Upon returning home from a short trip to McCall to see Robbie, I spent yesterday setting the farm and gardens in order .  In the late afternoon, I saddled Resero and took him for what might have been the longest ride of his life.  I pushed him and I’m going to continue to push him in the months and years to come because he’s a high-strung animal, just like our birddogs, and I believe these kinds of animals need to be physically and mentally challenged in order to thrive, but also, a good horse or dog is a tired horse or dog.  Yesterday we did an 18 mile ride.  It was tiring.  This morning, Resero is a quiet, sleepy, sunbathing beast in his paddock.  He reaches down from time to time to grab a bite of grass but he’s not his usual highly reactive self.  I should also add that I am thinking about doing endurance races with him.  This horse comes from a competition background and I think he needs it in his life so these long miles have a purpose beyond exploring and pleasure riding.

 While we were on the great, long ride together we saw pronghorn, mule deer, coyote pups, one badger, red-tail hawk, quail, pheasant, chukar, Hungarian partridge and the country was huge and sweeping and laid out before me like something pure, earnest, brimming with life and glory.  I felt so lucky to call this area home and to have a good horse to explore it with.  It was there, in my heartland, that I found myself alone with my thoughts and I began thinking back to a time when I didn’t know when to stay quiet and when to speak up, when I didn’t know I was worthy of defense — that I could defend myself!  I expected someone else to come along and save me, fight for me, defend me and no one did.  I didn’t stand up for myself because I think I didn’t believe in myself, my work, or that I was worthy of my own defense (and I was).  I think it was wrong of me to expect someone else to come and save me from the spiritual and emotional violence of that time.

If I was alone and hurt or attacked in the wilds by a terrible beast, I wouldn’t wait for someone to save me, I would do my best to save myself, I would fight, because I’m worthy of life and living and surviving.  How is navigating humanity any different than a tussle with a creature or a bad fall on volcanic rock that leaves an ankle badly sprained (or worse)?  I guess this is all to say, so many things about me have changed and shifted and shattered and died and rebirthed over the years, I’m thankful I’m becoming someone I believe in, trust in and can stick up for.  I can lay it on the line for myself and for others but more importantly, I’m thankful to be learning when to stay quiet and when to take a stand.  Some things are worthy of of my energy and other things are just pishy caca and not worthy of oxygen.

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On a different topic:

It’s ok to be happy and merry and joyful and to earnestly and honestly convey that to others — to share it.

It’s ok to be successful.

It’s ok to not be a starving artist.

It’s ok to have dreams and to have your dreams come true.

It’s ok to be learning and growing and to carry the emerging beauty of transformation on the surface of your skin.

It’s ok to like yourself.

It’s ok to be liked, to be loved, to be cherished, to be uplifted, to be carried in the hearts of others.

It’s ok to be worthy.

It’s ok to be strong.

It’s ok to have the color of skin you were born with — to be brown, black, white, whatever.  It’s ok.

It’s ok to be self-sufficient.

It’s ok to be capable.

It’s ok to need help from others.

It’s ok to help others.

It’s ok to to practice charity privately and quietly.

It’s ok to have faith and to practice a faith.

It’s ok to pray.

It’s ok to be healthy.

It’s ok to be alive.

It’s ok.

All of those things are ok.

You’re ok.

I’m ok, too.

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In farm news, we took our first cut of hay two weeks ago and it’s the best cut so far in our hay farming career despite irrigation issues early in the growing season.  It’s difficult to believe we’re 1/3 of the way through the growing season and fire season!  Time has wings — I ride it like it’s a bird!

My gardens are aiming for the stars.  It’s my great pleasure to watch the bees working in the flowers I planted just for them.  I’m eating zucchini like it’s my jay-oh-bee.

I have seven broody hens.  I’m fit to be tied.  A sister can’t get no eggs around here!

The turkeys have been threatened by a marauding night beast.  It arrives, on the prowl, around 3AM.  It’s keeping me awake at night.  Our jenny is such a great mother to her brood and she’s equipped with strong survival instincts.  She has started roosting with her turkleteenies in a different place every night to thwart potential attacks.  I trust in her capabilities as a mother and protector so I’m letting her do her thing.  This might be a place we simply cannot free range a turkey flock due to wild animal attacks and I feel I need to let the situation ride so we can know, one way or another, if free range organic turkey raising is a niche market we can pursue.  We’re in such an experimental stage with the farm right now.  It’s a dizzying amount of work but rather satisfying when we figure things out, one by one.

The summer solstice is looming.  Isn’t the light so warm and rich and tinged with the everlasting?  Go out into it.  Let it get in the marrow of your soul bones and then let it write itself all over your shining faces and go forth in all you do, beaming bright.

I love you.

XX

Jillian