It's been a while since my last post so I guess I'm due. I titled this post after a song I heard by Shawn Mullens; it has the same rhythmic chorus: "what a beautiful wreck you are...what a beautiful, what a beautiful, what a beautiful wreck you are..." I relate all too well lately. People say I look great; but I feel like a wreck. Must be the rain, the humidity, the final days of summer slamming to their inevitable end. That means my buddies' will put their bikes away and autumn will trickle down around us and then the frosty winter. I love autumn and snow, no doubt. I feel much more functional and more alive. 0ddly enough, as my ability and mobility expand in the cooler air. I can hike, snowshoe, skid fire wood, do a little "groomed blue" skiing. But no velvety leathers, no chrome over the roads, no bearded gentleman cruiser up front to hold on to and revel in the scenery. My subtle grieving for the faded glory of a gentile adventure with fine friends who shared their summer with oddly-abled me. I've always been a thinker and doer in life; this was the first summer I was a spectator. A passenger enjoying a prime seat without worries or weighty thoughts. Now a taste of reality; more importantly, reality defined by a brain injury. I've got a full barn of horses, 6 too many really. I have to put 3 down. Euthanize and bury them here. One is too old for another winter in VT at 30 years. Another is 12 years old but in chronic pain from injuries induced by excessive racing. A third is too mean spirited to be rehabbed and placed with a family. It's time to let them go, bid them farewell and good wishes for the next life. Time to set them free of their earthly bonds. It's never easy to do. Even with a skilled veterinarian inducing their peaceful deaths; it's hard to take a life. With their passing, I will have assisted in 21 mercy killings; euthanasia ~ the "good death" here at this farm. Maybe that is why I have been in a blue funk these past weeks. So many difficult tasks to do. Fences to fix for winter, money to raise for overpriced hay, stalls to repair, and the usual winterizing list for this weary old farm. This year it feels like more than I can get done... at day's end. I am aware that in the mornings, I begin each day buoyant and ready to tackle the to-do list. By 2pm I am bone tired if I can't grab a rest, by 4 pm I am exhausted, tearful, aching for sleep. Waves of angst will roil around me and I have to stop and remember to sit down with a cup of tea and my homoeopathic (arsenicum 30x is awesome at diffusing the stress and restoring equilibrium) and my jazz legends on the player. A little peace, a little rest, and the the expectation that tomorrow will be better. I know I need fewer horses, a lot fewer, I know I need steady work, I know I need reliable help with my home and kids. But all are easier said than done... ask any single mom. Building capacity is something I should add to my resume. Asking for help is rolling off my tongue, only a little more easily, as I work the problem and move my feet. I look out across the road at the happy brown horses, no worse for the wear as yet, and I smile. It has always been a difficult horse farm. It will make an awesome berry farm. I remind myself to stay focused on that light at the end of this year's tunnel; and to get to bed early and have good dreams tonight. As one of my biker chauffeurs often says: "hang in there... it'll get better sooner than you think..." I'm ever hopeful of that; another sip of tea soothes the way....
luv and peace ~ ell
this post is for the memories of summer, good friends in leather, awesome brown horses, and my devotion to the effort...
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