as my forty-second birthday looms in the path ahead... a great sadness seems to be overtaking me... for it marks a deadline I cannot change. the alarm clock went off ages ago, and I keep hitting the snooze button, over... and Over... AND OVER... in a month, I have to accept... I've run out of snooze buttons... and there will be no turning back.
being a mom was NEVER one of my goals, being married was for suckers, having kids was for jerk offs who needed someone to control. oh my rant went on and on. I didn't want kids. I didn't want that sort of responsibility. my mom was (still is) an abusive bitch and I was going to break the cycle by never having children and never being anything like her.
I found these conformist institutions like marriage and baby making for those other people who had unfulfilled lives.
my sister was slated to be the one to get married, have kids and follow the expected route through adulthood. not Elissa Jane!!! not ME! when my now ex-husband asked me to marry him, I laughed. not like a small giggle, no, I LAUGHED...... because I couldn't believe this was something anyone would ever ask of me.
but it happened. I married him. and a year and a half later on October 17th, 2001 he got me pregnant. something happened... that thing inside me became a baby, my baby, and my chance to do good in this world. I suddenly had reason, purpose, something other than me to think about.
my pregnancy was more than hard. I lived with a staunch hard core alcoholic who decided that I was the enemy. I got pregnant on purpose and I did it to him. for ten months (my son was very late) I endured abuse, mostly verbal and some physical and lived in constant fear. my pregnancy was NOTHING like the movies. I cried a lot, and waited home alone for a husband who was blowing what little money we didn't have at the bars, falling asleep on benches, avoiding me and our home. I lived in fear and couldn't imagine how I could be worthy of bringing a life into this world. if my pregnancy was any indicator of life ahead, I was doomed.
on July 18th, 2002... they cut Zoren Samuel Mastel out of my belly. they held his squished up crying body up so I could see him. he was there, here. they handed him to Randall who was the very first person to hold him. it was the only time I've ever seen Randall cry. in that instant, I watched that asshole fall in love with our perfect little son, "look at your mom, this is your mommy, isn't she brave, she worked so hard to have you, I love you, we're a family.... "
everything I difficult I had endured melted away, and hope arrived. Zoren was born. we were a family. for a moment.
in the days that followed, while I recovered in the hospital, Randall was out celebrating at the bar. he barely came to see us. when we came home, he was out as fast as lightening, and out drinking every night. I actually had to call the cops and I kicked him out of the house.
they say children change you. the arrival of Motherhood certainly changed me. from that moment I realized I was pregnant, to the moment I gave birth, I had one mission... to put this little person ahead of everything else. I opened a business to support us, and have fought hard to keep us afloat for the past nine years. people would ask me how I do so much, how do I juggle it all? my response would always be, "being his mom is easy, it is life that is so hard."
I wanted more kids. I wanted to make up for the shitty pregnancy, and have one where I got to be the doted on pregnant woman. I wanted a baby with whom I could spend a maternity leave with. sheesh, I wanted to get to have a maternity leave! I had hoped for a partner who was excited about the baby inside me. I wanted all the stuff you see in the movies that I never got to have because I was living with a drunk douche bag the first time around.
after begging and pleading, we tried for a second. and failed. I had five miscarriages in two years. it was unbearably painful to watch my fellow mommy friends getting pregnant again while I endured life as a broken woman. my body just wouldn't do it. I suppose I should be grateful now, having two kids as a single mom would be so incredibly insanely hard. (Carla, woman, I do not know how you do it!)
I was meant to be a mom, I love being a mother. in my entire accomplished life, nothing compares to being able to make boo boos better with my kisses and leh'monem cookies (=M+M Cookies, took a while for Z to be able to say 'M+M') for school functions. pregnancy might have ruined my body, but it did something beautiful to my soul. in these years I've learned patience, I've given up my selfish lifestyle and put this other person first. I've had to learn to set boundaries and rules, yes, I'm even a decent disciplinarian. I know the true meaning of unconditional love, and I'm proud to say that I've broken the cycle of abuse and pain from my mom.
it may sound cliche, but my life was kind of meaningless before I became a parent.
last week, I went to the 35th Annual Phoenicia Square Dance with my son on my arm as my date, head held, erm, not really very high.. but my son and I danced together... I socialized and accepted where I'm at in life, the cosmopolitan single mom transplant. there are easy days, where I look at my gorgeous, perfect kiddo and say, yeah, life is good just like this.
and then... there's the alarm clock that stopped going off. no more snooze buttons to push. I had been hopeful that by now I would have met someone, had another kiddo, been moved onto my next marriage and my next phase of my life. samsara didn't dole that out as my lot. yeah, I'm turning forty-two next month. this was the deadline, the final year, the last chance. reality has settled in, there will be no more kids for me. it's really incredibly sad. it is time to let go of my attachment to hope, there won't be another chance at a great love... and there definitely isn't going to be another baby. what a shame, I made such gorgeous awesome kiddos and I'm such an awesome mom, how could you not want to get me pregnant? sigh.
we all have our trigger for what causes us suffering... and now you know mine, the deep rooted truth... and now... to the hope I have been clinging onto I say, "bye bye baby.... "
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
yeah haw the single mom honky tonk blues
I know it may sound like a broken record over and over throughout this blog.. but here it comes... while I sing ya.. the single mom blues. Over the past 5 years I've learned to go from being dependent on my partner to get through life to an incredibly independent Woman. I mean, have I had a choice? Sure I have my chill dharma yoga meditation practice, but that's not quelling the fundamental need to NOT be alone all the time. Most days, it has become routine to raise my son and walk this earth alone, but this week threw me some really hard core triggers that really made me scream F.M.L. over and over.
When Zoren was born, I remember people asking all these questions about what parenthood was like... my standard answer then was, "being Zoren's mom is easy, it's all this life around me that's really hard." He was the most amazing, loving, happy baby. The kid never cried, was always amenable and liked all people. He laughed constantly and everything was near perfect for the first 19 months.
He learned to walk before he was one... and I remember him falling and hurting himself in my shop one day... he fell and cut his chin, blood spilling out of his face. This was just the beginning. he learned to bite me and bruised me from head to toe, he learned to talk back, Zman got in fights in preschool, hurt other kids, got hurt, became a victim of a bully, acted out, hated me, wouldn't put on his shoes every morning for two years without me yelling, sassed teachers, sassed me and all this time... I've had to maintain some sort of composure and figure out how to help and fix this kid and his phases. We have done family counseling and sit together and talk quietly. Sometimes he likes to meditate with me, I really like that.
I gotta tell you... nine years later... being a mom isn't always so easy. Doing it on my own has been pretty darned challenging.
In the early years when I was still married, I remember meeting single moms and wondering how the hell they do it. I'd think that would never be me, I'd be married forever. That would never happen to me. Of course, what we resist, persists and sure enough here I am... touting phrases like, "Single moms rock!" and throwing around my unsure sense of liberated feminism in order to put strength behind a situation I really don't want to be in.
This entire week has been nothing but car trouble. I can't tell you how sucky it is being a Cartarded JAP Princess getting stuck with a car that won't drive properly. It's my own fault, I've been driving it into the ground for weeks. Sitting on the side of the road last weekend with the car overheating... I managed to play EJ MacGyver and figured out how to aleviate the situation and get us from point A to Point B. At first I felt empowered, like shit, I can do this! By Sunday, I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear... I wanted some man to come and swoop me up in his BatPlane and pick my car up with a crane and take it to his BatCave where his trusty butler fixit man would get rid of it and buy me a newer more reliable one.
Whenever I meet a guy who can fix cars, I swoon at the idea that he will be my perfect match and that I'll never struggle or suffer the plight of driving a piece of crap old car anymore... that he will save the day and save me. I had a guy who used to work on my cars, and I loved him. When we first started dating he took my car to the car wash and detailed it for me in the 90 degree heat... I fell in love with him right there and then. He replaced my alternator, fixed all the little broken things, he fixed and fixed and split... ACK!
Today I was stuck on the side of the Throughway, car smoking while I stood there in my Prada high heels. Why am I single??? I cried out... how can this be? I hate this shit, I really do. The tow truck came, the car got fixed but I felt so vulnerable, like how is it that I had to pay for help. It really utterly sucked. When I get stuck, which happens, I hate this feeling that I just don't know who I'm supposed to call to help me. I have to handle my whole life on my own. It's so challenging. It really is.
Tonight was another one of those school/town functions where I get to strut my stuff as the token City Chick Single Mom who moved upstate to do over her life...yes, tonight was the 35th annual Phoenicia Square Dance... Zman was my date, it was mommy and me time. As usual, I showed up, just him and me for the whole town to see. Dads a plenty in their western shirts and wedding rings, staying clear..... that Ms. French and Ms. Howe looking down their noses at me... I sat in the corner, alone as I always do... sipping $.50 cups of lemonade in styrofoam cups watching the social scene of Phoenicia unfold in front of me. In the four years I've lived up here, I've learned their faces, many of their names, had playdates, saw them at the 'anonymous' meetings and certainly have gotten to chat with them over the years on field trips and at birthday parties. I've found my way in to this community..... the single mom from the city and her little dark funkified child.
Over the years, the dread has waned and I've grown a little more comfortable each time I go to school to participate in these functions. I've certainly made some friendly connections among the fellow parents, but I just don't fit in. I could blame myself for not really getting involved enough, but there's something very 'mean girls' about the PTA that always triggers great aversion for me.
But something this night was different from all the other school function nights. Leading up to the big square dance ... my son was so enthusiastic that we were going to this event. He bought bandannas for us in the little school store, his was blue, mine was bright pink and he was proud to have picked one so girlie just for me. We took our time putting our outfits together and even I got a little excited. I did manage to get my little cowpoke to be my dance partner, and we had fun square dancing together, in fact we had a blast. I let him be him, running around with his friends, getting lost and being a kid having fun. There was a moment while I swung on the swing set watching him interact with his classmates in the playground under the dusk filled sky, the crescent moon over the mountains and the stars just beginning to emerge. I wanted to leave and get the eff out of there, but I decided to just put him first and let him play while I observed. Him and his friends ran amok making up new games and hunting each other down in various forms of tag and hide and seek. At one point, he called out to me in a loud whisper, "I love you mommy," from a hiding spot. I smiled.
As parents came and scooped up their kids, Zoren did something he rarely does anymore, he reached for my hand and stayed close as we walked out to leave. He held My Hand for all his friends to see! Pulling me close, my too cool child said, "I love you mommy, I had the best time because you let me be me. I love that you let me be me, you're the best mommy. Thanks for dancing with me, that was fun."
After thinking for a moment, I decided to agree. Why not decide that tonight was fun, wasn't it? I'm ok with getting used to being the token hipster city single mom. There's some parts of the act I don't mind... the dads who talk to me about music, telling my wacky dating stories, all my comedic jokes ... it's not really that bad. My friend's partner said to me tonight, "what, how is it that you're totally single? I figured you had a stable of men, you're too fine to be alone. I just don't believe that, you just need to walk out the door and you'll get someone." Hah hah, if only that were true, but thank you for saying it anyway.
Look at my life... the struggle, the complications and me, wacky nutty me. No one could possibly want to step into all of this. You don't just get me, you have to take on me and my kid, we're this package... it's no wonder I'm on my own... we're a tough world to walk into. We're family, we're all the things family represents and becoming one of us must be an unfathomable idea for most guys I'm sure.
Snuggling up with Zman at bedtime, he was so elated that we had so much fun that he declared that it's Mother's Day Weekend because of all the work I do. He has decided that one day isn't enough, he wants me to know that I'm the best mommy so he's gonna make me breakfast tomorrow. He acknowledged how hard it is for me, and promised to do more chores around the house and stop being so messy.
Two seconds later I sat down on droplets of Zman's pee on the the toilet seat. Yuck. He swears to me he'll lift the seat from now on as part of my Mother's Day present. AWESOME!
When Zoren was born, I remember people asking all these questions about what parenthood was like... my standard answer then was, "being Zoren's mom is easy, it's all this life around me that's really hard." He was the most amazing, loving, happy baby. The kid never cried, was always amenable and liked all people. He laughed constantly and everything was near perfect for the first 19 months.
He learned to walk before he was one... and I remember him falling and hurting himself in my shop one day... he fell and cut his chin, blood spilling out of his face. This was just the beginning. he learned to bite me and bruised me from head to toe, he learned to talk back, Zman got in fights in preschool, hurt other kids, got hurt, became a victim of a bully, acted out, hated me, wouldn't put on his shoes every morning for two years without me yelling, sassed teachers, sassed me and all this time... I've had to maintain some sort of composure and figure out how to help and fix this kid and his phases. We have done family counseling and sit together and talk quietly. Sometimes he likes to meditate with me, I really like that.
I gotta tell you... nine years later... being a mom isn't always so easy. Doing it on my own has been pretty darned challenging.
In the early years when I was still married, I remember meeting single moms and wondering how the hell they do it. I'd think that would never be me, I'd be married forever. That would never happen to me. Of course, what we resist, persists and sure enough here I am... touting phrases like, "Single moms rock!" and throwing around my unsure sense of liberated feminism in order to put strength behind a situation I really don't want to be in.
This entire week has been nothing but car trouble. I can't tell you how sucky it is being a Cartarded JAP Princess getting stuck with a car that won't drive properly. It's my own fault, I've been driving it into the ground for weeks. Sitting on the side of the road last weekend with the car overheating... I managed to play EJ MacGyver and figured out how to aleviate the situation and get us from point A to Point B. At first I felt empowered, like shit, I can do this! By Sunday, I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear... I wanted some man to come and swoop me up in his BatPlane and pick my car up with a crane and take it to his BatCave where his trusty butler fixit man would get rid of it and buy me a newer more reliable one.
Whenever I meet a guy who can fix cars, I swoon at the idea that he will be my perfect match and that I'll never struggle or suffer the plight of driving a piece of crap old car anymore... that he will save the day and save me. I had a guy who used to work on my cars, and I loved him. When we first started dating he took my car to the car wash and detailed it for me in the 90 degree heat... I fell in love with him right there and then. He replaced my alternator, fixed all the little broken things, he fixed and fixed and split... ACK!
Today I was stuck on the side of the Throughway, car smoking while I stood there in my Prada high heels. Why am I single??? I cried out... how can this be? I hate this shit, I really do. The tow truck came, the car got fixed but I felt so vulnerable, like how is it that I had to pay for help. It really utterly sucked. When I get stuck, which happens, I hate this feeling that I just don't know who I'm supposed to call to help me. I have to handle my whole life on my own. It's so challenging. It really is.
Tonight was another one of those school/town functions where I get to strut my stuff as the token City Chick Single Mom who moved upstate to do over her life...yes, tonight was the 35th annual Phoenicia Square Dance... Zman was my date, it was mommy and me time. As usual, I showed up, just him and me for the whole town to see. Dads a plenty in their western shirts and wedding rings, staying clear..... that Ms. French and Ms. Howe looking down their noses at me... I sat in the corner, alone as I always do... sipping $.50 cups of lemonade in styrofoam cups watching the social scene of Phoenicia unfold in front of me. In the four years I've lived up here, I've learned their faces, many of their names, had playdates, saw them at the 'anonymous' meetings and certainly have gotten to chat with them over the years on field trips and at birthday parties. I've found my way in to this community..... the single mom from the city and her little dark funkified child.
Over the years, the dread has waned and I've grown a little more comfortable each time I go to school to participate in these functions. I've certainly made some friendly connections among the fellow parents, but I just don't fit in. I could blame myself for not really getting involved enough, but there's something very 'mean girls' about the PTA that always triggers great aversion for me.
But something this night was different from all the other school function nights. Leading up to the big square dance ... my son was so enthusiastic that we were going to this event. He bought bandannas for us in the little school store, his was blue, mine was bright pink and he was proud to have picked one so girlie just for me. We took our time putting our outfits together and even I got a little excited. I did manage to get my little cowpoke to be my dance partner, and we had fun square dancing together, in fact we had a blast. I let him be him, running around with his friends, getting lost and being a kid having fun. There was a moment while I swung on the swing set watching him interact with his classmates in the playground under the dusk filled sky, the crescent moon over the mountains and the stars just beginning to emerge. I wanted to leave and get the eff out of there, but I decided to just put him first and let him play while I observed. Him and his friends ran amok making up new games and hunting each other down in various forms of tag and hide and seek. At one point, he called out to me in a loud whisper, "I love you mommy," from a hiding spot. I smiled.
As parents came and scooped up their kids, Zoren did something he rarely does anymore, he reached for my hand and stayed close as we walked out to leave. He held My Hand for all his friends to see! Pulling me close, my too cool child said, "I love you mommy, I had the best time because you let me be me. I love that you let me be me, you're the best mommy. Thanks for dancing with me, that was fun."
After thinking for a moment, I decided to agree. Why not decide that tonight was fun, wasn't it? I'm ok with getting used to being the token hipster city single mom. There's some parts of the act I don't mind... the dads who talk to me about music, telling my wacky dating stories, all my comedic jokes ... it's not really that bad. My friend's partner said to me tonight, "what, how is it that you're totally single? I figured you had a stable of men, you're too fine to be alone. I just don't believe that, you just need to walk out the door and you'll get someone." Hah hah, if only that were true, but thank you for saying it anyway.
Look at my life... the struggle, the complications and me, wacky nutty me. No one could possibly want to step into all of this. You don't just get me, you have to take on me and my kid, we're this package... it's no wonder I'm on my own... we're a tough world to walk into. We're family, we're all the things family represents and becoming one of us must be an unfathomable idea for most guys I'm sure.
Snuggling up with Zman at bedtime, he was so elated that we had so much fun that he declared that it's Mother's Day Weekend because of all the work I do. He has decided that one day isn't enough, he wants me to know that I'm the best mommy so he's gonna make me breakfast tomorrow. He acknowledged how hard it is for me, and promised to do more chores around the house and stop being so messy.
Two seconds later I sat down on droplets of Zman's pee on the the toilet seat. Yuck. He swears to me he'll lift the seat from now on as part of my Mother's Day present. AWESOME!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Goats Ate My Mala Beads
I was in Los Angeles, just finishing my fourth weekend of Dharma Punx Facilitator Training. I was on a bit of a high, excited about everything that was to come. The weekend was spiritually fruitful and educationally productive. I learned a great deal from my peers and teacher, and had the connection and feeling that things were really gelling.
When I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, and my fellow trainees asked the proverbial opener, "how are you?" I honestly answered with... "I'm feeling an equanimity I've never quite felt before. Highs and lows, but I'm just rolling with it."
On Monday, June 21st, while sitting in an Internet Cafe in Venice, after being WiFi-less for so many days, I logged in and began my usual work routine, updating, writing, crafting, sending, doing, clearing... preparing for the workload I had on my plate.
But .... things weren't as they seemed moments before. Some bad news, a surprise lost client, some more bad news.... a dark cloud was growing on my computer screen. All this stuff was coming at once. My phone was blowing up, my texts screen bleeping, my emails parading in... all with different shades of bad I had no control over.
I sat there, far from home, very far from home, scrambling while sipping a $4 Organic Hibiscus Mango Ginger Iced Tea I suddenly couldn't afford. How the fuck was I going to get home? And would my EZ Pass go through when I try to get my car out of the JFK Lot. Will I have enough for gas to get home? And when I get home, can we eat?
FRACK!
I scrambled, updating my resume and posting ads on CL for jobs cleaning houses, painting houses, babysitting and spanking men for money. Anything I could think of that I could do, phone sex, laundry, admin assistant. Panicking in this state, trying to be mindful. Over and over I kept saying, "Just for today, you're in an Internet Cafe with an overpriced Iced Tea and you're alive and breathing."
I made it home. My car did start. My car got out of the lot. I got my son. I drove upstate. I didn't pass go or collect $200.
Zman went to school the next morning and I opened up Craigslist Help Wanted Ads... and then I found an ad that surprised me. It was an ad for an Admin Asst at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. I figured, if I did any kind of work for a nice non-profit, I would be blessed, and lucky. Right livelyhood. I looked at the ad, with a feeling like, this would be nice. This would be so much better than doing sales for Cumulus. So, I sent my resume, with a nice note and took a chance.
The next day ... I found out... they wanted me, and the day after that it was for a job they hadn't posted yet. They needed me, and I really really needed them.
I had this feeling, that this was where I needed to go, and where I need to be.
On my second day working on the Farm, I got to meet a herd of 21 newly rescued goats. I'd never met so many goats at once, in fact how many goats have I really met anyway? As we went in, treats in hand, it was fun to feed them and meet them. They were gentle loving and friendly.
One in particular stole my heart. His name is Atlas. He's 'broken', yes, crippled for life due to improper care and neglect. He laid in pain on the ground as two women gently held him and nurtured him. The Vet came to make an effort to relieve him of his pain, and his outlook seemed not very optimistic. The collaborative goal by all was to love him and give him the most comfortable life he can have.
I took photos and shot videos. I was nervous, and shy. Then, in an effort to keep the herd away from Atlas during his doctor visit, I lured the other goats away with some goat food. Now I don't know anything about goats. They have cute floppy ears, seem pretty docile and don't mind when you pet them. As they gathered around me, scarfing up food out of my hands, the biggest greediest fellow Arthur bit and ate the mala beads right off my wrist.
I giggled and laughed, "the Goats ate my Mala Beads!"
To wit, Abbie the Animal Care Director responded, "Yeah, that's Goats for you."
Silly city girl I am, in my skirt and adornments, what was I thinking? That's right, I don't know what I'm doing, and I certainly didn't know anything about what hungry little cuties the goats are.
I guess these newly rescued four-legged friends needed a little enlightenment. My service to them, Naaaaaaaahmaste Goats! (sheepish, I know** thank you Chris Bick for this one)
I visit Atlas in his stall in the barn pretty regularly. The other day, I actually saw Atlas standing, taking steps, and moving around his stall. He smiles when I see him, and nuzzles for love. Yeah, I'm falling for the goats. Who knew that this city chick could feel such affection for a creature who seemed so alien to her 10 days ago. But here I am, falling in love with goats. I'm learning what loving creatures they are, that they have emotions and feelings and like us... even when they are suffering, they can smile when they are loved.
Emotionally, I'm far from out of the woods. I still have a lot of stuff that came up last month to tend to, and fear about being able to tackle it all. I've been humbled by the humans and the animals in my life, big and small, two and four legged. I am experiencing a new growth spurt emotionally, and am afraid and excited to get to go through it at the farm.
The equanimity I was able to live in just a month ago, seems impossible to grasp at again. How was I able to maintain that Buddha like chillness for months and months, and lose it so quickly in an avalanche of new reasons to suffer. My spiritual journey is in its infancy. I must remind myself of this over and over.
Everything is impermanent. EVERYTHING. This knowledge is freeing and crippling. But like Atlas, I too can be open to love, and allow others to help me heal. This new adventure is going to teach me something new, and is demanding that I learn to soften in work in the same way I've learned to be gentle and compassionate in my life. If I am to extend the journey, I will need to be about Metta, and be in a place of love for all living beings and walk the spiritual walk at work. I may not end up perfect, but I can end up in a much better place than where I was before when I began the journey.
When I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, and my fellow trainees asked the proverbial opener, "how are you?" I honestly answered with... "I'm feeling an equanimity I've never quite felt before. Highs and lows, but I'm just rolling with it."
On Monday, June 21st, while sitting in an Internet Cafe in Venice, after being WiFi-less for so many days, I logged in and began my usual work routine, updating, writing, crafting, sending, doing, clearing... preparing for the workload I had on my plate.
But .... things weren't as they seemed moments before. Some bad news, a surprise lost client, some more bad news.... a dark cloud was growing on my computer screen. All this stuff was coming at once. My phone was blowing up, my texts screen bleeping, my emails parading in... all with different shades of bad I had no control over.
I sat there, far from home, very far from home, scrambling while sipping a $4 Organic Hibiscus Mango Ginger Iced Tea I suddenly couldn't afford. How the fuck was I going to get home? And would my EZ Pass go through when I try to get my car out of the JFK Lot. Will I have enough for gas to get home? And when I get home, can we eat?
FRACK!
I scrambled, updating my resume and posting ads on CL for jobs cleaning houses, painting houses, babysitting and spanking men for money. Anything I could think of that I could do, phone sex, laundry, admin assistant. Panicking in this state, trying to be mindful. Over and over I kept saying, "Just for today, you're in an Internet Cafe with an overpriced Iced Tea and you're alive and breathing."
I made it home. My car did start. My car got out of the lot. I got my son. I drove upstate. I didn't pass go or collect $200.
Zman went to school the next morning and I opened up Craigslist Help Wanted Ads... and then I found an ad that surprised me. It was an ad for an Admin Asst at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. I figured, if I did any kind of work for a nice non-profit, I would be blessed, and lucky. Right livelyhood. I looked at the ad, with a feeling like, this would be nice. This would be so much better than doing sales for Cumulus. So, I sent my resume, with a nice note and took a chance.
The next day ... I found out... they wanted me, and the day after that it was for a job they hadn't posted yet. They needed me, and I really really needed them.
I had this feeling, that this was where I needed to go, and where I need to be.
On my second day working on the Farm, I got to meet a herd of 21 newly rescued goats. I'd never met so many goats at once, in fact how many goats have I really met anyway? As we went in, treats in hand, it was fun to feed them and meet them. They were gentle loving and friendly.
One in particular stole my heart. His name is Atlas. He's 'broken', yes, crippled for life due to improper care and neglect. He laid in pain on the ground as two women gently held him and nurtured him. The Vet came to make an effort to relieve him of his pain, and his outlook seemed not very optimistic. The collaborative goal by all was to love him and give him the most comfortable life he can have.
I took photos and shot videos. I was nervous, and shy. Then, in an effort to keep the herd away from Atlas during his doctor visit, I lured the other goats away with some goat food. Now I don't know anything about goats. They have cute floppy ears, seem pretty docile and don't mind when you pet them. As they gathered around me, scarfing up food out of my hands, the biggest greediest fellow Arthur bit and ate the mala beads right off my wrist.
I giggled and laughed, "the Goats ate my Mala Beads!"
To wit, Abbie the Animal Care Director responded, "Yeah, that's Goats for you."
Silly city girl I am, in my skirt and adornments, what was I thinking? That's right, I don't know what I'm doing, and I certainly didn't know anything about what hungry little cuties the goats are.
I guess these newly rescued four-legged friends needed a little enlightenment. My service to them, Naaaaaaaahmaste Goats! (sheepish, I know** thank you Chris Bick for this one)
I visit Atlas in his stall in the barn pretty regularly. The other day, I actually saw Atlas standing, taking steps, and moving around his stall. He smiles when I see him, and nuzzles for love. Yeah, I'm falling for the goats. Who knew that this city chick could feel such affection for a creature who seemed so alien to her 10 days ago. But here I am, falling in love with goats. I'm learning what loving creatures they are, that they have emotions and feelings and like us... even when they are suffering, they can smile when they are loved.
Emotionally, I'm far from out of the woods. I still have a lot of stuff that came up last month to tend to, and fear about being able to tackle it all. I've been humbled by the humans and the animals in my life, big and small, two and four legged. I am experiencing a new growth spurt emotionally, and am afraid and excited to get to go through it at the farm.
The equanimity I was able to live in just a month ago, seems impossible to grasp at again. How was I able to maintain that Buddha like chillness for months and months, and lose it so quickly in an avalanche of new reasons to suffer. My spiritual journey is in its infancy. I must remind myself of this over and over.
Everything is impermanent. EVERYTHING. This knowledge is freeing and crippling. But like Atlas, I too can be open to love, and allow others to help me heal. This new adventure is going to teach me something new, and is demanding that I learn to soften in work in the same way I've learned to be gentle and compassionate in my life. If I am to extend the journey, I will need to be about Metta, and be in a place of love for all living beings and walk the spiritual walk at work. I may not end up perfect, but I can end up in a much better place than where I was before when I began the journey.
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