rolling on, into a new week

Looking back to last week, it seems surreal - a wrinkle in time, to borrow from Madeleine L'Engle. Yesterday afternoon the wrinkle began to flatten out again, and we started work cleaning/pruning two big garden beds.

I imagined getting both of them completely done, but due to our jolly green giant butterfly bushes, we only made it halfway through one bed. My aversion to pruning always gets me in the end, because when it finally becomes critical that it get done, it's a huge undertaking.  It's intriguing to me that every time I undertake the huge pruning chore, it coincides with the need to 'cut through' something, or unstick myself from some mental entanglement.

This time it was what I needed to move on from this past week, which was sad and beautiful all at once, and difficult to let go. Much more difficult obviously for Gerry's closest friends and family members than for me, but it was clear that pruning away dead branches, dragging them to a pile, and then sitting with them as they burned to ash, was both metaphorical and healing.

We are having a beautiful stretch of days. The front field is looking so clean and good, and yesterday I saw just a shimmer of green beginning. The bare paddock always looks a mess this time of year - it gets the most traffic and right now it's so torn up it seems there is no way anything will ever grow there again. And yet by midsummer we will be seeing grass there, and I'll be amazed at the earth and how it heals itself with no help from us humans.

I have errands to do today, and chores, and if the forecast is correct it will be 68 degrees this afternoon. We now have two shedding equines - Salina, and the pony, going in the same sequence from year to year. We see the brush turn black when Salina sheds, and white once the pony starts. The copper and red bay comes a little later, and the donkeys shed out last of all, which is pretty smart of them, since their fur is good pest control.

I think this will be a good week to continue the spring cleaning we've been doing, and to start a few new projects: vegetable garden, new way of composting, etc. Right now it feels good to have good work to do.

Linda Parelli teaches a one-eyed horse a "lesson"

This came in to my inbox a bit ago and I am appalled. I've never been a Parelli fan, but mostly because of what I've read and heard - I've never seen any of their "work."

This is a horse with one eye, and watching the video, I am most struck by the fact that I can make no sense at all of what Linda might be asking this horse to do. It's clear the poor horse doesn't know either.

I only wish I had a video of Marlis Amato working in a clinic we hosted here a few years ago, with our one-eyed goddess, Salina, to show an alternative of what one can do softly, quietly, and with utmost respect to the horse.

I'm told this is from a Parelli Level 1 DVD. If this is basic, I have no desire at all to see what they do in advanced work, and as much as I adore Walter Zettl, I can't imagine what he is doing working with the Parellis, unless it's to try and get them to stop doing THIS:

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/80925308

Note to everyone who doesn't know: this is terrible horsemanship. I'm so tired of so-called "professionals" treating horses badly and earning money for it.

Here's an alternative with Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling:

Happy The Man, and A Tribute

 This morning's Writer's Almanac featured this poem, which I think is fitting for this week:


Happy the man, and happy he alone,
   He who can call today his own:
   He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite or fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

-Horace, from Odes, Book III, xxix. Translation by John Dryden


My husband, Matthew, wrote this tribute to his friend Gerry, who died on Thursday after a car accident last Monday.  I wanted to share it here, as I feel it expresses well why Gerry's death has touched so many of us:

Friday, March 5, 2010 12:47 PM, PST

There were a lot of prayers this week for healing, and a lot of people lighting candles for Gerry. A lot of love focused on Gerry and his family, most especially Mandy and the kids. And yet his body died. So people with a particular perspective would say, "see, prayer doesn't work". But I differ with them about that.

There was such an intense light and love in Duke hospital this week. Most especially yesterday, our last chance to say goodbye to Gerry. I could see it on the faces of his family, a light of healing and love and grace. I think many of the visitors to the hospital came to give consolation to Mandy, but found themselves receiving so much of it from her instead. I have only seen this degree of grace and love a very few times in my life, and when I see it I am always humbled and in awe of its power. It can sometimes flow through us when we get out of the way of Spirit, out of the way of God. Sometimes in very small moments of creativity and energy and flow, and sometimes in awe-inspiring ways as the visitors to Gerry's hospital suite saw this week.

I have not had the honor of spending very much time with Gerry and Mandy's extended family, but he has always conveyed to me and his other coworkers how fortunate he is to have them, and what a caring and close-knit family they are. And I know we all saw that this week if we spent even a few minutes over at Duke Hospital. I believe it is the power of prayer, and the power of love, of Gerry's own kindness to all of us, and the power of Spirit to uplift us when don't hinder it. A fitting grand finale to Gerry's life so very full of friendship with so many people everywhere.

Sometimes it is not easy to have the full perspective of just how important someone is. Until they are gone, and you feel your heart crying. . .

Countless times, Gerry would tell whoever was in the office that he was leaving, and say "I'll walk out with you if you're ready to go home". And if we were finished, we'd gladly shut down our computer and pack our bag and walk down the stairs. We didn't know why, didn't really think about why, we just did it because we wanted to. Because talking to Gerry, somehow it always made you feel good, or at least better than before. So we would go out and chat for 5 or 10 minutes about the latest project we were working on, or fish oil supplements, or or the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, or the latest office rumors that Gerry's unrivalled network of friends at work had passed on to him. But whatever the topic of conversation, it felt good and right to spend those last few minutes of the workday, out in the parking lot, talking to Gerry.

Look at the outpouring of support on these web pages, at the hospital, at his work, on phones, emails and instant messages going around the world. All of this speaks for itself, so loudly we all can hear it and feel it in our hearts. It is written: "By their fruits ye shall know them". Yes, indeed, Gerry, yes indeed.

Gerry I don't think you even knew how important you were to everyone while you lived your earthly life.

Goodbye, Gerry (for a while). You really did have a wonderful life, and I am utterly grateful that I got to share 10 years of working closely with you, and all our lighthearted and serious conversations, and more than a few cold glasses of beer.  Godspeed, Gerry.

Matthew Cromer

thank you to all my friends here

I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has commented and shared in this week's sending of healing thoughts, prayers, and focused energy for Gerry. There is no doubt that his family has been awash in an outpouring of love and support from friends, extended family, colleagues, and from people all over the world who connected via a wider network of friends.

It was a very sad afternoon yesterday. However, my husband (Matthew, who commented in the previous post) and Gerry's team at work were able to go say goodbye to him, spend time with his wife and family, and then go out together to spend time remembering him. The fire department crew who did the first response went to the hospital to answer questions family and friends had about the accident itself. Gerry's wife comforted his friends, with grace and strength. When Matthew got home it was clear Gerry's death had brought sadness but also a tremendous amount of light and love, which I think is the biggest possible tribute to the kind of friend and person he was.

It seemed entirely appropriate that even while his friends were learning of his death, Gerry, an organ donor, had already given a major organ to a 7-year old girl.  (And in a recent update today, Mandy reported that Gerry gave sight to 2 people, saved 5 people's lives with organ donations, and improved the health of up to 200 people with tissue donations -amazing)

Gerry's team of guys were told to take the day off today, and right now they are all on the phone, in a conference call, remembering Gerry. Many people are sharing stories and photographs on his Facebook Group page, Friends of Gerry Reid, and on the Caring Bridge website under his name Gerald Reid.

We continue to send strength to his family as they move forward.

If anyone doubts the power of friendship and of people to generate a web built of love and light, go take a look. It's pretty amazing.

*******

We've had sunshine here for two days and the forecast is bright through Monday. The horses seem happy with the hints of spring. There are songbirds everywhere, and yesterday on the way to the feed store I saw a yard completely covered with blackbirds. Keil Bay took another nap in the barnyard and because he looked so relaxed and comfortable lying there I actually delayed Salina's first lunch by fifteen minutes so he could finish his siesta. About the only thing he has to complain about is the fact that HE doesn't need four meals a day!

There was another death this week: my father's best friend died in his sleep three nights ago. My dad met Lank in Basic Training and they went through that together, then ended up in the same unit that stayed together all the way through the Korean Conflict. They both married and had first children around the same time, and our two families grew up visiting at least twice a year from the time I was born until I graduated from high school.

Lank and my dad talked frequently on the phone during my dad's last year of life, and I was relieved to learn that Lank died in his sleep, peacefully. The day after Lank died, before I even knew he had, I saw the little bird who came to visit me day after my dad died. The little bird flew up and to the fence and then away, and I stood there a moment waiting for something more to happen. A few minutes later, when I left the window, I heard a burst of bird song in the back yard. It was the little bird, with about 5 more birds, all sitting on the fence, side by side, looking at the house, singing their hearts out. I'm thinking that was my dad, Lank, and the other members of their army unit, reunited and enjoying springtime.

I was reminded yesterday when I learned of Gerry's death how time itself seems to stop when someone we know passes on. It's almost as though we forget how to move, as if the sensation of something ending becomes tangible and we have to turn the switch back to "forward" again. It's easy to see how, without children and animals and the pull of other lives around us, one could get stuck in grief and forget to flip that switch.

This morning I'm listening to my husband recall moments with Gerry on his conference call, my son is outside pounding brass with a hammer, making gold ingots and other interesting things, and the cats are curled up in various spots sleeping. Kyra the Corgi is nosing around the back yard, and the horses and donkeys are, according to my son, who just walked in, all looking at the house. It's time for breakfast tubs and that, here on November Hill, is a powerful motivator to flip the switch and move on.

I thank you all for helping this week. Please call on me if I can do the same for any of you, any time.

with great sadness, and godspeed

 

From the Caring Bridge website:

It is with deep sorrow that I must convey that our wonderful friend Gerry Reid has gone home to be with his God. Gerry was declared dead before 3 PM this afternoon. His wife, Mandy, has returned home to be with their children.

Gerry was an organ donor and his organs will bring others renewed life.

The family would like to thank all who have known Gerry for their tremendous outpouring of love and support. Gerry's legacy is the many amazing friendships he fostered and through these he will live on.

-Mark Turner

We add our love and support to Mandy, his children, and the entire family. Please keep the 9 p.m. vigil this evening as a tribute to Gerry and his incredible network of family and friends.