduate student in Austin, Texas. I admit, the whale show was a moving experience, but I worried about the animals the entire day I spent there. As one researcher said in today's show, she tries to reconcile her feelings that there should be no Sea Worlds with the knowledge that some of these animals will never be able to be returned to a natural, free environment. What needs to happen is a harsh, behind-the-scenes look at the way these captive mammals are kept, how they are used, and what can be done to ensure a humane and dignified life for them.
I'm still looking for information, and will try to add links as I find them.
I found a link to the show, which lists the speakers and gives links and information about their publications.
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