Trust

It has been some time since my life has been as unsettled as it is now. We are moving – or so I think. We close on our new home in mid-July. I am trying to figure out the logistics of getting my new dog. We are looking to sell our home. Lots of new things to think about – finances, fences, roof repair, bathroom plumbing. I thought that was behind me, really. I did not think I would ever leave Bedlam Farm and many people wonder about it.

In some ways, Bedlam Farm was a fort for me, insulating me from my personal troubles, my fear, other people, the terrifying prospect of intimacy with another human being – the point of life, I think. So I found a beautiful 90-acre island and went mad, as disconnected men leave their world and families end up on islands tend to do. There are no forts, of course, that keep out the world, no islands in our time. Just as money does not make people secure, there is no hiding from life. It will find you, wherever you are, and it does not really care how much money you have in your IRA’s.

The task, I think, is to live meaningfully for as long as you can, as as deeply as you can. This is the spiritual work, I think, to understand you are not alone, that there is nothing fear and anger can do for you besides make you unhappy. It simply  brings nothing good. To have good things in your life, you have to close your eyes, take a breath, take the plunge.  And to trust in these things, many still new to me. Intimacy is not frightening, but nourishing, vital. Trust is a sacred work. To trust your own decisions. To trust your ability to take care of yourself and your life. Do not put your e-mail in books, they say, as dangerous people will seek you out. Do not hold art shows in your home and let people in. Do not blog about your life. Give up on love, but not on your IRA’s. Fear you body and check it all the time. Check each item in your grocery receipt to make sure you are not cheated.

On this weekend, I am aware of remembering the soldiers and heroes. I am also aware of remembering how difficult it is to be open, how painful to trust yourself and your life, and the people around you. How important. This, I think, is one fundamental reason why my move is important. It will not change my life. It will not make my problems go away. It will not be a perfect life, any more than this farm with animals is or could be a perfect life. But it requires me to continue the process of being open. Of trusting the future. Of sharing my life. Of looking at the world in a different way, a new way. Just as spirituality is a constant work, so is creativity. New ideas, new images, new sights, people and challenges are important. They lead to things. They grow and deepen the stories of our lives. It was almost two years ago that I drove by a farmhouse and saw an old pony standing in front of a collapsed barn and I pulled in to take a photo. That visit has changed my life.  The New Bedlam Farm is no fort, it is right in the middle of life. Can’t wait. You cannot escape life, only stand in awe of it and the way it finds you, if you let it.

From The Roost

From the roost, the chickens inaugurate the Memorial Day Weekend. The weekend is about remembering the men and women who have given their lives in our wars, and I will do that. For me, it also means taking some time to remember the parts of my life that I have lost, changed or wish to remember. I do not value nostalgia, and once I learned that everyone in the world is as frightened of things as I was and sometimes am, I have stopped telling my pity and struggle stories, or tried, and also learned to say goodbye to those parts of me that slept through life, and shrank and diminished my existence. I will remember those things this weekend also.

Grass Roots: A community rises

Sometimes, I get to witness something that is much larger than what it appears to be. The burned-out hulk of the historic Bedlam Corners General Store – it inspired the name of my farm – has been sitting at the center of town for two years, falling apart, inhabited by pigeons, rotted by rain, snow and wind, exposed to the world, an open sore at the heart of a community. This is literally a festering sore. The store has been the center of the community forever, and the center of the community is now an ugly 150 year-old heartbreak.

In this town, as in many rural towns, government is rarely seen or heard, and doesn’t do much. The store just seemed to be falling apart a bit more each day.  The local culture seems to prize being left alone as much as anything else. Thom and Linda Janidlo passed by the store the same as the rest of us, but they couldn’t sit idle any longer and organized an impromptu meeting last week. I thought they were naive, ridiculous, really. The damage was so great, the community so disconnected from it, it just seemed impossible.

But it did not seem that way today. More than a score of people showed up, bringing drills, shovels, tools, food. They shoveled dirt, pigeon droppings, debris. They hauled away a half dozen dumpster loads of trash, boarded up open windows, pried open doors. They worked for hours, quietly, without a moment’s complaint or difficulty. Everyone seemed to know what to do, shared the work, divided responsibility, wanted to do more. Did more.

These were quiet people, not used to being photographed, not interested in talking much or taking credit. They just worked for hours in the hot and sticky sun. I spent much of the day with them, and was touched and moved. Watching them haul things around while I took photos, I felt guilty, as I sometimes do. But when I saw the photos, I was glad it was recorded. I was doing my own work. The meaning of grass roots, I think, a reminder of the great American notion: see what the individual can do. Congratulations, Thom and Linda. You did more than you know. Album going up on Facebook.

Into My World

Come for a minute, into my world, a sea of flowers, Irises as they fall into my trap. Lying on the edge of the garden, watching the sun drop, I am like a fox in the woods, waiting and watching, still and patient. And then, at 5:02, accompanied by bugs, ants, bees and hummingbirds, the sun pops out of the gathering clouds, and lights up the Irises light a Broadway spotlight. I was ready.

Gone Fishing

I came across this very contented couple fishing near the Battenkill in Salem,N.Y. I pulled over and asked if I could take their photo. They said sure, as people do around here, not yet as suspicious as our urban and suburban counterparts. They said they were fishing for trout, and then throwing them back. It’s the sitting here together that we love, they both said. A perfect way to spend any part of a holiday. Might join them over the weekend.

Shushan Farm

This is one of the loveliest farms in Washington County, one of my favorite farms, in Shushan, one of my favorite places. It seems almost timeless to me.

Surprise

Linda Janidlo called me over to say she had found a book in the debris. Bit of a surprise. I’ll put a Facebook album up later.

Saving The General Store

The volunteers are boarding up all of the open windows and doors to protect the building from any further deterioration.

Cleanup: General Store

The Bedlam Corners General Store was heavily damaged by fire more than two years ago, and it was deteriorating rapidly, the windows open to the rain and pigeons, and the waste and debris rotting. Last week two residents of Hebron, Thom and Linda Janidlo decided to do something about it, and this morning a score of volunteers from the town descended on the historic building – the heart of the town – to clean up the waste and debris, clear and inside and outside of garbage and seal up the windows until the future of the building is deciding. I’ll be putting up a photo album on Facebook later today, but it is so that people power is the most stirring kind of power to see.

The number of people grew throughout the morning and people also brought muffins, donuts, coffee and water. A tremendous amount of work was done and people driving by were shocked at the improvement. I’m going back this afternoon to check on things and the album will be up later today.

Neighbors. Volunteers

Message to me

This old farmhouse and sign – it is close to our new home – called out to me yesterday as the sun and showers traded places. I am looking for some parades to go see, maybe Salem on Monday and take some photos. Memorial Day parades are especially touching to me. This morning I’m going over to the Bedlam Corners Store to take some photos, and I plan to do a lot of reading today. I’ve come to some important new places spiritually and I want to share that also. Mostly I want to hang around for three days with Maria and read about a half-dozen books. I am plowing through the new Robert Caro book on Lyndon Johnson and loving it very much. Next, Jamie Lee Burke.

Message From The Roost

Went out to the barn to check on the chickens and make sure they were locked up snugly, as adult and baby boxes use the farm as a highway to get through the woods. Scary place for a chicken, but our system is holding up Freaky the rooster keeps an eye on the hens, keeping them near the house and the barn. The donkeys watch the pasture. Not foolproof, but so far, good enough. I sort of missed the impending holiday until it dawned on me this morning that it was Memorial Day.

The message from the roost was clear enough. Stop pecking and hunting for bugs when the sun lowers, go to a quiet and simple place and be with yourself, honor the transition between work and rest, cluck softly and in a spiritual way. The blog will be up and running all weekend and you are more than welcome to spend some of your holiday with me, Maria, Simon, Lulu, Fanny, Rocky, Frieda and Lenore, and the barn cats and chickens. We will be talking walks, taking photos, drawing sketches, taking hikes, brushing donkeys, napping with dogs. If I can find a parade, I’ll go there with my camera. Looking forward to a few days alone with the former girlfriend. See you in the morning.

Magic Dish: Birdbath

After the rains today, I saw that my birdbath had become a magic dish of sorts, a mirror that told me a different story each time I looked at it, and every time I moved around it. I’ll go back tomorrow in the sun for more stories. This one told of light and darkness and fear and hope, and laughter and change. I loved listening to it.

Linda and Thom Janidlo

Two years ago, the Bedlam Corners Bedlam Store caught fire just before Christmas, and was severely damaged. It was as if the small town’s heart was broken. For many years, this historic building was the center of the town, its commercial and cultural focus, the one place we could all meet and talk to one another. For two years, it has been still, empty, deteriorating.  We have all wondered what is happening with the building, we all wince every time we drive by.

Thom and Linda Janidlo decided to try and jumpstart its return, to heal the town’s broken heart. Today I found them working with a dumpster to begin cleaning the store out – there is much pigeon waste and debris. Not easy or pleasant work. Thom understands the idea of service and leadership – he was a marine platoon commander in Vietnam. It still shows. Tomorrow, they are organizing a clean-up at the store, from 9 a.m. through the day. I’ll be there to take some photos. I’m putting up an album of the today’s clean-up and the wrenching interior of this valuable building on Facebook.

Hardware Department

Performance Auto Body

It was not easy to get Maria and Monty out to pose for a photo. First time for them. But I am grateful to them. Two weeks ago, I hit a deer after going out to dinner, and this morning Maria and I went to drop off the rental car and pick my car up. I missed my car it is a great car and I love it. Performance Auto Body is working hard on their business, as the mild winter left them with the worst winter in 26 years (I never thought of it, but what could be worse for an auto body shop than a mild winter? Nothing, says Monty). Maria is working hard to get Performance Auto Body into the 21st Century.

They have a facebook page and a blog and Maria also takes photos every day of each car and puts them up on her website so customers can follow their progess. I admire Monty’s great work and Maria’s energy and creativity. I often have to bludgeon writers and artists into putting up a blog, but Maria and Monty figured out it matters and are putting the word out. They do not need to be bludgeoned into using technology to move forward. They had a tough year, but are coming back with energy, honesty, good work and creativity. Social media is helping them also. I appreciate them and am very thankful for the wonderful work they did on me car. I cannot imagine going anywhere else with a banged-up car. So this closes the deer chapter. Two weeks of some paperwork, reports, records, signatures. The damage to the care was $3,900. Insurance paipaid all but $200 and most of the car rental. Chapter closed.

Bedlam Corners General Store

There are some people in the world who complain about how things are and used to be, and some people who do not complain but simply try and make things better. I drove by the burned-out general store in Bedlam Corners, which has been standing and deteriorating for a couple of years now while the owners and the town try and figure out what to do with it,  and saw Thom and Linda Janidlo with a dumpster hauling trash out by themselves. “What are you doing?” I asked. Cleaning out the store, they said. They are organizing a general clean-up of the store for 9 a.m. Friday and have asked me to come by and take photos. My pleasure. Anyone who can help is welcome to come  bye and help. Route 30 and Chamberlain Mills Road, at the center of downtown West Hebron. Photo album going up this afternoon on my Facebook Page.

I am not like Thom and Linda – I don’t really want to be cleaning up the store. But I am grateful for them. They make people like me possible.

Route 30 Farm

Writers, artists, photographers are often, I think, called back to the same thing, something that touches them, stirs their souls, excites and arouses them. I always want to stop and take a photo of this farm, often with a different lens, at a different time, from a different perspective. I love the way this farm is line up – on a straight plane, the field in front of it, the road behind it, the hills behind the road. I like this shot around dawn, a soft light, a balanced image. A timeless image, too, more like a painting to me that a photo. I don’t know what this image touches me, but I will always come back to it.

Sweet Dreams From The Roost

Sweet dreams from the roost.

May you imagine the life you wish,

and ride bright dreams to the morning

Plans For Rocky

If all goes according to plan, Rocky will be ours sometime in July. We are beginning to figure out how to deal with this new element in our lives with animals, a blind 34-year-old Appaloosa who has lived alone in his pasture for more than 15 years. I believe the transition will be relatively simple.

Donkeys are intuitive creatures, and the animal vets and farriers and others who know them all think they will figure out quickly that Rocky is old, blind and no challenge for them. He may like being around other equines.  Horses are herd animals. Or he may not. Just to be sure, we will build a fence in the pasture and seal the donkeys off for a month or so, just until everyone is used to one another. Then, they will all work it out. We will rearrange the barn so that Rocky has access to a stall inside if he wishes. Also put a hay feeder in so he can eat off of the ground in winter. He knows Maria and I well, and he is comfortable around Lenore and dogs generally, more than Simon. We plan to do rotational grazing at the New Bedlam Farm, moving sheep, donkeys and ponies around three or four lots of pasture.

If we have the money, we will convert the collapsed barn in Rocky’s pasture into a three-sided Pole Barn for shade and shelter. We are looking forward to having Rocky in our lives every day.

Warrior For Light

I’ve run away from home,

to enlist,

in the Army Of Light,

to wander the world,

prowl the dawn,

to look for the dark corners,

where light is forgotten,

or blocked out  by curtained windows,

and closed and angry minds.

To chase the shadows,

and light up the dark holes,

and chase the darkness,

and tell all the people,

of the power of light,

to lighten our hearts,

and brighten our souls.

I am a Warrior,

In the Army Of Light,

Fighting in the real battles of the world.

Fox News: Reunion

It is quiet on the fox front. The detente between us and the fox family seems to hold. We see the adult foxes walk up and down the hill next to the farm, see their leavings on the path, see them crossing into the meadow. But they seem to stay away from the chickens. Perhaps it is the donkeys, who remain vigilant. Or maybe there are plenty of rabbits and mice for them. The kits are still up in the den, but will probably move away in the summer.

My own sense of it is that once we accepted their presence, they altered their habits, sensed it somehow, and just began hunting away from the farm. We went up there the other day and saw all kinds of bones lying around. Perhaps they came across a dead deer.

For awhile, it seemed clear that they were hunting us. Now it seems they just co-exist with us. Some things are not really known to us. It was touching to see Fran and Maria re-unite a bit. Meg just walked up to her in the driveway and took some seeds out of her hand and they two seemed to be communicating with one another, perhaps reminiscing about those days after the fox assault where Fran was hanging on. Fran is very easy around me and Maria. She loves to eat out of Maria’s hand. Maria loves to feed her. These two do have a special bond.

Fran looks thinner these days and is losing some energy. She hangs around with the other chickens most of the time, but is often off by herself.

Remembering Izzy

A lived lived in fear is, by definition, a small life, I believe.

Most of us feel fear at one point or another, but for me, self-awareness has come to mean stepping out of that mindset  – turning away from the fearful world and the fearful people and institutions that run it – and learning to trust my life and the people in it. That is sometimes lonely and isolating. If you watch the news you will see right a way that this is not the way much of our world thinks. Don’t expect to feel part of the mainstream.

Fear and anger are first cousins and decisions made in fear are small decisions, decisions that are about advancing our illusions of security, rarely about living your life. The meaning of being human is larger than that, asks of us more faith, offers more creativity and purpose, challenges us to live our lives out of fear, and not inside of it.

Someone close to me is torn about whether to take a job that pays a lot of money or to pursue her heart, follow the magic in her head, listen to the fairies and spirits, and do what she loves.

We have gone back and forth a few times. But it pays well, she says. It offers insurance. It is safer.  There are regular paychecks. I know these voices, I have heard them all of my life. Almost everyone she knows – everyone but me – is urging her to take it. I don’t give advice unless asked. But she did ask and I told her I hope she finds faith in her talent and follows her heart into work and a life that she loves. Even she admits she doesn’t really want the job. And do we really accept the notion that that we ought to spend our lives enslaved in obligation and anxiety? It seems a small life to me, to accept it on this narrow and soul-draining terms. But other people are not me, and I am not them.

To some extent, I have been dealing with this myself and so has Maria. We are going ahead and purchasing our new home before we have sold this one, and the prospect of carrying two mortgages and two properties has definitely brought out some of the old voices in my head. Even the realtor says she isn’t sure what we should do.  But I am going forward – we are going forward. I believe there are a lot of things bigger than me pulling us towards this place – an independent and admirable woman, an aging and dutiful pony, Maria’s work, a call for rebirth and renewal. I am not easy, when all is said and done, sitting on my hands waiting for the world to come around to me. In our culture, following one’s heard is incompatible with the complex and expensive ways in which we are supposed to live, the things we are supposed to need. The fear that is instilled in us every time we watch the news, see a doctor, talk to other people. Fear is viral. It travels faster than anything and there are no vaccines. But life is short, and life is precious, and at the end of it, I want them to say of me that he lived his life, not in fear, but in purpose.

I guess I would rather live a poor life than a small one.

Bedlam Farm Goddesses

What can I say? I love women (no, Maria, I am not flirting!) and I am tickled to be part of the “Anointing The Goddess” art show, the last Pig Barn Bedlam Farm Gallery Show , at least on this farm. There will be goddess art, sketches, collages. And Bedlam Farm Goddess Photos also. We are printing a series of photos (just prints, so not expensive) featuring the goddesses I live with – Mother, Minnie, Lenore, Lulu, Fanny. The chief goddess, of course, is my former girlfriend. Soon after we met, I offered her the use of the Studio Barn. Her Goddess Empire has now expanded to include much of the second floor, the Studio Barn, the Pig Barn. If we stayed her one month longer, she would have grabbed the Big Barn as well.

When we looked at the New Bedlam Farm, she immediately consigned me to the woodshed and took over the workshop and the second floor, plus the standing barn for her gallery. “Adorable,” she says when she likes something, and I started measuring the floor space in the woodshed. Yes, she is gentle, and yes, she is good to animals, but do not be standing in front of her when you want something, or you will have tire tracks on your forehead. She is the Big Goddess of them all, but she won’t allow any photos of herself. So I’m kicking off my own goddess photo series in the spirit of the art show, June 23-24, a farewell to this wonderful farm.

Riding Out The Storm

When it rains – which is often lately – Lenore and Frieda retreat to the top step of the porch and gaze out at the world from there. These two have become very close, very easy with one another, the more so, I think, since Rose and Izzy died. Lenore thinks nothing of stealing Frieda’s treats and parading around with them, and Frieda lets her do just about anything she wants. They are great pals, perfect rainmates on the porch.

My Life

I met a woman yesterday who said she loved my blog and my books, but really wanted to meet Maria. She said she watched the photos of Maria with the donkeys and Rocky, and she imagined her to be a sweet and gentle person. This is so. Maria is the sweetest and gentlest person I have ever known, that that does not mean she is not tough. She is very tough. She has a spine of steel. She has overcome a lot of difficult things to be who she is, get where she is, do what she loves. I love the gentleness in Maria, and I love the Sicilian part, too. I generally do what I am told.

Some years ago, I decided the best path for me was to surround myself with strong and smart women and do what they tell me. I did not imagine how prescient this feeling was. Everyone I work for now is a woman – agent, editors, teachers. They are all strong and smart, and I generally do what I am told. It is working out. It may be the secret of life. I believe men have messed up their chance to run the world – wars, Washington, crime, pollution, greed. Time for a different way.  Maria has begun a series of notecards giveaways on her site. The first notecard giveaway was this morning. The next is Thursday.

My Heroes

I wonder sometimes what it means to be brave. I wonder what courage really is. I met a friend tonight who led a Marine platoon in Iraq and saw so many of his friends and brothers die, and he was surely brave. I met a woman nearly crippled by a panic attack and when she stopped sobbing and shaking, she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath and started planning for her next painting, and she was brave.

I know a woman who works in a crummy job in a stifling office with uncaring bosses, and every day, she manages a way to smile and light up a few corners of her drained and gray world, and she is brave. I know another who gave up her office job to follow her heart and live her life, for as long as she can, for as long as it lasts, and she is brave. I know an artist who was suffocated for much of her life by angry people who swallowed her up, and then one day she broke free and she is brave. I know a young couple who sold their little house in New Jersey and moved upstate to buy a farm and make cheese, and they are terrified and very brave.

I know a woman who stuck her hand out and got bitten by a dog she was trying to save so she could put a collar on him and save him from a busy highway, and she was brave. My heroes live on the edges, and they are mythical people, dreamers and strivers swimming through oceans of fear to get to the other side. To get to the edge of life and meaning. Sometimes, the fear gushes up in me like a flooded stream, and I gasp in surprise and I list all of the good and wonderful things I have allowed into my life, and I smile and laugh and count the minutes until tomorrow. And then, I am brave.