frequently used Phrases

Words are lovely to me and I enjoy learning to offer my words intentionally.  With a child, phrases are helpful because young children thrive on repetition and consistency.  I find satisfaction in using specific phrases that resonate with my personal truth.  Following are some examples of commonly used phrases that I replaced with words that flow well for me.  

 - Be careful

     I like to say “stay alert”.  When I know I want the kid to be careful, it always feels a little bit scary and I imagine him falling down from the high thing he is climbing.  So I don’t say be careful because the child would feel what I am focused on, the fear. Fear causes people to make mistakes, lose their focus and fall.  So when he’s climbing or what ever activity makes me want to say be careful, I always stop him, get his attention, and say “stay alert”.  Its a conscious exchange and he feels that.  When I say stay alert, I am thinking about how I have observed him in the past being really careful and deliberate and how he has good balance and he enjoys climbing and he doesn’t attract injury and drama into his experience.  I am thinking about how he succeeds, he masters activities, he is the king of the world, determined and bright.  So when I stop and intentionally offer “stay alert”, the child feels all that I am focused on, there’s no fear in it.  The vibration he receives from me is confidence in his ability to focus.  

 - Don’t get too close

      I like to say “give the cow space”.  If I say don’t get too close, it feels vague and sort of fearful, like there’s danger here and if you’re too close you’ll get hurt.  While all that may be true, I don’t want to focus on that.  I like to use positive statements instead of telling him “don’t” do something.  And I like to be more specific.  What does too close mean?  It only implies the danger, too close to get hurt.  Well how close is that and why am I putting the idea of close into his head?  I don’t want him close to the cow.  The positive statement “give the cow space” empowers the child.  He is in control, he can give space.  He gets to make the choice, he is responsible for his own safety, he is powerful.  Give the cow space, well how much space is a bit vague but he can look at the legs and see how long they are, maybe how far they can reach.  When I’m focused on space, that is the safe feeling, there is safety in space.  And I can guide him by saying, more space, that’s good and give her just a bit more space.  So he’s being generous to the cow and giving her space and he is safe so I can relax and squeeze the teats.  

 - I can’t do it

       I try to never say this myself and I always say, “I am learning to…”.   That one’s hard because sometimes I am in the moment, failing at some task and I feel frustration, but it does feel better to say “I am learning how”.  I have heard the child say, I can’t do it, a few times and it breaks my heart.  I know that he can do anything and I know that he knows that deep down, but its natural to feel frustration.  So if I hear him say it I always gently offer “you are learning how”.   He usually doesn’t respond well to that but I keep it light and focus on my pure knowing that he is learning, exploring the world and he CAN do it.  When someone asks me something about the child I always genuinely answer that “he is learning how”.   Like swimming.  He’s not in lessons or anything but he plays in the bathtub and we spend time at the lake, and yes, he is becoming more comfortable in the water and in a natural human way he is experiencing water and learning how to swim.  Its good for him to hear me tell other people my truth, he is learning how.  I feel a lot better when I can’t do something quite right, even emotional stuff like reacting well to my partner, to think or say to myself, I am learning how.  

 - I want that.

      Usually a new toy that his friend had at church.  “Mama, I want a such-and-such transformer.”    I like to say “Its good to know what you want”.  When he tells me he wants something I usually feel a twinge of guilt that I am not going to get that for him.  I am his mama and I want to give him the whole world, the moon, and the stars.  I want him to have everything that he wants in life.  Its natural for a mama to feel responsible for getting him what he wants, that’s how the human race has survived on planet earth.  When they’re babies and they cry, it is our natural inclination to get them what they want: warmth, food from our own bodies, a dry bottom, Love.  Then they get older.  We did well raising them up, but now he wants a transformer toy.  I know that I am not the only source of what the child wants.  God used me when he was little to keep him safe and fed and loved.  God uses an infinite number of ways to fulfill our needs and desires.  Its more comfortable for me to know that the child can desire something and he may receive it from the Universe, and it doesn’t have to flow through me or my wallet.  I told him after church that for me it feels good to think about the countless times we’ve had friends show up in our driveway specifically to drop off a toy for Mateo.  We really have been blessed and he remembers.  It is good to know what you want.  I’m glad he knew when he was hungry or cold as a baby and I want him to know what he wants to study and pursue when he’s older, so I can honestly tell him now, I am glad you know what you want.  I like being honest with him and I like him to feel desire and I like to feel free of guilt, to know that God has loving arms around my child too.  

 - Brush your teeth

      This was personal for me as I remember resisting that phrase for many, many years.  Right from the very beginning I wanted it to be different for him.  I decided to focus on something that he may value when he gets a little older, a fresh clean mouth.   I like the way my mouth feels all fresh and clean after I brush and I always brush my tongue too.  When we’re getting ready to go somewhere I can comfortably ask him, do you have a fresh clean mouth?  I want him to focus on the wonderful way it feels and not the chore of obeying his mama to brush his teeth.  

 - Blah, blah, blah…

      So many times throughout the day there are 1 million things I could say.  I am learning to not say them.  I am learning to hold my peace and stay silent.  Its a quiet, loving silence.  I’m not good at the teeth clenched, angry silence.  I usually just yell.  But what I like is the hold him in Love Silence.  When he was younger and learning to speak, I knew that much of what he offered verbally was just practice.  He was learning to form words with his developing mind and his developing throat and mouth muscles.  He was imitating phrases and words that he had heard.  Practice.  So I started practicing silence then.  The 10 thousand questions were just practice, like taking steps and learning to walk.  I would look at him and acknowledge that he spoke and I would breathe and wait.  Many times he wasn’t looking at me and he was on to the next idea, never really wanting an answer to his question.  It wasn’t a real question, he was practicing the art of human speech.  This continues for me today even though he speaks quite well now.  Many times I just hold him in Loving Silence.  He knows by now that if he is asking about something that I know he knows the answer to, he will not receive an answer from me.  If he persists, I will say, I believe you know.  I like to treat him as the intelligent being that he is and I like to maintain my own integrity.  Sometimes humans talk just to talk, to fill the silence.  We all do this sometimes.  I am trying to do it less and less and I want to foster that in the child also.  So when he wants attention and he goes for it by asking questions, I recognize what is happening and offer him attention in some way that is comfortable for me.  Or I tell him to go entertain himself.  The other thing that has been working well for me as of late is to say the phrase, “God Bless You”.   There are so many circumstances when I want to say something, but it will just make things more confusing or drag something out.  But words must come out of my mouth, so I say God bless you.  That fulfills my need to speak and it feels good to say.  It reminds me that I am not in this alone.  God loves the child and God loves me and everything is fine.  

  

You are good at Loving.

     This phrase I got from a spiritual teacher.   I like to say it to him when he’s overflowing joy for a kitten or a toy or some lego creation he just made.  I am so happy for him and I probably am not feeling the same thing at the same time but I want to honor his joy somehow even though I am not joining him in it.  It feels good to acknowledge that he is good at loving.  Its an important human quality and I want to celebrate that.  Yes you are my child, you are good at Loving.  

honest relationship

  In the dream, I was sort of reuniting with a group of people that I had left in charge of mateo.  They were watching him for me while I was doing something else.  As I approached the group outside in a city type yard next to a neighborhood street, I saw mateo.  He was driving a mini-van.  He was smiling and having fun, the van was going really fast, back and forth in the street.  I started screaming and waving my arms, running towards the van.  The windows were up, he couldn’t hear me, and he was having so much fun it wouldn’t have mattered.  He finally backed the van over the sidewalk into a yard and that’s when I reached him.  I open the door, took him in my arms, sat on the ground and just held him.  No words were offered, I just rocked back and forth holding him, crying with the sweet relief of having him safe in my arms.

It was nice to just run past the group of people that were meant to be watching him.  They had made themselves irrelevant.  There was no need to interact with them at all.  It was nice to just focus on the child.  There was absolutely nothing to discuss with the people who had agreed to watch my child.  There was absolutely no thing they could say or do to ever explain or make right the fact that under their watch, the child had been driving a minivan in the street.  A five year old child.  There was no reason to ever speak to them again.  Obviously they had demonstrated their values.

They don’t value my child’s life.  They don’t experience any integrity.  They aren’t interested in maintaining any kind of relationship with me, the child’s mother and friend.  It was nice to just run right past them without a glance or a thought.  Run right to the child and hold him safe in my arms.  That is all that matters.  Can’t change the past.  He’s safe now, out of the van, in my arms, safe.  Can know what to do in the future based on the behavior of those people.  They clearly communicated that they are not interested in caring for a child.  They obviously have no desire to communicate and interact with the the child.  They would rather let the child drive a minivan than attempt the kind of communication necessary to keep the child safe.  

I get it.  I totally understand.  Its hard sometimes to communicate with mateo.  Its hard to communicate with humans sometime, in general.  I see parents at my church that just let their kids run and talk during the opening prayer.  Its just easier for them to ignore their child and maybe smack his butt towards the end of the service after he’s been disruptive the whole time.  That’s one of the main things I love about church.  It provides the space, the opportunity for me to develop, to practice my relationship with mateo.

Now we have a thing, that we’ve developed over time and with lots of practice.  When a friend is praying, the mouth is closed and the hands are still.  Simple.  I use the same words every time so its clear, consistent, and I know that kids under seven thrive on repetition.  I want mateo to do well, so I use communication that resonates with his developmental stage.  I know what resonates with him because I got books from the library and read a whole bunch and meditated on what I found and came up with communication that fits well for our specific relationship.  I tried some things and observed the results and made adjustments accordingly, to get the results I desired.  What I desire is to have clear, honest communication with the child, so he feels respected and free to participate in the activity in a supportive way.  

He loves to go to church.  So he is willing to participate in the church environment.  He willingly honors the quiet when a friend is praying.  I have explained to him what is expected and why and he understands and agrees.  Not out of fear.  I’ve never punished him for not being quiet during the prayer.  I speak to him about it sometimes before church and after church.  I prep him before we get there, to build the healthy habit of respecting the person offering the prayer.  

I want mateo to learn and practice self-control and church is such a wonderful environment for that.  Yes its fun to run and play with your church cousins, and, part of the church experience is praying.  He understands that coming to church means he gets to play with friends and he gets to practice self-control.  It builds his confidence to know that he can stop talking.  He can hold his toy still.  Even when the kids around him are talking, he focuses on the only thing he can control, himself.   During the singing we have another little rule.  I hesitate to call it a rule.  Its a phrase that I use over and over with him, to allow him his freedom while he participates in honoring the environment around him.  I want to listen to the singing, so you talk in a quiet voice.  That’s it.  He can play and have fun with his friends, and the moment his voice gets regular volume or louder, I calmly go over, greet the children loving with a whispered, hello friends, and I tell them, “I want to listen to the singing.  Speak in a quiet voice.”  They hear me whispering and the demonstration helps them understand.  I always say the same phrase so they understand, they thrive on repetition.  One time Wyatt kept speaking loud at the table with mateo and I asked Wyatt to say a silly phrase in quiet voice.  He did and I praised him.  He honestly didn’t know how to speak in a quiet voice and he responded well to some loving guidance.  

And mateo and I talk about, what if the kids around you are playing with toys and being loud, how do you act during the prayer?  Closed mouth, still hands.  Do you tell them to be quiet or try to still their hands?  No.  Demonstrate the way to act during a prayer.  You do the right thing to honor John praying and that’s perfect.   

Dear Old Friend

     I want to tell you about my friend Lisa.  

Lisa and I have been friends for some years.  We have gotten to know each other slowly.  I knew right away that I Loved her and that we would be friends for ever, so its been really nice to just relax and let our relationship unfold slowly and naturally.  I trust that with Lisa, all is well, and nothing could ever happen that would pull us apart from the friendship.  It feels good to Love unconditionally.  

    Lisa is wonderful.  She is funny and creative.  I feel inspired by her in so many ways.  She is very calm and comfortable in her own skin.  It is soothing for me to spend time with Lisa because she's so sure and relaxed, gently loving everything.  

    Lisa has a dear old friend named Poly.  Lisa got to know Poly when she was just a small child.  They grew up together, they've sort of always been a part of each other's lives.  Things have changed over time and the two have drifted apart, but Lisa will always Love her dear old friend.  

    Being friends with Lisa means having Poly around sometimes.  She is never invited, she just shows up.  It can get pretty uncomfortable when Poly's there, she's just not any fun.  The part that never ceases to amaze me is how Lisa loves her.  Poly is welcomed in and acknowledged for who she is.  Lisa never corrects Poly and doesn't even engage with the yuck that she offers.  Lisa just holds her own calm, self assurance and loves Poly open heartedly, free of judgement and fear.  After a short time, Poly moves on, she goes away and Lisa and I return to whatever fun we were having together.  I love Lisa, she's a good friend.  And I love how Lisa loves her dear old friend.  

sound healing

 

Bilateral localized edema noted on lateral and medial aspects of legs at knee level, medium-angry red, swollen. 

Began first as general soreness, feeling like a typical bruise.  I felt sure it was not a bruise due to the location and I knew there had been no injury sustained.  Checking in with my self, I did not feel worried or scared about this development, and in fact felt a vague, nearly friendly, familiar sensation as I gently rubbed these new sore spots that had quite suddenly appeared Saturday evening.  If I did a visual inspection at that time, I don’t remember, it did not reveal anything.  

Awoke Sunday morning eager to continue the maple sap harvest.  Walked out to the woods, all around the trees collecting sap, then back to the house and noted some continued discomfort from my “bruises”.  There was no limitation in movement or use of my legs and knees.  I felt gently curious about the symptoms and mostly focused on the exciting, satisfying task at hand.  As the day progressed there was noted increasing tightness at the “bruised” areas as I was now thinking of them.  Squatting down to feed the fire was right next to painful and movements became slow and careful.  There continued to be no worry, just a loving curiosity that was in the background of the lovely day in the woods.   

Returning to the house, getting all the hot sap onto the cookstove for continued boiling, the muddy clothes were removed.  This time the inspection revealed the description above.  It was quite shocking, except not so because my body sort of looked the way it now felt.   As a nurse I have seen more than my fair share of edema, on other people.  I had never seen it on myself.  And now I viscerally understood why all those people had reported discomfort at the site of their edema.  It hurts.  What I observed on my legs was fascinating because it was not dependent edema, it was localized and it was not the knee cap or anywhere near what I think of as my knee joint.  My legs were swollen, just a sort of oval shaped area on the inside and outside of each leg, at the level of the knee.  So strange.  

    And then I knew.  Without a shadow of a doubt, clarity came lovingly into my heart and I knew what it was.  What it is.

Anger.  Anger is leaving my body.  Long held, ancient, exquisite anger.  Hatred and blame, violence.  An old friend, she’s been with me probably my whole life and now she’s moving on, taking leave of me.  Through the legs around my knees.  

Saturday I participated in a yoga and sound healing session.  Before the leaders began, I ate a tablespoon of Sacred Honey offered by my friend, who I think of as my personal witch healer.  The honey is mixed by her mentor friend and it contains micro dosing of psilocybins.  This would be my first ingesting of these generous mushrooms.  My friend and I had attended the previous yoga sound healing together and from that experience, she thought the sacred honey would compliment this next session nicely.  I can’t say for sure that I felt anything I would have described as an effect from the mushrooms, had I not consciously known that they were ingested.  But I do believe my heart was opened and my mind was more clear and quiet during the experience of the yoga movement and sound offering.

      Leading some shoulder stretches, our friend told us to lift arms to should level and strongly push away, hold hands at shoulder level, tips of fingers pointing up, she said to push away anything that does not serve you.  I felt a yucky feeling thought arise, Miguel, he doesn’t serve me, I push him away to protect myself and allow myself to be the lovely human that I know I am.  Instantly I felt relief as the next thought arose, its not Miguel, its your ideas about Miguel.  Truth.  Oh the release of it.  I continued following the yoga while I rode muted sobs in my chest, scrunched up face as silent crying fell.  It felt good and a bit confusing.  It felt like something bigger and more wonderful than just me was taking over and clearing out something that needed to be cleared.  I was sort of observing, allowing something to happen, riding the waves of release.  I felt safe.  

     I knew it was not ideas about Miguel, it was patterns of thought, habits of pain that have been focused mainly on him since moving here.  These thought patterns and resulting behaviors used to get acted out on the many people I came into contact with every day.  Living here is dramatically socially isolated so miguel became the near sole target of these habits based in anger and fear.  I brought all this with me here to the farm.  It has little to do with miguel personally.  That’s why the relief was so huge when the gentle thought arose, its not miguel, its the ideas about miguel.  Over time I had applied much of my unhealthy thought patterns directly, personally to one human.  Feeling anger towards one person, experiencing hatred towards just one person made it easy to believe that he was the problem.  But I knew it was the anger that I had brought here with me.  When I interacted with many different people all day, the anger was spread out amongst all of them with bits of fun in-between, so it may have seemed that nothing needed to be healed or released.  

As a nurse practicing in a big city Intensive Care Unit, I knew something needed to be healed.  I was not happy.  I was mean to people and it felt awful.  It felt so wonderful to make the conscious decision to leave the environment in order to heal.  I told myself that some people may be able to heal as they work a job under these conditions, but I cannot.  I choose to leave this stressful environment that accepts my nasty behavior and go somewhere else so I can really get hold of this and free myself.  Working in home hospice for two years was better and it was on my path to leave nursing entirely, take off my shoes, and start living closely with mama, on a farm.  So here I am to heal. 

Miguel was on my path to healing too and I do believe in co-creation.  His junk and patterns of thought and habits of pain clicked right in with mine and we created a terribly beautiful storm of humanness.  Living here on the farm I was free to seek healing every day instead of focus on some deathly ill person that needed my nursing book knowledge and the license I held to save them or comfort them as they transitioned.  Living here on the farm things got real raw.  Deep human pain and ancient fear were expressed in an environment of no social boundaries.  There were no counseling sessions, there weren’t even any friends to talk to.  It was me and my bare feet.  About a year and a half in there was a breakthrough and I began an honest, intimate relationship with God.  Then there were the birds, as I began to notice their singing and watch them fly and play in the trees.  The cows offered their massive size and Rock steady, stable presence every day.  I love remembering how I would lean against the massive beast in the milk house and just cry, knowing that she was lovingly, easily absorbing all the pain pouring out of me.  The brilliant blue sky stunned my eyes and the lush green pine trees offered magnificent contrast to the bright white clouds.  Freedom from city noises like cars traveling down paved streets, sirens, car doors slamming, car alarms going off, so many distracting, not pleasant sounds were now replaced with cotton wood tree leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and frogs calling all beings home.  I was immersed in the safe, ancient beauty of the planet that humans live on.  For someone seeking it as hard as I have been,  healing was inevitable.  mama earth loves all her children and love is the most powerful force in our Universe.  

Since his death almost a year ago, my dad has been actively helping me heal from much of the pain we experienced together.  The inordinate sensitivity to noises was the first to go.  Now my housemate can loudly scooch back his chair and my response is negligible, comfortable.  Then came the unhealthy relationship with food.  Dad, in non-physical form, helped me heal from what he demonstrated in physical form.  Food was about numbing.  Large quantities of food could numb, for a time, nearly anything.  Eating was like gambling or any other addiction, the mind could rest and the pain would lie dormant.  Food brought some temporary relief.  Bags of M&Ms, cartons of ice cream, bags of chips, yes to all of that.  The bummer of it was, the numbing was not soothing and it came with all this guilt.  So the guilt needed to be numbed, frequently with food.  It could get pretty ugly.  And there was body hatred to go along with it all because obviously eating like that did not make my body tight and sleek like I wanted it to be.  

Over the past year I could clearly feel all of that was going to heal.  Dad was right with me showing me how to live free of the unhealthy habits he had used, and then taught to me simply through a child’s unconscious imitation of her dad.  Under dad’s guidance, I learned to soothe myself with food.  I experienced the immense difference between intentionally, lovingly soothing, and numbing.  There was no guilt.  It was obvious that I had feelings that needed to be soothed, so he encouraged me to truly soothe them.  Consciously, lovingly buy two big bags of M&M’s and sit on your bed watching a movie or reading a book while the bags are slowly emptied.  Love yourself.  This is all you have right now and as you become free of the guilt and pain,  you will allow and receive new, more effective ways of soothing painful feelings.  Just relax my dear girl and eat a bag of chips.  Let yourself get fat and love each roll and handful of your glorious body.  Being fit and firm feels better and when this healing process is over, your body will easily return to the balanced state where it functions best.  For now just relax, go to the thrift store, and buy some bigger pants.

So I did.  The feeling of Love and acceptance through the whole process was sure, undeniable, covering everything I did.  I knew I was on my path to healing and letting go of a lifelong habit that had brought insincere, temporary relief to real problems.  And I Knew that further along this path would come loving, effective solutions to all my struggles.  My struggles wouldn’t go away but my ability to move gracefully through them would now be guided by truth and love.  God was leading me home.  

About a month ago I noticed a shift and felt ease, gentle readiness to embrace what was next.  I consciously acknowledged that I was done buying food from the dollar store to soothe myself.  I was ready to eat only nourishing farm food and to let myself feel hungry again.  In the past this would have been a determined, sort of fighting decision that I would have nearly raged against my own body to fulfill, until I again lost the battle.  Now things were totally different.  I just easily followed my heart, followed inspiration and sort of observed my eating habits change to simple eating of farm food for the sole purpose of satisfying real, empty stomach hunger and nourishing my physical body.  The ease of my life around food now is astonishing.  And yet its also a bit familiar.  Seems I have returned to an original human relationship with food.  Dad lead my healing from something he himself was never able to heal while in his physical body.  Now we reside together in comfort and ease.  Thanks dad, I love you.

The Universe is creative and infinite and writing to describe the edema in my legs proves quite the task.  Another piece of this story involves my hips.  Nearly two years ago I noticed that I was losing my ability to sit crosslegged.  Over time it became very uncomfortable for me to even sit on the floor with my child.  This was frustrating and confusing.  After awhile I just accepted it and sat in chairs a lot.  I knew that I could get my hips open again, it was possible, so I just sort of let myself be stiff.  As the healing with dad around food began, I applied those ideas to my stiff body.  Just relax and sit in a chair. Love your tight hips and know that when you’re ready, flexibility will return with ease.  So I did.  It was liberating to allow my hips to prevent a simple activity while continuing to Love my body and feeling sure that it would all shift and balance would return.

         Recently, I just followed gentle inspiration and started intentionally sitting on the floor, breathing love into the discomfort and pure knowing that balance was returning. Again this was different than in the past because there was no angry determination to fix my body and take back my open hips.  This unhealthy, ineffective habit had been replaced by a loving allowing and a clear knowing.  Balance isn't attained from struggle, it is allowed to flow through Love.  In the mornings I followed the inspiration to disregard the table and sit on a pretty cushion on the floor with my legs crossed while writing in my journal.  It just happened.  My body just seemed to easily open up.   Even as I write this I remain astonished.  That's how God works.  The magnificence of  Love's power is a bit much for the tiny human mind.  I love to feel astonished at the creative ease with which God works in my life.  I'm getting so good at allowing Love to flow through me.  

       Everything came together with love's perfect timing at the yoga sound healing session.  The yoga leader took us through 45 minutes of gentle stretches that opened and prepared the physical body to receive.  The sound leader offered vibrations from instruments and her own voice specifically intended to heal.  My body, my heart, and everything about me was lined up perfectly to open and receive, to move through some old and come out into some new.  Later that evening when I first noticed the bruised feelings on my legs, clarity came easily, flowing into me on waves of love.  This is it kari, let it all go.  Move into your next way of being.  Find out who you are without your dear old friend anger.  

drip, drip, drip

     Four kids in the woods with papa and I on Friday.  About 25 trees tapped, some with two spiles, which makes about 35 pails hanging from maple trees, collecting sap that drips in.  Drip, drip, drip, clear, sweet sap.  The free abundance offered from our great mother quietly, softly, lovingly offered.  'You may share this with the trees my dear people, please receive what you will use and enjoy, it is for all of us here.'  Thank you, yes, yes I will receive what you offer dear mother.  We have a lovely family, don’t we?

Next day early morning as mother has been turning towards grand sun, snow still covers the ground.  Temperatures suggest that dripping may have accumulated in pails.  As the child takes first morning stretches still in bed, I invite the dogs and we walk out to the woods together.  Feeling eager to peek in a pail, lift the lid and take a look.  In the short time since holes were drilled into woody flesh and generously received a tap, tap, tap, what have you offered us?  Its so fun to peek into the pails, like Christmas morning glory of opening presents and celebrating surprises.  

Oh my, well this first pail tells of great things and the collecting buckets are gathered.  So begins the long, slow trudging through the fairly deep, very heavy snow.  Each tree is visited, some holding one pail and others hold two, all holding sap on this beautiful morning.  Remove the lid, lift pail off spile and pour into collecting bucket as sap continues its drip, drip, drip onto the ground.  Replace pail and lid then mindfully lift buckets as their weight builds from the sweet gift they now hold.  Walk slowly over uneven ground to large silver milk cans ready and waiting to hold the harvest, eager to play in the woods, their fun change from holding milk for cheese in the basement.  They are the lucky cans.  

All trees east of the fire pit visited, now heading off to the west.  Carrying light, empty buckets, walk past many pails to far north west tree and begin collecting.  Heading east back towards the fire pit, buckets get heavier and my heart soars with gratitude.  Appreciate the trees, the beautiful weather, my strong, comfortable body, the fire and sugar that will come soon.  

All trees visited, pails emptied, and now seven cans hold thirty-five gallons of maple sap.  Wa-hoo!!!  What a first day!

    Papa and child start the fire around 1 pm, after chores are done and mama has been off visiting friends.  I return to the woods about 3:30, grateful to see a cloud of steam rising from two pans over a roaring fire.   Grateful to find a peaceful scene, happy child, contented papa checking the depth of sap remaining in pans.  Again I walk, filling buckets with sap that has drip, drip, dripped since this morning.  Now cans hold fifteen gallons for next day’s boil.  

This day’s thirty-five gallons is boiled down to ten gallons and hauled back to the house as the earth turns away from the sun, gently ending our glorious day.  Cook stove fire started and built to roaring.  Sap poured into five pots and crocks that absorb heat from the fire and move the sap’s water up and away for us to breathe as sweet, humid air.  Evening chores completed, sleeping clothes on, books read, and snuggles in the bed end this marvelous, sugar sweet day.  

Lice

January 10, 2021 following at least a week, maybe more, of mateo scratching his head, I checked and found adult lice.  I had also been itchy and found lice on myself.  I had been in gentle denial, even sort of pushing mateo to eat butter to treat what I hoped was typical winter dry scalp.  I vaguely remembered our town-friend that visits the farm regularly mentioning that she had lice in the relatively recent past, but who knows and it doesn't matter to me.  

That was a Sunday evening and the laundry began that night with tater and I sleeping in an entirely different bed and room.  I made the decision at that time not to tell my dear church family.  (God forgive me if that was wrong.)  I was desperately hoping “out of sight, out of mind”, if they didn’t know, they wouldn’t look for it and they wouldn’t get it.  I didn’t want anyone to get it from us.

That Sunday evening as the washing machine ran, I drove to the dollar store and paid $8 for two special combs (it was all they had and it was a kit including the chemical wash which I threw in the garbage).  Housemate researched essential oils and lined up on the table what bottles we had.  We had nearly every one recommended to treat Lice.  I made an olive oil, essential oil mixture and covered mateo’s head in it.  Can’t remember if I wrapped him in plastic that night, but I think I did, for sleep.  Then I got my sharpest scissors and cut off my hair, short.  Next morning I spread it in the garden.  I love my hair and was grateful it would grown back.

The next day, Monday, I called and spoke extensively with two friends who had personal experience with Lice, one of whom was a school teacher and had dealt with nearly hundreds of parents and families around this issue.  That friend also happens to be a “potion maker” and immediately, generously offered to make us a special “smothering oil”.  Mateo and I drove to her house on Tuesday, day 2, to get the oil plus two spay bottles of different oils that kill the adult critters.  By that time mateo had agreed to cut some of his hair which made it easier for me to emotionally handle the combing.  I did not want him to cut all his hair, as I had cut mine, and he agreed.  

By Thursday, day 4, I felt confident we were clear of the adult bugs and I had been doing laundry every day along with a deep cleaning of the large room where we had been sleeping, and diligently keeping outerwear outside in the conveniently cold, dry weather. (Pillows, blankets, stuffed bear, and chair cushion all in the car and large basket full of coats, hats, scarves, and hairbrush  out on the deck, safe from animals looking for a cozy nest.) I felt like I had done the best I could with my and mateo’s personal things.  I made the decision for mateo and I to attend a craft day at a person’s house we had never met before.  It was a wonderful, ongoing opportunity to join a Waldorf community of people and I didn’t want to miss.  Mateo and I both wore cute, new head coverings, hair soaking in oil, and I said nothing to our new friend.  I selfishly hoped that if they didn’t know, they wouldn’t get it.  (At 5 weeks, truth is out, and after inspection, the mama reports her and three children show no signs of Lice, praise God).   

I continued with the laundry and the oil and sporadic combing.  I did find and remove nits from mateo’s head, none from mine.  I was not combing thoroughly.  The friends I had spoken to described the combing process that needed to happen to find and remove all the nits and I was not doing that.  I was casually combing at best.  I don’t remember exactly but around week two, the housemate was itching and he discovered adult Lice on his own head.  I believe he started using the oil and sprays.   After several days, he cut his gorgeous, thick, shoulder length hair fairly short, leaving the long facial hair intact.  He did not do any laundry or keep any of his clothes outside in the cold.  He also told the child that the lice came from the child playing in the chicken coop.  

Sunday February 14th, 5 weeks later, I again found adults on Mateo’s head. I immediately stared laundry and put things out in the cold again.  I called my friend again and spoke specifically about the combing I had not been keeping up with.  I learned that I could get better, different combs.  Next day, after mateo’s and my first day of homeschool together, I drove 34 miles round trip to purchase the combs.  I spoke to the housemate about my perception of his lack of participation in the lice treatment.  After my comments, he put his bedding outside for 8 hours the next day. That’s it.  I heard housemate, the child’s father, telling him that he, the child, got lice because he eats too many sweets.

On the 18th I found four nits on mateo and was really frustrated with the combing.  My friend agreed to come the following day to comb us both.  I put all of housemate’s bedding outside and made up his bed with fresh, clear bedding.  I put his chore clothes outside and did a load of laundry with some of his clothes that were lying around.  I told him what I had done and that my friend was coming next day to comb, the school teacher with loads of experience, the one who had made us the wonderful oil and sprays.  I suggested he be present for her visit.  He replied defensively, telling me that I was being vindictive and that I was confused.  I held my tongue, which was amazing.

Later that evening as mateo and I were getting ready for bed, I felt the gentle inspiration to shave my head clean.  After mateo fell asleep, I sat in the bathroom with an entire pack of new razors that housemate had from years ago, before his beard grew out.  A few passes with one of the razors showed that my hair was too long, so I got my super sharp scissors and cut the hair as short as I could without cutting my scalp.  It was scary.  Then I tried again with the razors.  No go.  It just didn’t work.  I used to shave my legs so I had imagined it would be easy to shave my head.  Nope.  Then I felt clear inspiration to take mateo to the barber shop and have BOTH our heads shaved.  Yes.  That felt clear, easy.  Done.  Then we’d be done.  By this time I had contacted 2 other friends, so a total of four different families had shared their lice experiences with me.  I felt I had enough valid information to make good decisions about treating the lice.  I wanted to be done.  I am not willing to comb.  There is no one to comb me every day and I will not put mateo through the combing, knowing that we are sharing space with someone who is not participating in the treatment process.  

So we went to the barber.  It was fun and we took pictures and went out to eat and bought new toys at the thrift store and now we’re done.  Now I can focus on laundry and cleaning without being terrified that there are nits in our hair just waiting to hatch.  We don’t have any hair.  YAY!  

  (I know we could get it from housemate again and I’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it.  For now, I’m done.)  

Rooster

 Rooster gotta go

     The oldest rooster, he stays.  He was hatched out here by one of our lovely hens and then snatched away by me to be raised in a card board box in the house.  Daily I would put him and a few other chicks in a cage in the yard so they could be safe from cats and feel the sun on their heads and the earth under their feet.  That’s how I used to “do it”, raise chicks.  Now I step back and watch how the hens “do it”.  Anyway, that old rooster, The Rooster, he’s at least five years old, so handsome.  He stays.

     Red rooster gotta go.  He was also hatched out by one of the hens but was then raised by her, with other chicks, running wild and free on the farm.  Red will be three years old this summer.  He is a handsome fellow.  Soon after Red's long, fancy tail feather grew in, and his full crow, he was properly schooled by The Rooster.  Red was not a full year old when this happened.  The Rooster let him know, on no uncertain terms, that Red was an “extra”.  This flock of big, fluffy hens belonged to The Rooster and Red could find his place outside of The Rooster’s range.  Red is a rooster so he acted like one, for a minute.  He kicked his feet forward at The Rooster, aiming his big, sharp spikes at the old guy.  They beat wings and squawked and earnestly tried to kill each other.  The Rooster only has one spike left but he still put Red in his place.  It was a fantastic display of normal rooster behavior.  I love observing the animals in their natural habitat.  They were out in the open, free to roam anywhere on mother earth, so I felt it was a fair fight.  I broke things up once with a broom, just because I was still learning about what normal is for a rooster.  I have watched different roosters fight to the death and I didn’t like it.  I see now the conditions were different for that fight.  This fight was fair because of the age difference and because they had both been raised here on this farm.  No one was defending their territory from an unknown, outside invader.  I imagine The Rooster had observed this young Red growing up and knew what would happen long before I happened to notice a conversation between the two of them.  Oh I love watching the animals.  So bottom line, Red learned his place and has been happily a part of the flock ever since.

     The flock has evolved.  Now, Red gotta go.  

      Black chicken hatched out two chicks and raised them up well.  They are both sort of a creamy white.  They are not white.  There are white chickens in our flock and they are from the store.  I would describe them as aggressive, towards other chickens and towards cats.  Over the years there have been people that lived here, started a little flock of chickens, then moved on, leaving the birds.  So our flock does have some store chickens.  I think black chicken was a store chicken and she still hatched some eggs, that turned out to be cream, not white, chicks.  One of these has now declared himself a rooster with his long tail feather and long, draping neck feathers.  He goes.

    There is a two year old rooster that is generally white but has fantastic decorations on his back and wings.  There are many different colors adorning those feathers and I would describe this rooster as magnificent. He stays.  But the black chick that was hatched out last spring, he goes.  The tail feather and neck feathers have become obviously rooster-ish and that has secured his place with the other young cream rooster and Red.  

    There is another rooster that gets to stay.  Hatched out last spring, this is a beautiful black bird that has developed gold and many other colors on his back and neck.  Before there were any rooster signs, this young gawky teen-age chick was hopping around on one foot.  I generally let the chickens fend for themselves and may the strong survive, but this was such a pretty bird, just hatched and raised by a good mama, it seemed reasonable to help it along just a bit.  I was assuming it was a she, a hen that would lay eggs for us. 

     Getting hold of her one day a close inspection revealed what I believed to be some sort of injury with inflammation.  So I fed her butter. Butter from the cows here directly reduces inflammation, and its tasty.  Feeding butter to a chicken is easy unless there are other chickens near by that will take the butter and also attack the injured chicken.  The first time I tried to help this bird I caused her quite a bit of grief, and she missed all the butter.   Over time I learned how to wait until she was mostly alone and then throw the butter right in front of her beak so when another chicken came, she had already eaten it and the other chicken got bored and left.  Just two or three days of this and the chicken was now my best friend, seeking me out in the mornings, giving me those lovely chicken eyes and cooing noises, where's my butter?  Well I do love a tame chicken, she instantly became my special little friend, especially with all those pretty colors.  And her foot healed up, she walks completely with ease now.  I mean he, he walks with ease.  Well after I had fallen in love, the long tail feather grew out and the neck feathers became obviously rooster-ish.  OK.  He stays.  

    I love our flock of chickens.  I love how the birds just handle everything and hatch out chicks then raise them up into healthy, sturdy chickens.  They are so generous.  Here you go human.  Have some yummy eggs to eat, and we will just independently replace ourselves too.  You just sit back and watch.  Close our coop every evening and open it up in the morning and we will take care of the rest.  We love you humans, we are dinosaurs and its nice to live with you.