tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31760843333344629852024-03-12T20:00:40.128-07:00semi-farmed kind of lifesimple observations on living with compassion and purpose Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-3369786587232346602014-05-29T10:13:00.004-07:002014-05-29T10:13:56.111-07:00a spirit of decay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My whole life I have been fascinated with decay and isolation. From an early age, I have always been sensitive to and drawn toward things and people that appear lost, forgotten or marginalized. I was the kid who would fish out and take home the lop-sided, smashed stuffed animal from the bottom of the back shelf. Things and places that are old, dilapidated or overgrown have always appealed to me more than their shiny and new counterparts. These things carry stories, history and a certain kind of art that come through the tatters and rust.<br />
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As I've grown, so has my taste in the old and broken. From teddy bears with crumpled fur and missing eyes I graduated to used books, old suitcases, graveyards and secondhand clothing. Steadily from there it has progressed and, now, in my thirties, I feel this overwhelming pull towards abandoned buildings. My waking moments are becoming consumed with the idea of capturing the tales of these places through words and photographs. On nearly every drive, no matter how mundane my destination, I stumble across what I am beginning to think of as "bleeding architecture": buildings that are so lonesome and empty they look as if they could weep.<br />
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Part of me believes that my intense fascination with these places stems from my own deep sense of loss as I grow older. As I age, I feel like I not only lose people and places who have had meaningful impacts on my life, but I also lose some of the childlike wonder that helps to fuel my creative spirit. As the day-to-day needs of adulthood all but choke out the more creative places in my mind and heart, it feels as if every day I lose a bit more: a bit more time, a bit more freedom, a bit more inspiration, and a bit more hope. It is as if the outside world, this incessant need to grow up and be something, be successful, pushes in at me from the outside. Its weight is crushing and smothering and I find myself too often choking on the have-tos and the musts, without room to breathe in the beauty and mystery of the world around me.<br />
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I don't feel as if I am unique in these feelings at all. In fact, the more I open my heart to the world I see around me, the more I notice the same crushed spirit in not only the structures and places around me but also the people. Sad, expressionless eyes greet me in the grocery store or in the teller line at the bank. I see despair and hopelessness regularly both at work and in my neighborhood. Sometimes it seems as if the entirety of the world at once gave up dreaming and stopped trying to notice the beautiful because its mere presence has become an all-too-painful reminder of ways in which each of us has failed to the ideals we once had as children.<br />
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I find myself drawn to these places and people clinging to that razor's edge between hope and despair. More than anything I want to communicate with them and capture their stories before the light in them fades entirely and they wither back into nothingness. I want to illuminate that moment where there once was possibility before it fades to black.<br />
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I believe my job as a writer and artist is to shine light on these bits of darkness. Doing so, I think, helps us remember what it feels like to be alive and dream. Being faced with the grim and gritty images of decay and loneliness need not be cause for depression and angst. It should instead be a siren song encouraging us to stop shutting down and stop shrinking back from life, even among its more painful and wretched of moments. It is in these exact moments when we are vulnerable that we can really FEEL with the authenticity and wonder of a child. Possibility is reborn and creativity comes to life.<br />
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Open your eyes to the beauty that lies in decay.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-62691128241469925162014-05-19T04:44:00.003-07:002014-05-19T04:44:41.033-07:00The One You Feed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-84483329575567515752014-04-16T04:50:00.001-07:002014-04-17T07:12:00.507-07:00Me and You= Stardust<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/x1rFAaAKpVc" width="459"></iframe>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0Medina, Medina41.136192 -81.86737tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-65329561262569556902014-04-14T15:13:00.001-07:002014-04-14T15:14:13.727-07:00We're All Gonna Die: The Permanence of Impermanence <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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“Eventually, everything goes away.” - Elizabeth Gilbert, <em>Eat, Pray, Love</em></div>
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As I look out the window at the purple-grey clouds rushing by and listen to the pounding rain on the roof, I can't help but recall that yesterday it was nearly 80 degrees and blissfully sunny, a picture-perfect day. Now, with spring storms announcing their arrival in thunderclaps and snow looming in the forecast, what we enjoyed over this weekend seems part of the much more distant past than it actually is. After our rude, rough winter, I long to be outdoors, barefoot in the grass, but it seems, as usual, that the universe has other plans. Now matter how much I long for it, summer will come in its own time and, just as quickly give way to autumn.<br />
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As irritating and unpredictable as the weather here in northeast Ohio can be, watching its ebb and flow is a koan of sorts to me, a perfect reminder of the futility of longing for or grasping after anything other than what is here now. When all I can think of are flip flops, sometimes I am gifted with puddles. It isn't the puddles themselves that disappoint me; it's the notion that I didn't get what I expected or desired, that there are things about this life that are utterly beyond my control.<br />
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There's a lot about life we wish we could control. More than a few of us spend a good portion of our early years in adulthood trying to gather the right tools in the form of education and experience. We strive to get the right job, wear the right clothes, weigh the right amount, marry the right person.... It's almost as if we are following a formula and, just as long as all of our "ducks are in a row" and as long as we "play the right cards", we should enjoy some <a data-mce-href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2014/02/28/find-your-inner-unicorn-redefining-success/" href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2014/02/28/find-your-inner-unicorn-redefining-success/">measure of success</a>. Some of us will cling so fervently to this goal that we'll do anything in our power to make it happen. We might do things we aren't proud of and often beat ourselves up for what we perceive as less-than-stellar progress towards this ever-elusive end game. We become blind, caught up in the day-to-day struggle to make this all happen that really living seems to fall away. We obsess over what we can fix and improve while we strive after and long for success. We might even catch that success for a while but then, often suddenly and without warning, it's gone. Regardless of how hard we worked, how much we saved or how bad we wanted it, things go away. Shit just happens. People die. Lovers leave. Money disappears. And no matter how hard we try, things will never be the same. And that's just how life is.<br />
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When I take time to sit and watch the weather, it sometimes pisses me off how much it changes and how the nice days never seem to coincide with my days off. Then I'm reminded by the shifting clouds that almost all of my frustration and anger comes from clinging to an expectation that things will be as I'd like them to be or that they won't eventually change. I've discovered that you can grasp at anything- everything- with clutching hands, but, just like sand, the things that you wish to stay the same will forever slip through your fingers. If you keep expecting to have control, you will be continually disappointed. Nothing is ever certain in life. There are no guarantees save for change and death, and we're all gonna die.<br />
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The reality is that the only thing that's permanent is <a data-mce-href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/10/11/surviving-change-4-life-savers-you-can-always-carry-with-you/" href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/10/11/surviving-change-4-life-savers-you-can-always-carry-with-you/">impermanence</a>. Everything must grow, change, and pass away. Although it kind of sounds horribly depressing to think that all you have worked for might end up being for naught, there's a great sense of hope and possibility from waking up to the fact that, as Kansas put it, "nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky". Buddhist monk and scholar Thich Nhat Hanh explains so completely how important change and impermanence really are to bring about positive things:</div>
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<em>"Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible. Life itself is possible. If a grain of corn is not impermanent, it can never be transformed into a stalk of corn. If the stalk were not impermanent, it could never provide us with the ear of corn we eat. If your daughter is not impermanent, she cannot grow up to become a woman. Then your grandchildren would never manifest."</em></div>
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Because everything goes away, it's important that we stop rushing, that we take the time to experience life and be grateful for it, just as it is in THIS moment, no matter how that fits with our expectations of how things should be or should look. When we open ourselves to what's going on RIGHT NOW and realize that things will, quite literally, never be the same again as they are IN THIS MOMENT, we live just a bit more alive. We feel a little more deeply. Things taste sweeter. We are more appreciative for how amazing and wonderful and incredible life really is. We are more fully US.</div>
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<em>"Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things."</em> – Pema Chodron</div>
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Waking up to impermanence also helps me appreciate other people too, for, after all, we are all made of the same stardust. Being human, we all share the same hope and longing, and we all get frustrated when things fall apart and don't meet our expectations. We all bleed the same, laugh the same and cry the same. <a data-mce-href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/10/25/i-am-another-you-you-are-another-me/" href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/10/25/i-am-another-you-you-are-another-me/">We are all connected</a>.</div>
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Everything's gonna change. Of that you can be sure. What matters most is that we each wake up and realize that, although we can't control the change or stop it from happening, we CAN control how we experience it. So embrace change. Enjoy it. After all, we're all gonna die. So let's all say fuck it and start stomping in life's puddles even if we are still wearing flip flops. Let's really live and, as Thoreau put it, "suck the marrow out of life."</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-4575524760713609372014-03-31T07:47:00.001-07:002014-03-31T07:47:56.564-07:00Friends with Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am pretty sure <a href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/12/26/writing-lab-how-to-dig-deep-into-yourself/" target="_blank">I was born to write</a>. There is deep seeded need within me that I have felt since I was in grade school to create a universe with my words, to bend reality, to tell stories and to share my experiences with the world. It's as if I am compelled to contribute to creating reality, to telling it like it really is. I don't feel complete unless I am putting something of myself out there into the world, raw and open. <br />
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I've always been a pretty shy person too, so the written word gives me a way to express myself that is at once safe and bold. Writing allows me to try on any persona I want, be whomever I please for a lifetime or an instant. Words offer me shelter and solace, a place where I can try things out and still hold them at arms length without much commitment. Writing gives me a chance to explore new ideas without becoming them and without fear of ridicule when someone inevitably disagrees with my thoughts. It is at once my superhero cape and my curtain to hide behind, my solace and my sword.<br />
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All my life, my turns of phrase have been something I have taken for granted and manipulated. What started as a pursuit of pure and childlike wonder turned into a bit of a shallow shell of what it once was. It lost its luster and mystery and became a means to an end. I wrote because I was told I was good at it. I wrote because it was my one way to be special, to prove my worth or to get attention. I wrote some things solely for monetary gain, things that were lifeless and uninteresting and without much heart. I wrote to share the boring, day to day tasks of my life under the guise of them being "adventures". And all of this sucked the substance out of my words. It cheapened the experience of creating somehow.<br />
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Reflecting now on my writing life, really, my whole life, as I enter the second half of my thirties, I've discovered something. This entire time I have been writing and living from a state of quiet desperation. All my words, all my actions up to this point have really been an attempt to connect with others, ANYONE, who would see me as I really am without judgement. I wanted (and still want) community, particularly with people who dream and feel deeply, who bleed art and poetry and understand the journey IS the destination. Up to this point, my writing has always been my last ditch effort at being myself in a world where everyone makes judgments based on first glances and outward appearances, a medium subjective enough that when someone read it I could gauge whether they were a seeker and artist like myself or not. I used this expression as an easy way to let any rejection bead up like water on feathers and roll off my back, using the subjectivity in the medium as a buffer to my soul being crushed and giving me an opportunity to squelch tears and muster up my best punk rock I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude.<br />
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But life's rejections and judgments don't just slide off our backs, as much as we'd like them to. For me, they turned me in on myself. It was subtle at first, but I am starting to see now how, over the years, my longing for community, my need to be liked and be part of group has caused me to assimilate every negative judgement I ever heard or felt and turn it inward, until I reached a point where, under it all, I stopped feeling like nothing I could ever do would be good enough, that who I really am was wrong and that my body, my heart and mind could not be trusted to be accurate or worth much of anything. A part of me died and, with it, my art. Now I find myself struggling for things to say that I feel are worth saying and not knowing how to express or even experience the most profound of feelings. I've closed myself off almost completely to everything outside myself although I know <a href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/11/09/joseph-campbell-on-the-art-of-being-alive/" target="_blank">how interconnected all of life really is</a> and it is killing me slowly.<br />
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I've always admired the bold creatives, those raw, unfettered souls whose courage comes through in their words: Bukowski, Thoreau, Kerouac, Vonnegut and others. I still look up to their contemporaries and try to surround myself, even if only virtually, with writers whose openness feeds both my heart and my craft. While I work on my own inner bullshit and learn balance letting go of my constant need for approval with creating for myself a community of like-minded friends, I'm finding that my writing, the one last bit of myself I had steeled against what I saw as a cruel and unloving world, is the place I need to begin. It's a good place for introspection, practice and a way to share with anyone out there who is really wanting to listen or feeling caught in a similar place themselves.<br />
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The trick here, for me, is in not imposing rigid rules on myself for how I am "supposed to" be doing this, this taking back of my life and who I am. Learning to look for others to guidance but at the same time trusting AND DOING what rings true to me is a delicate dance and a fucking hard one at that. My unfolding is going to be a long process I think, as I keep trying to balance what feels true with pushing myself beyond what I have come to know and what has become comfortable. The most important part is that I show up.<br />
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So I will start here, where I am, until that becomes somewhere else.<br />
I'll just start writing and keep <a href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/05/20/the-writers-manifesto/" target="_blank">writing my way into wholeness</a> until I just AM and that will be enough.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-4147400738873579052014-03-24T16:13:00.004-07:002014-03-24T16:17:18.157-07:00my life as a negative feedback loop<div style="text-align: center;">
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I won't insult the intelligence of anyone reading by pretending it hasn't been a ridiculously long time since I have added words to these virtual pages. Life had gotten away from me. I finally found a job I whole-heartedly threw myself into, as is normal for me, in an effort to not only impress my new employer enough that they decided to give me more hours and full time status, but also, I think to prove a number of different things to myself. After my period of unemployment, and in part because of it, I came to what was a pretty low point for me in my life. Finding a job, even a part time one I had absolutely no experience in, felt like an opportunity to assert my economic worth again. So I went at it. Balls to the wall, like I usually do. Like new love, it was blissful and exciting and I was vulnerable and life blossomed with possibilities again all at once. I tried so much it was exhausting and much of the creativity I had fostered over those few months when I had excessive amounts of time on my hands went away like dust in the wind. Uncared for, it slowly slipped through my fingers until writing became a mechanical act and wasn't about truth, beauty or creating anymore. It was something else that meandered its way onto my to-do list. Then it quickly wandered back off as I lost two regular freelancing gigs I that had sustained my family after the loss of my regular job. Suddenly I felt all of my creativity slip through my fingers like sand. I had nothing left to say. My will to write had left.<br />
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Fast forward a few months and my husband had another back surgery, leaving him unable to work or help around the house much for a period of about 3 months. Suddenly life became so hectic and overwhelming I could barely breathe and each day was more about necessity and survival than pleasure or love. About that time I realized I had lost all that I thought of as myself. I was living in such a way that I wasn't at all proud of where I had ended up and saw no real future for myself at all. I was drowning in a sea of antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds that cut me off from my ability to truly feel anything deeply, so I quit taking them. I started spending more time learning to cook wholesome vegetarian food, food I felt good about, and making time to nourish my body and mind with semi-regular hikes and a yoga practice. Also about that time, my digestive system started to readjust and reassert itself about what it wanted from me in ways I had never before experienced. I have spend the greater part of the last year trying to learn to pay attention to my body and how it reacts based on the inputs I give it. It's been an eye opening, humbling and expensive journey to this place where I can finally eat some things without immediately feeling like I am going to vomit. A small success but hard won and much appreciated for certain.<br />
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Since I have spent so much time over the past year and a half focused on recognizing things that do not work, it seems that has become the theme of my life at this juncture. I'm finding myself perpetually bored yet overworked, surrounded by people but longing for connection, and busting my ass yet more in debt than ever. And there seems to be no end in sight. Once I reach a place where it seems like thing s are going well, this negative feedback loop reasserts itself and I find myself in the thick of it again, caught up with fear and anxiety over how I am going to pull everything off without losing my sanity. The best part is that I am writing again for the moment, thankfully, for an amazing website called <a href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/" target="_blank">Rebelle Society</a> and, although it is not a paying gig, it is a great outlet for re-exploring my creativity and learning to be vulnerable at the same time. I am also going semi-strong on my home yoga practice, though I really wish I had the time and financial means to practice with other people. I've also been dreaming of participating in a meditation group or retreat somewhere, but am shy and nervous about going on my own. I long for that sense of community that comes from time shared with people who hold common beliefs, something I haven't really felt often for quite some time.<br />
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As for busting out of the negative feedback loop that is my life, through my yoga practice, writing and spiritual searching, I hope to be a little more at peace each day with the way things are, even when they suck. For now, I am working on practicing mindfulness as I bake bread for my family and wash the dishes and cultivate hopefulness as I plan starting seeds for our next adventure of pallet gardening this summer.<br />
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Who knew that what I'd be growing here on this SemiFarm would be myself?<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-36306062213961693722013-11-01T14:25:00.001-07:002013-11-01T14:25:01.876-07:00we have determined that your whole system sucks<p dir="ltr">"Now, more than ever before, the people are responsible for the character of their Congress.  If that body be ignorant, reckless, and corrupt, it is because the people tolerate ignorance, recklessness and corruption. If it be intelligent, brave and pure, it is because the people demand these high qualities to represent them in the national legislature. If [one hundred years from now] the next centennial does not find us a great nation... it will be because those who represent the enterprise, the culture, and the morality of the nation do not aid in controlling the political forces." - from James A Garfield's centennial address to Congress in 1876.</p>
<p dir="ltr">time to throw all those fuckers out.<br>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-85243959452463671902013-09-26T06:28:00.000-07:002013-09-26T06:28:07.747-07:00return from hiatusPrepare yourself. You may be about to be disappointed. If you are one of those folks who came back here expecting to hear about my chickens, DIY hacks to bring a bit of sustainability into your life, or my adventures in tilling the soil to provide my family with good wholesome food, you might in for a big let down. Sure, that sort of stuff lurks here and you can find it if you want to explore the archives of my thoughts. But I've got bad news. As I continue to search the world around me for meaning (which is often an arduous task), I am changing and so are my interests. Consequently, so is my writing.<br />
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Sustainability and the availability of healthy organic food are still things I strongly believe in, so they may find a little air time here, but there are so many other varied and random things that also need to be said. Some you will discover as shouts from the rooftops as I embody my more self righteous moments (though I try to keep those to a minimum). Others might appear as whispers, life lessons tucked inside photographs or YouTube videos of songs. I'm not really sure. You see, I am still exploring and growing, and I am taking my blog with me.<br />
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I've avoiding reemerging with my words here for quite some time, hoping in some way I could make it perfect, that I'd have a profound realization to share or a format to follow. In the process of waiting and procrastinating though, I feel like I was also losing something. A bit of my soul began to wither away as I neglected writing, which to me encompasses so many things. It is about release and reflection, connection and community, my hopes and fears and tears on paper. Writing is how I create, how I express myself and how I bring a bit of art into these veins that often become clogged and cluttered with the necessities and stresses of everyday life. I have no grand excuse for my absence, nor any apologies, and I will no longer make either of those, nor any promises, here. All you'll get instead is this short narrative about my self-imposed exile.<br />
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If you find disappointment in these lines and posts, know you are not alone. I am right there with you. For a while I had this dream (or delusion) that I could perhaps make a living doing something I loved and by trying to turn that into a reality I destroyed a bit of what I loved about it and the creative space I had built here. I sold out to an extent, and art became infused with marketing as I struggled to understand how I could make what I loved to do even remotely profitable. (This seems to be a theme for me, I'm discovering.) I had a good (albeit short) run, but soon the act of knitting together phrases itself became drudgery. My creativity began to fade and, along with it, my inspiration and zest for life. I became bogged down and overwhelmed with writing, with living, with nearly everything, and began to give up.<br />
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On the way down from my mild material successes, I discovered how good giving up can feel. Once you get past the guilt you might pile on yourself at the prospect of failure, it really is an incredible release. So I kept giving up. It started, of course, with writing. I became terrified of sharing how I really perceived anything so I just stopped sharing at all. I gave up being fake at my bank job and embraced my inner socialist a bit too much. I gave up on over-scheduling myself and deadlines. I gave up on feeling for awhile with some pharmaceutical assistance I actually paid for on purpose (the kind sanctioned by my health insurance~don't worry). I gave up on dreams and goals, gave up caring what I looked like, gave up taking care of myself and, for a little while, gave up hope of ever finding employment I could do without getting sick to my stomach over some moral discord involved and wanting to give up going. There comes a point, amongst all this quitting, where there is a bit of release and relief. After a while though, it even becomes work to stop caring about things. I already had this awesome momentum going though, so I started quitting other stuff in hopes it would bring meaning back to my life.<br />
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I quit eating meat. I quit drinking coffee. For a brief period of time, I even tried to quit sweet things. I quit making excuses to myself. I quit caring so much what everyone else thinks and using my perceptions of what they think to define myself. I quit sitting on my ass without exercise. I quit being so negative. I quit trying to be something I am not. I quit being a victim. I quit chasing the traditional American definition of "success".I quit chasing a number on the scale. I quit my psychiatric drugs. I quit feeling ashamed of how I feel. I quit being so hard on myself. All this letting go. But I have tried to add back a few things that make me feel alive. I'm adding back caffeine (in moderation) and exercise. I'm adding in time to read everyday and saying "no" every once in a while. I'm adding in compassion for myself and others, walks in the park just to see beautiful things, and time playing with my pets. I'm adding back yoga and, now, I am adding in writing.<br />
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I've begun to see life as a practice. There really is no such thing as "enough" and there never will be. All I can do is the best I can do in each moment, and sometimes that means poor decisions and failure. It also means there is no one "right" way and that things will naturally flow and change on their own. It is time to allow my writing, my art, the same grace and flexibility. It is time to just practice~ in life, in yoga, in creating words on a page. I am finding that the more I let go and the more vulnerable I let myself become, the more what I want in life grows on its own without my trying so hard. When I quit pushing everything out, there is more room in my heart for things like beauty and inspiration to flow in. I can be moved to tears by a sunrise and I can live more fully and I can have a sense of belonging to something bigger than myself, rather than this illusion of separateness and loneliness.<br />
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Therefore my art is a practice. There will be no scheduled daily postings and no more content formats or limits on subject matter. If you are expecting to use this blog to keep up with what my family is "doing", try Facebook instead. On these pages, I will simply share what moves me in the hope that, perhaps, it might move you too. The content, while always open for discussion, is not subject to debate. It's just how I feel. Feedback, as always, is encouraged, but understand that all you'll get here was created for creation's sake. You are so welcome to be a part of my community and read as you like, but it will not all be flowery or perfect or predictable. Please let go of your expectations and judgments if you'd like to join me on my journey. It might not always be pretty, but it will, in its own way, be magical. No disappointment allowed.<br />
<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-76532579552555296732013-07-02T14:55:00.000-07:002013-07-02T14:55:01.622-07:00dealer.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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stay tuned for the next step in my evolution.<br />
<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-19919495341059207002012-07-03T12:17:00.001-07:002012-07-03T12:17:25.142-07:00Summer Siren Song<div><p>Spent 45 minutes today cowered on the floor in one of our bathrooms with my daughter, the two dogs, a jar of baby frogs, and one of the cats as a wicked little storm blew through and a tornado was spotted just a few miles from here. No idea whether or not in actually touched down. Scary stuff, these summer storms, but we were together and were able to monitor the storm over the internet and text with my husband throughout the ordeal on my phone. Everyone's fine, we didn't lose power this time, and hopefully the worst is over for the week. 90 degree temps are bad enough without wicked humidity and the threat of funnel clouds. <br>
The chickens did a great job hustling themselves back in the coop and the outdoor cats dug in and hid under the coop until the rain and wind had passed. In a short time it will be time to make the rounds looking for eggs, but I would be surprised if much of that went on during this morning's storms. <br>
The last few days though have been what I call "5 egg days", meaning we got 5 eggs and the day was overall a relative success. I'm waiting anxiously for a few phone calls and really hope today ends up being a five egg sort of day as well. Tomorrow is the holiday and I'm not sure I could bear the suspense of waiting for two more whole days. I'm so close to a solution to my unemployment problem I can taste it, and I'm dying to see how things turn out. Distracting myself with cleaning and household chores isn't really working either, so the pins-and-needles stress from the morning storm is carrying over into my afternoon. Saying a little silent prayer that things will work out and I'll get my answers soon.<br>
The garden is really enjoying the rain of the last few days, even if I find it sort of stressful. The cucumbers are starting to grow and there are more than a few peas on the vine. Our broccoli is getting eaten alive by cabbage moths though, which have also taken up residence in my kitchen window too. Not sure if it will work or not, but thought of spraying them with a little Murphy's Oil Soap after it dries out a bit to see if that refers the moths some. I read oil and soap were both pretty effective, so I am hoping this will do the trick. I've been growing these broccoli plants since the late winter and would love to get something off of them if we could. They're the trippy broccoli variety called (I think) Romanseco or something like that and the florets are supposed to have a spiral pattern to them, which would be pretty neat to see, let alone taste. The tomatoes are starting to produce as well as the peppers, so we might get some salsa out of our garden just yet.<br>
Since it's kind of a crappy albeit cooler day today, we're kind of sticking closer to home, enjoying each other and the silence after the storm, cuddling the dogs and catching up on our rest. Only one week left till the big camping trip, so soon it will be time to reserve a rental car and start packing. Hopefully the weather will cooperate with us and it will be cool and sunny once again. I'm a little anxious about leaving the farm, but my brother, whom I very much trust, is coming to look after things and I'm sure he'll do his best with the chickens, dogs and rabbits (and everything else). I also hope he enjoys the relaxation here a little bit too, kind of like a working vacation for himself. I hope to have tons of pictures to post and stories to tell upon our return to a place I've heard described as stunningly beautiful. I can't wait to see it.<br>
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</div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-86035824729465062662012-06-30T06:32:00.002-07:002012-06-30T06:32:47.202-07:00A Paws for PrayerToday was our first day of chicken tending in the rain, dodging drops of much needed cool wetness on our way to the coop and hutch. After the oppressive heat of the last few days, this kind of cold is a welcomed thing, even though it's predicted to be in the 90s again today. It's a good thing though, that we are getting what we are, as hauling water from the front of the house to the garden was hard, hot work and the plants are certainly grateful for the drink.<br />
It's so interesting to me how much more attention gets paid to things like the weather which, in most people's lives, is just something that arises as kind of a nuisance. Here it affects a lot that we do, from when the lawn gets mowed to how often we must check on the animals to how we spend our time in the evenings. It really is a pivotal thing, these whims of Mother Nature, something I have learned to have a deep respect and gratitude for as we learn to live closer to the land.<br />
I have no ideas yet what today will bring, except a trip to the feed store for more layer ration and dog food. Part of the family is still enjoying the cool weather resting in bed to the birdsong, which is a great way to spend your Saturday mornings as far as I am concerned. It's likely where I'd be if the animals didn't need let out and fed so early in the day.<br />
Yesterday was a flurry of activity that began at 6 AM, a time I haven't seen on purpose for many months. It was a day dedicated to finding new employment and I was slated to have both a job shadowing interview and a regular interview for a type of job I've done for a very long time. The job shadowing turned out to be a whole lot of fun and a great reminder on just how much goes on in this world that I know nothing about and how much there is out there to still learn and explore if I treat everyday like the adventure it is. It was a chance to get a behind-the-scenes look at something I have wanted to try since I was in high school and even took a course in but never did. For multiple reasons I had let that dream die, just like my childhood dream to be a real writer, because the timing wasn't right or the money wasn't there and I was just getting established. I am trying to have faith that everything will work out as I need it to and be patient as I wait for the outcome, but, truth be told, it'd be like following my heart again instead of my head to get this job. It'd be a chance to finally make a difference every day with what I do in a real and meaningful way, to impact the world around me positively with my actions. I'd be pursuing what is known as "right livelihood", one that helps end and ease suffering for other beings I share this planet with, and I'd be honored to have a chance to make a difference in that way. I'm nervous, hopeful and excited, and know that every day would be a bit of an emotional roller coaster, but I'm ready. I have no idea what it pays and if the money or scheduling part would even work out well, but I am trusting the universe here that I'm being steered in the right direction. The best thing about being at the bottom here, career-wise, is that there is only room to go up, and I am trusting that the right opening will find me.<br />
So this weekend will be spent mainly in anticipation of what's to come. Here I sit with many, many more questions than answers. It's slightly uncomfortable, this needing to trust. Control freak me is forced to let go for once and just allow things to happen as they will. This is the biggest challenge for me of all, a lesson that I'm learning through this slow life of chicken tending and rabbit feeding. Deliberate action + following your heart + living with integrity and honesty = dreams starting to come true. Here's my silent prayer everything will fall neatly into place and I can finally try something completely different. Pray with me.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-77532775062244511362012-06-26T19:05:00.001-07:002012-06-26T19:05:58.842-07:00love is overwhelmingIt's from a beer commercial and is about a girl~ but I feel exactly this way about my husband...what a beautiful song. Enjoy!
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Xl7CagWk7SA" width="560"></iframe>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-45327343185018629542012-06-26T11:00:00.004-07:002012-06-26T11:00:50.776-07:00When You Garden, You Grow*My garden is like the job market, full of hundreds of other plants besides the ones I planted there. My seedlings compete with the weeds, just like I do with countless others, for very limited resources. In the case of my garden, the competition is for water, as we have had a very dry growing season so far. Me, I compete for attention, hoping some employer will notice this helpful plant amongst the so many others growing around and that I'll be recognized for what I am- not someone who merely wants to suck up and use precious resources like time and opportunity, but can take those things and grow them into beautiful fruit. What I am searching for is not just a job, but a chance at a career doing something that matters, making the lives of those around me that I share the world with better somehow. I will keep growing tall, hoping to stand out amongst the purslane and crabgrass as a different, somehow brighter shade of green.<br />
I've been diligently sending out resumes and cover letters and trying to wrangle more freelancing gigs, all the while tending to this mini farm and all that goes along with that. I'm not just playing here folks, I'm serious. I'm treating my writing like a business and doing things like spending hours a day joining professional associations and marketing myself and my services to a wide range of businesses and individuals. I know right now I am planting seeds that someday will grow. We're just waiting on the rain here to make things happen.<br />
While I'm surrounded by so many others searching for work, I've learned a lot about the things that make me unique, chief among them this blog and farm. I've learned how to add mentioning my writing and pseudo-farming in the course of an interview and that doing so proves I am both creative and not afraid to get dirty when necessary. I've also learned some great ways to feel more comfortable about myself and my skills, manage my anxiety about not knowing where this journey will end and just appreciating the path I'm following while I am on it.<br />
As I sat out in my garden today, surrounded by the daunting task of getting the weeds under some semblance of control, I realized that I am doing all I can to get my life under control by spending so much time shouting out to the world that I'm looking for work. Just as it's futile to expect my garden to be weed free (a notion that I think is hilarious), it's pointless to stress at what I can't control. I just need to do the best I can when I have the chance to talk to folks to point out that I'm a helpful person, not a noxious weed.<br />
This pace of life is both slow and busy, every minute occupied by either pursuit of more work or the completion of what's already here. There are cages to clean and mouths to feed and I enjoy every second of it.<br />
This Friday I have a chance to try on an occupation I've never done and I am a bit nervous to take that step, beginning again as I have done so many times in unfamiliar territory. I'm not sure where this opportunity will take me, whether it will become a viable long term option or simply be another something to fill up my day. I'm going in on blind faith in my ability to be adaptable and helpful and with trust that this opportunity, if it's the right one for me, will pay enough for me to be able to make it work. It sounds like fabulous fun but hard work and is something I have always wanted to try. Please say a little prayer that it at least turns out to be a fun experience and that, if nothing else, I'll have potentially lined up a new freelance client.<br />
I'm planning on spending countless hours today out in the garden, trying to bring some order to it and some peace to my mind. Weeding is the best kind of meditation~ slow, deliberate and productive~ a way to see your efforts making progress in a world where it's often not so straight-forward.<br />
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*Today's title is the slogan of the National Gardening Association, which offers a fantastic visual library of weeds, among other things. Visit their site at <a href="http://www.garden.org/">www.garden.org</a>.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-89405202581560200562012-06-23T09:00:00.000-07:002012-06-23T09:00:01.346-07:00There is dust in my house. I am not a designer or a decorator. Nothing in this place looks like it crawled from the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog of even the pages of Country Living magazine. I am not Martha Stewart and frankly, I don't care if my carpet is stained.<br />
My home is full of second hand furniture or pieces we've re-purposed over the years. My pantry is a cabinet that was repaired and once owned by my father-in-law. My daughter's changing table now holds bakeware and kitchen towels instead of diapers. My couch is lumpy and a tomato soup color but my dogs love to sleep on it and drool on the pillows. It's okay.<br />
I think the most expensive things I own are my computer and my cell phone and everything else was on sale or salvaged from Craigslist. We're frugal people, and we have learned that material things aren't all there is to life. We spend our money on experiences and food, pets we love and spend time with, and basic necessities, not flat screen tv's or expensive cars. In fact, both our vehicles are over 10 years old, but we're less than 4 payments from them both being ours.<br />
I'm not a slob. I spend as much time as I can cleaning to keep our things and place in comfortable condition. We vacuum each day and straighten up, but there's perpetually dishes in my sink because we cook at home and there's laundry in the hamper because we are blessed with clothes to wear.<br />
I am grateful for my dirt. Pine shavings in the hallway from the garage means there are chickens in the yard laying eggs for us to eat. Grass clippings on my driveway means I have a large yard to enjoy. And dirty socks under the table mean we worked so hard yesterday we were too tired to carry them to the hamper. Don't worry. They'll make it there today.<br />
I wish I could keep house like something out of Real Simple and that my garden had leaped from the pages of Organic Gardening, but, honey, we are working here, so if you don't like the dust and fur, well, then you just head back to town. We're busy living life and taking care of what's important, each other. This isn't IKEA and we're not on some TV set. Things poop here and we clean it up. This is the best I can do. This may not be a big or expensive place, but it's my own and it's comfortable. I put my feet on the coffee table. I work hard to have what I do and won't be ashamed that it's not storybook perfect.<br />
There's soil and straw and spiders and weeds. There's love and there's mouths to feed and always more work than there is daylight, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.<br />
It may be small, but I love my farm.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-20618506578875206482012-06-22T07:30:00.002-07:002012-06-22T07:30:44.984-07:00Rubber Boots and Antique SievesMy mornings have morphed into a simple routine involving large rubber boots, my pajamas and the garden hose. Each day shortly after waking up and well before coffee, my daughter and I begin our morning rounds, beginning with the kittens, who lazily emerge from under the chicken coop and begin prancing and pouncing around the yard. Lexi checks on the rabbits first, picking one up at a time so they get used to being handled. They are already larger than when we brought them home, consuming large quantities of broccoli as a favorite snack courtesy of my dad and his garden.<br />
Next we move on to the hens, who are impatiently waiting in their coop to be released to the outdoors. They know when they go in the run, Lexi will come out and dump the remainder of yesterday's food on the ground for them, scattering it inside their pen for them to forage. For some reason it tastes better off of the ground and they get excited, with wings flapping and lots of coos and clucks. Then it's off to refill the water fonts and feeders all the way back at the front of the house, which is the only place we have an outdoor spigot. A short bath, a rinse of the dishes and everyone is a bit more prepared to face the day, whether it brings sweltering summer heat or cool breezes and rain. We are fed and sheltered, and we are a happy bunch.<br />
After tending to the livestock, we can take care of our needs: getting dressed, having breakfast, brushing hair and the like. We do so with a greater sense of urgency because often at this point we are running late to a morning appointment or just rushing to that place where we can finally relax, having completed the morning's chores. Something crossed off our list this early feels good, a great way to start the tempo for the day.<br />
I love days like today, where I can spend some time after the morning feedings alone with a cup of lukewarm coffee and my laptop, clicking out stories or query letters at a slower and more deliberate pace. This is the time of day when my head is clearest and I do my best work. I can see the connections in life, between people, things and events, more clearly in the morning sun than I do once the world intrudes on my peace and quiet. This is my time to connect with the earth, say a silent prayer of gratitude and hope, and pour out onto screen or paper all my innermost thoughts and feelings. My writing becomes a sacred act.<br />
Creatives like me don't always move at the same pace as the rest of the world. We need time to lounge and reflect, to piece together the intricacies of the universe inside our minds before we can adequately describe the beauty and pain around us to others. That's why homesteading so appeals to me I think. It is a chance to reconnect to my roots. I can bake a loaf of bread from scratch and imagine my great grandmother once doing the same thing or feed the chickens vegetable scraps and marvel at how efficiently they turn waste into edible protein. I can slow down and experience the world here in awe and wonder, instead of it flashing by me in a blur.<br />
Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting some older folks at a yard sale where I discovered an antique puree sieve for jam and jelly making. It was rewarding to pause for a while and hear their stories, something I think is often lost these days as we rush to work and school, soccer and ballet. Chasing the ever elusive material success sometimes leaves us tired and empty-handed, slightly confused when we realize the journey was what mattered, not getting to the destination. Instead I heard about chickens and what my county was like in the years before I was born, got a tip on another nearby sale, and learned from my elders, even if only what it means to be neighborly.<br />
I love waking up in the country, smelling the dew on the grass and tending to the needs of these animals before my own. It's what keeps me grounded in a world so bent on consumption and material gain. Here I can hunt down experiences and learn skills that many people don't ever get to have. I know how a metal bread pan leaves the ends of a loaf of bread looking folded and how lemon balm is used in tea and what the ping of a canning jar sounds like. Do you?<br />
Now as I try to cultivate slowness and patience in myself, I pray that I can fit my writing somehow seamlessly into it all and provide for my family with my talents and gifts. If I am only given the chance to prove my resourcefulness, it shines like a beacon in the night. This girl is not afraid of hard work to get there. Every day begins and ends with work on a farm. If given the chance, I'll help prove to the world that its beauty and truth we should be chasing, not money or fame. I dream of a way to share my words with the world and earn not riches but enough to provide a simple, slow and deliberate life for my family, one where we can enjoy the little things that so often go unnoticed. But writers have to eat too, and I need someone to gift me with the chance to make my dream a reality. I want it so bad I can taste it and pray the flavor doesn't change to bitter disappointment.<br />
Say a little prayer for me, that the freelance clients will decide to start projects, that I can find at least part time work doing something I love, and that we can finally include in our routine writing as work.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-12129714757772014522012-06-17T12:58:00.001-07:002012-06-17T12:58:18.410-07:00Three's Our Lucky Number<div><p>A pic for you this Silent Sunday...<br>
From left to right: Ouzo, Goose and Bailey.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiuKwK2FdqbPVC2ABMn9P2fFFz-kyLhRXqEZKPXghpa3Z90ywBg_r7bNdcu7J4Z8lYQODIVtwnaxW-825zyrzkvoM3c8uZ3fJcf6cLTTzm4ZsNZxO1xMkxj4GGIQ4YWrLhywL2OtHNH2g/' /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-26607449923757259832012-06-16T12:10:00.001-07:002012-06-16T12:10:24.741-07:00Update on the Tally<div><p>3 people<br>
2 dogs<br>
5 cats<br>
6 chickens<br>
1 fish<br>
And....<br>
3 baby rabbits</p>
<p>Ouzo, Goose and Bailey are resting and getting used to their new digs here at the SemiFarm. Pics coming soon!</p>
</div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-79134588958079146612012-06-15T13:54:00.000-07:002012-06-15T13:54:12.894-07:00Just a Little PatienceLife here is settling into a comfortable rhythm, one of waking up at certain times and doing chores in pajamas, then getting on with the business of writing, looking for jobs, and all the other chores that come with being a housewife on a homestead in Ohio. The chickens are thriving in their new environment, laying eggs daily, about a total of 3 or 4, which are quickly translated into egg salad sandwiches, frittatas for dinner or any number of other delectable treat. We just love having them here, and my parents come and visit them bringing them treats like corn on the cob and the neighborhood children delight in hearing them make their cute chicken noises. <br />
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We also have brought in 3 outdoor cats to our little menagarie. They are probably about 3 months old and their names are Stitches, Marshie, and Midnight. Midnight is black and very shy, hiding under the chicken coop (which is where they have decided to hang out) whenever anyone comes near. Marshie is a ball of calico fluff and is named after marshmellows. Stitches was so named because you may need them after picking him up. He is the boy in the bunch and is all shades of frisky, chasing Marshie up trees and stalking things behind our barn. It's hilarious to watch them romp about the yard getting acquainted with their new home, and a relief to know that someday soon they will start hunting the mice and moles who try to eat the chicken feed and tear up the backyard, respectively.<br />
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Other than the addition of a total of 9 animals in a relatively short period of time, nothing much is going on here. I am still feverishly applying for work, to the tune of at LEAST 3 applications a day, if not more, and waiting for calls back on my applications. I really am discovering a lot about myself, in that I lack patience and can only seem to get through the waiting by distracting myself with doing things, which is not as hard to do as one might think around a place like this since there is always something that needs done. My daughter has begun a campaign to earn money for a very expensive gadget she wants, so she had been doing most of the chores herself, leaving me with little to do but write, read and brood over how I wish I had a job to pass the time, even part time. <br />
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So things at the SemiFarm have been productive if not a bit lazy as we get used to our new tally of critters around here:<br />
3 people<br />
2 dogs<br />
5 cats (2 inside, 3 outside)<br />
1 fish<br />
6 chickens<br />
3 raccoons (that apparently are into cat food and scheming how to get the hens- good luck with that- we built a fortress)<br />
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I keep searching for that perfect job in between all the animal love, searching for creative ways to get out and enjoy our summer for cheap or free. For instance, this weekend, we are attending the World's Largest Yard Sale in Seville, OH and going somewhere to ride go karts for a fun outing. There's also plans of long-overdue oil changes for the cars and maybe, just MAYBE, haircuts for us ladies this coming week.<br />
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Being unemployed and at home so much has taught me a lot of things about myself, so I am glad for the time to spend with my daughter and husband and all our new livestock. Still looking for that dream opportunity though to contribute to a team for pay, so if you know anyone who needs help with blogging or social media, please send them my way, as my freelancing is what's keeping us afloat right now. The only part I am not enjoying about this summer is how nerve-wracking it is to not have a steady income and how difficult it is to entertain an 11 year old without spending money, both of which are pushing my creativity to the limits (and that's a GOOD thing too).<br />
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Today I am having difficulty with spelling and verb tense and keep screwing up on everything I am posting, which is really frustrating me as I am making and then overlooking some silly mistakes. My daughter reminded me that it's impossible to be perfect though, so I am giving just being a go instead of being so hard on myself.<br />
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Hope you all have an excellent Father's Day weekend and enjoy the pics of our new additions!Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-60045521181326495022012-06-15T12:40:00.000-07:002012-06-15T12:40:22.507-07:00Our New Kittens and Rabbit Hutch<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stitches</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midnight</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marshie</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNaeMxZuGyMJkPcKyN3xDkL-moseQD9oLSLkaukMih0JHFSS3PLvtj03-ztPpbLm2lGLI7fyMs3pdJkEGfAx-G9hScGTdEDkqQhyphenhyphenSd5qDQFgJMvFf0Ntwmxs2a_4zafm5wD-etMxOGHY/s1600/IMAG0384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNaeMxZuGyMJkPcKyN3xDkL-moseQD9oLSLkaukMih0JHFSS3PLvtj03-ztPpbLm2lGLI7fyMs3pdJkEGfAx-G9hScGTdEDkqQhyphenhyphenSd5qDQFgJMvFf0Ntwmxs2a_4zafm5wD-etMxOGHY/s320/IMAG0384.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-87627295247374516642012-06-08T07:24:00.000-07:002012-06-08T07:24:07.798-07:00Hen ZenIt's nearing a week now that the hens have been here with us and they are already up to almost a dozen eggs in production. What's been more important and enjoyable, however, is seeing how my daughter interacts with and enjoys them. She has anxiously been waking me up in the morning when it is time to let them out for the day, reminding me throughout the afternoon that we need to check for eggs, and often even just sits by their outdoor run feeding them clover from the yard, enjoying their company. She is enthralled with having them and I am so glad they are making her summer an interesting experience.<br />
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Watching the chickens myself has become something of a meditative awareness practice, as I see them just be chickens without all their hurry and bustle to accomplish something or get somewhere as we often do in life. It's a relaxing, peaceful afternoon when I can sit with them and listen to their soft cooing, calling them by their new names and watching them explore their new home.<br />
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We have a total of six birds that are accompanying us in beginning our farm here, while the garden gets off to a slow but clightly less pitiful start than last year. I think it's going to be another bumper year for cucumbers, and hopefully the girls will get to enjoy some of the bounty with us. These birds help be remember not to get too stressed out or flighty as I continue to look in earnest for a job to help support my family. I have been applying at slightly random things lately, sort of letting my heart guide what feels like might be the right opportunity. I've been applying at the local hatchery, for the Dairy Farmers council here in town and also for a lot of writing jobs as well, still trying to make a go of this business, which I am very fortunate to have had to help support us through these tight times. If I could only bring my writing up to where I can make a few hundred a week instead of a month, I think I'd be able to support us on this lifestyle and still be home to meet the needs of my homestead and family, which would be spectacular. My spirits are surpirisingly up after receiving rejection letter after rejection letter, and I think the addition of these birds and watching how they just focus on attending to their basic needs has helped me maintain focus myself. It is getting easier, as the time goes on, to adapt into a new rotuine and just "be" instead of trying so hard to "do" all the time. <br />
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The personalities of our birds are starting to show as well as they get used to their new home. Knoxville, our Golden Buff, is the bravest among the bunch and is always the first to come in and out of the henhouse and try new treats we stick through the wire of the pen. She's a bit of a daredevil, hence her name, after Johnny Knoxville of Jackass fame. We've seen her jump from the nest boxes clear down to the floor with seemingly little regard for sanity or safety. She is our girl who lives life to the fullest.<br />
In contrast, we also have Florence and Spiker, two black Australorps, who kind of sit in the background trying to figure out what is happening before they get involved. I can relate. Sometimes all the activity can be confusion if not outright frightening.<br />
Little Ann is the largest of our chickens and was named after a dog from Where The Red Fern Grows by my daughter, Lexi, presumably for her kindness and loyalty. She's also quite curious and has already made a grand escape and journey to the farm next store, exploring the cow pasture and cow stall to some degree before Lexi scooped her up and brought her back home. It's so great having neighbors with chickens to whom you can turn in moments of panic and nothing quite breaks the ice like chasing a Buff Orpington around barefoot in a pastureful of shit. I feel more a part of my community every day. <br />
Our other ladies, Levi the Ameracauna and Koalbey, the Wellsummer, have taken more of a laid back approach to life, just laying eggs, tasting stuff and scratching around being chickens. The seem otherwise completely unphased by the drama that unfolds around them. There are lessons to learn there from watching them too.<br />
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Having chickens has definitely deepened my spiritual practice, helped me enjoy more of the present moment and focus less on the constant worrying about work, the weather, money or whatever is making me tense. It's almost meditative watching them just hunt for food and lay around, and I am glad I have some time free this summer to watch them adjust to their new home here at the Semi-Farm. They are stretching me in ways I can't even explain, from encouraging me to keep the house cleaner, slow down and plan life less, and learn to try new things like cooking for my family, which I have done twice this week without any major complaints or making anyone sick. It's amazing the lessons animals can teach us if we just open our eyes to how THEY do things without all this emotional baggage to weigh them down.<br />
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Even though they are confined my chickens are a lesson for me in freedom from overthinking and planning, helping me see the possibility and peace in routine and the freedom that can come from changing the way we look at our circumstances.<br />
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Thanks, little birds, for your valuable lessons. And tasty eggs too.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-44969090001019411912012-06-04T12:19:00.000-07:002012-06-04T12:19:24.085-07:00The Hens Have Arrived!May I present...the ladies of the SemiFarm!<br />
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And their first contribution to our family's self-sufficiency:<br />
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More details coming soon!Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-16939148391452425692012-06-03T07:56:00.001-07:002012-06-03T07:56:38.554-07:00In a state of almost.<div><p>My garden is beginning to take shape, its ghetto staggered rows and grass clippings kind of look something like a food factory I and my husband have coaxed from the earth. Being tight for cash has made it an interesting year so far to say the least, but fortunately we invested in quite a bit of seed last year in our overzealousness. This year all I had to do were start seedlings, which is an exercise in patience and hope if ever there was one. This bit of earth is cobbled together on dreams and goodwill; a little sweat equity, lots of venting of my frustrations at this life and countless hours of weeding. It is my therapy garden, and I am deeply indebted to this who've contributed to this: my father and husband, my two favorite men.<br>
The potatoes and onions are sprouting up nicely but slowly from the seed potatoes and onion sets my dad shared with me. The broccoli I started in our warm February is also doing well, as are the mystery tomatoes from dad and those and the peppers Hubs picked up at the nearby nursery. So far our cash investment has be less than $20 this year. And there are watermelon and cucumbers taking off like they are trying to reach the sky. It's all very cobbled together and ugly, but I love it so much it brings me near to tears to think what we might have accomplished.<br>
The coop is all set and ready for the chickens, who are coming today. I am very excited and somewhat nervous- I hope the ladies like their new digs and all fit well without fighting each other. Again, as with the garden, not the most beautiful sights in the world unless you are looking with my eyes, brimmed with tears and hope. I don't know what comes next, but here we are. We are moving in the right direction albeit slowly and sometimes painfully. The SemiFarm is growing.<br>
The garden is the only place I seem to be able to just be, where I can let go of all my stress and worries and focus my energy on doing something for another living thing, like saving my seedlings from being choked out like weeds. In my garden, I can be a hero to something beyond myself, I can do simple deeds that make a large difference. In my empire of dirt, I am both a humble servant and a sculptor. I can help the plants who in turn help me by sharing their fruit. It is a very symbiotic relationship we have, my garden and I, and I can let go and trust that if I help it it will feed me. No worries. It simply is what it is and turns out how it does. If only I could extend my garden mind out into the rest of my life as well. Beginner's mind, they call it. I need to cultivate my beginner's mind as a grow my garden, my sense of awe and wonder at life and my trust in the process. I need to learn to love the state of almost, and enjoy the possibilities and anticipation rather than turning it to anxiety and impatience.<br>
Here are some photos of the garden and its beginning stages. May summer help us both blossom and bear the fruit of our efforts.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgLQN8qvKOCCM0RdYJviHwkVQFO3FD6lqJmivTvqb6_AO2hu6lzM-KXLbep8QIBlkUWyJU9c9mk3IpEE_WOyl7-tX-j_chrj8gIziNfYKJ_KGVDW9FOXAwJFdDwfNv6TcGT9H6z_V-KY/' /><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFW2ot3amr8xJQo57b69OSEo4Qk8EGlgRFC1UP17eNRDXh2etB7h46GMeFIJngA512YIdAGSGNsY7SGbi_WLNwyqLAaOYDgpBfdDfibOd_jULCiGFDApNiyHWHlYsfBunM1lpQux-_YPQ/' /><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBnNbpFbNXIIShNin1hNdQwvIe_ozfsg6LkE1f73YF38j9qxrzJeitwCAh2_NSw3hsDelLP9Knn_PYcnDjHhxBj1s_w2k_zbi1dK4JJauR0_yuFhDedsfXPT2TAiRvhWhdbq8d0-O5lc/' /><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglwhJuolLxh5hDYlpiGrXkCITkbX2_ziwkgBOd6koajq24JVPTkSJ15akDRyJi9ksdLGtakgoZl5dvkOx9ObpTy87zRxOoggNfcKFp1z6amH-9wechdMJtGtw6InFvSKcW6N-7742BWc/' /><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYisNfuC3JyW_IGW-X8G_Ev_QEojCodIoeYo_TTs489JpK6b3Ibg4qxNHwqiGuvv_bJL1xVOuzI4ZxNCVNKv6Qj5qSDuV0mzjnARGmpraG0ChEE8jMURRDkOnPAoUQjgt6L0uAEdnwCPE/' /><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSUYJ1tUvJ9XD6WI2fvm1J7rSUGzSpTals5LMxrg-slN-24ZMgvj4c9vSrl8OMQq_pQ9ugzY6ThHTFaHTDjJCIv_x_XeanRm3dk4x8sitQh8FhjpHmeAWa5o2_JBQYf6CN3XnU6khLPWQ/' /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-17880277931419889962012-05-30T16:59:00.001-07:002012-05-30T16:59:21.795-07:00Slight Hope. It Dangles on a String. Like Slow Spinning Redemption.<div><p>Remember those seedlings trampled and ravaged by some wild animal? Just like me, they're about to make a comeback. </p>
<p>Not much has happened around the homestead due to lack of funds, lack of motivation, lack of everything but time. That I have plenty of. Hoping soon that there will no longer be a problem with that and someone will find it in their heart to offer this girl a chance at finding something meaningful in terms of a career. I'm on the upswing baby- I can feel it. I just want to make a difference.</p>
<p>This being without a job, I cannot sugar-coat it; the worst is the waiting. It is horrendous and soul sucking, the day after day of no calls and no offers, of wondering if something I said or did or am is in someway inadequate. I tire of it all. I tire of feeling as if I am not good enough for the hundreds of places I have applied, that in some way I am defective. I am letting go of it tonight. Say goodbye to insecurity and hello to self-worth.</p>
<p>What I can do instead of wait is write, write my heart and soul out on this blog and in my journal about all the crushing feelings, the disappointment that comes from being unemployed, the vast dissatisfaction at never seeming to be quite enough in a competitive market. I am through wringing my hands in anticipation. I am dropping my fear of failure at this off a cliff, letting it go.</p>
<p>The right job is coming my way. I just have to let it get here, which it will do in its own good time. I have to have faith. All things grow and die, come and go, burn out and fade away. At some point this situation must change, but that doesn't mean I can quit trying. </p>
<p>A long walk with an old friend today revealed to me, in a moment of Zen, that in order to live, I must accept failure. Every interview I have, whether or not I get the job, is another blessing, another chance at practicing my skills and networking with others. There are lessons in both outcomes, and a phoenix can rise from these ashes of my defeat. If I let myself cling only to feelings of failure and inadequacy, I only cause myself more heartbreak and anguish. It's okay to enjoy the process, the sense of exploration and adventure that comes with starting a new career. I don't need to make what will eventually pass more of an arduous process by grasping for control or trying to force the world to unfold according to my timeline. </p>
<p>So I am seeing the seedlings as a bright new sign, an omen that the tides are changing and all that is is passing away. We'll start a new chapter, a new adventure right here where we are, for where else can I start? The chickens are coming and it will be a new season of bounty on the SemiFarm, with all the focus in life turned to illuminating the good, being grateful for what I have and am instead of ruminating about what I lack. Each day will be an adventure in mindfulness, a new chance to believe in the cycles of birth and death, of growth and change. On this lonesome road I'm travelling on, I'm setting down the fear the best I can and carrying on lighter and freer for it.</p>
<p>I believe a better time is just moments beyond my view. Sometimes all you can do to change the world is just one little thing. My little thing is hope. </p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzzSJ5dwK7WFJ1_coxeA1WmptnVxDwdqgw7TaclsNd_-Zihzfs9R3jn2qFtvqEpHLFSn63tdoEKZZUJC8Q_rCoxqxGti2d6wNBqq5ikWVbapt4edq-_nbslMNVf8hc-7rrv5DZgd7R5g/' /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0Seville, Seville41.010056 -81.86236tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-78766715243047302892012-05-06T14:59:00.001-07:002012-05-06T14:59:44.445-07:00No Ordinary Moments<div><p>Since I am waiting for my friend to get my chickens, we have a bit of a delay in the homesteading plans. Since the coop is complete and we have some time yet to get supplies, we took advantage of this time to begin our garden this year, or at least start planning it.<br>
This year's garden is a low-budget affair on account of me not working at the moment. So hubs picked up a few seed starting trays from the local Walmart and I busted into last year's bounty of seeds from Seed Savers Exchange and Burpee's organic selection. I already have some broccoli plants started as well as a peach tree on my back porch and have direct sown some spinach, chard, leeks and radishes out in the plot we used last year that dad has filled up for me already. Today I went out and sowed some peas under the trellis, so in a couple of months we should have some delectable snow peas to put in our salads.<br>
My wonderful neighbors at the farm have been gracious enough to share their harvest of asparagus with us, and I am excited to taste fresh, homegrown spears with tonight's dinner. We have rain coming up the next few days. At least that's what they're calling for, so I should have plenty of time to make up a sweet thank you note and send it off to them. I can't think of anyone I'd rather live by than this family, who is so generous and caring. We borrow eggs and time from one another, share coffee and childcare, and I am so grateful for their friendship.<br>
I love this time of year. This spring has been fantastic and I am enjoying every minute I get to spend here at the SemiFarm. I desperately need work and believe the right thing will come along in due time, so I am filling my waiting moments in between applications and interviews with lots of outdoor time, tai chi, reading and reflection, and practicing meditation on my back porch as much as possible, with the wind caressing my hair and the birds as a soundtrack to my bliss. I enjoy the possibility that lies in spring, when, as Dan Millman put it, there are no ordinary moments. Growth and change is all around us, in the air and the earth, and everything, including hope, is born anew. <br>
I am practicing patience and presence as I wait for seedlings to sprout and hens to arrive. I am trying to enjoy the journey, which, after all, is more important than destinations. This present moment is a precious moment and will never happen again. I'm going to savor it, like local asparagus, and revel in each breath of this country air, every ray of this brilliant sun and radiant moon and take time to enjoy the wait. Each moment is special, happens only once, and is perfect. It is all I have to enjoy and the way things change around here, not a one of them is going to be ordinary.</p>
</div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3176084333334462985.post-55669058553415564772012-05-01T09:22:00.001-07:002012-05-01T09:22:31.306-07:00waitless.i am but a small part<br />
inside a large whole<br />
spreading out all around me<br />
infinite<br />
here i sit grounded in me<br />
watching it all go by<br />
a winding country road<br />
bent over some far away horizon <br />
i'm a cog in the machinery<br />
a blip in the Universe <br />
important but tiny<br />
whose purpose cannot be seen<br />
from the finite view of<br />
my one little part<br />
so instead<br />
radiant, hopeful<br />
i spread my wings<br />
unfurled<br />
and jump :in faith:<br />
praying for the winds to<br />
bear my weight<br />
and gently guide<br />
(glide?)<br />
me in the right directionHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690881393960927869noreply@blogger.com0