To Elisa,

In regards to your most recent post. You have made me think about my life yet again.

I am not currently apart of any organized religion nor do I know if I will join one in the future, but I hope that by now you have noticed that I am deeply spiritual.

I guess the main difference is the name of who we pray to and where. In this post I will refer to the divine as God. At this point in my life I don't know if I can refer to the divine as a physical being or the entire cosmos, but I can't deny that there is a beauty to every part of life. Science is not enough for me and I know this because I don't find beauty in mixing chemicals or fixing machinery.

To me there is nothing more beautiful than knowing that if I put a seed in the ground in early spring it will grow to be a plant that fruits and provides nutrition for something else. And when it dies that fall and it composts through the winter, putting nutrients back into the soil for another plant to grow the following year. This is the simplest example to come up with. Yes chemists have come up with long boring chemical equations that I detest to explain the fundamentals of nature, but that is not fulfilling. There has to be something more, to provide reasoning. I just don't have a name for it.

Sometimes I call it nature, but I love it and feel so connected to it when I take the time to bring it in my life.

Often times I read your posts as soon as you post them, Elisa, because I'm eager to hear what you have to say. We share a lot of the same core values, and I don't think religion has anything to do with it. Honesty, forgiveness, and grace. These are things that the best of us strive for despite our imperfections.

Recently, someone I love has betrayed me. Used my own regrets against me, thrown them in my face, and continued to taunt me. It was so hard and so hurtful. You never expect the ones closet to you to be quite so harmful and readily to do so. It has made think twice about my life and those I choose to include in it.

I was in the middle of making lunch when this happened, but when I tried to eat I couldn't. I was sick to my stomach with disappointmen, anger, and the most scary of all-enraged. I couldn't just stand there. I had to leave. To get away. To think. To breathe.

Looking at the 1/4 tank of gas left in the jellybean I drove out Peoria Rd. Eventually I stopped and sat by the river to think. To cry. I bawled my eyes out not able to understand what had just happened or why. I was there for her when she needed someone and was abandoned, and then she betrays me.

I am well aware of my worst mistake and I don't need someone to point it out to me. I have come to terms with my mistakes and accepted them. I live with them everyday, they are what make my heart heavy each and every moment. I just never realized that they could still tear me apart until now.

A huge part of me wants to let the situation fester, I want to hate her. And that saddens me. How can you hate someone that you are biologically programmed to love, it's against nature. But that monster tears at me and I ache.

I am finding myself thinking about what you wrote and grace. How could I possibly forgive her? I'm not sure if I even want to, but I have to. It's not something I can ever forget. Then I heard something sitting there:
"Oh sweet angel of mercy with your grace like the morning
Wrap your loving arms around me.
Oh sweet angel of mercy with your grace like the morning
Wrap your loving arms around me.

Hey unfaithful I will teach you
To be stronger, to be stronger.
Hey ungraceful I will teach you
To forgive one another.
Hey unfaithful I will teach you
To be stronger, to be stronger.
Hey unloving, I will love you,
I will love you, I will love you."

"

Spring Has Sprung

here in the Pacific Northwest and I'm so happy about it. I'm so exhausted its ridiculous, my back hurts, and my rotator cuff on both sides isn't feeling too hot. BUT

The yard is starting to come along, and I helped my sister recover the greenhouse so we can use it. Last year the chickens decided to call it home and poop all over it. Chicken poop isn't that bad, but when it's thirty-way too much poop for me. Keep in mind that the chickens are usually free-roaming and they decided to call the greenhouse home :/

I planted a rhubarb plant yesterday. I'm very excited about this because it's one of the things I do remember about my mom's dad. Grandpa used to farm before he passed, and I feel closer to him when I do too. It's kinda weird looking up to someone you don't know and is deceased, but its definitely not the first time for our culture.

Sometimes I feel that the American way of life has lost touch with its roots and traditions that we don't have an identity. We have become so tolerant because of this, but its not always beneficial. Many of my generation don't want to experience their culture, so what will bind us?

Buying shit-consumerism? Sarah Palin? Guns?

Who the hell knows. Just because you come from a strong cultural background, it doesn't mean you have to be a bigot about everyone else. I'm not advocating world peace like Miss America, I'm just saying that I feel disjointed as an American. Where do I stand in this huge ass country, and does what I have to say matter?

I wish I had all the answers sometimes, but that would make life boring and predictable. It's more fun this way. And the best thing about trying to get back to roots, there are so many-Apache, Tuscorora, French Yuganot, Scotch, Mexican, Judaism, Catholicism, Baptist, and so much more. If there's something I don't like I can incorporate something else.

-Goose

Biology Lab.

So far the least useful lab ever. We went over the scientific method until we beat  the dead horse.

Speaking of dead things...

On Wednesday we sent our steer to butcher. I have sent other animals to butcher, many times in fact, but it was never as hard as this. 

Before I continue, I want to let you know that I am not some vicious person who enjoys killing animals for my selfish life. Every animal that my family raises is loved, appreciated, and well cared for. Many of the animals we raise would never make it elsewhere. The steer we just butchered-we called him Junior-was born last April. April in Oregon last year was not kind, there were inches of mud, cold winds, and the ultimate weather to give a calf pneumonia. When Junior was born he didn't nurse off his mother very well so we had to teach him. Anyone who has stood next to the flank of a cow knows that it is not always the most comfortable place to be, but we did it anyways. This calf needed help or he might not make it. For a couple of weeks we thought that he had caught pneumonia. The property that we were renting at the time was beautiful pasture in the summer, but a bog from November to May. There was no place to get the calf out of the weather. All we could do was try. He ended up making it ok.

This is just one example of where we have helped a situation that would otherwise be fatal. 

If you ask how can I eat these animals that I care for, or how can I eat my pets the answer is not so simple. For starters, farm animals are not pets. That is not what they were domesticated for. My family's pets are the spoiled kittens who wait at the door everytime my sister leaves the house. I have a compassion for animals of all sorts, and I am never cruel. I was raised to eat meat so it is the norm for my family's diet, so I don't think twice about eating meat. But ever since we have started eating meat that we have raised I am so much more appreciative of the whole process. I am thankful to the animal for its carcass that will nourish my body and allow me to be strong and care for other animlas. And I know in my soul that the animal is thankful for a life free of abuse and full of adoration. 

To continue Wednesday's story I should tell you that it started at 5:43 am. I am not a morning person, whatsoever. We shooed the steer out of the barn and were going to start moving him through the different pastures, but he wouldn't leave the barn door area. He wanted his mother even though he was well past weaning age; he was 20 months old. (We don't put our animals through the traumatic experience of forced weaning, we allow them to wean themselves since it is the most natural process for both involved. It also happens to be the most cost effective, since the longer they drink milk the less hay supplementation they need.) He ended up charging at us, and I swear I have never hopped a fence so fast-THANK YOU ADRENALINE!  At least I know my fight or flight reflexes work :) 

After we finally got the bull to where he needed to be, a gun went off. It was incredibly loud, but quick and painless. He didn't feel a thing. It was slightly shocking since I had never been exposed to the butchering process so closely. The previous butchers we have used, you load up the animal on the trailer, truck them over, say goodbye, then go home. This was...very direct.

It hurt to hear it and to see what happened next, but I didn't cry. I said thank you, to Junior. He will nourish my family over the next year and I am incredibly grateful. Am I cold for not even shedding one tear? No, I don't think I am. I maintain my composure and continue my life, not as if it never happened though. I am truly affected, beyond belief. But I can't break down and cry, there are other animals to take care of and other chores to be done. 

Life is about accepting the good with the bad, without carrying it like baggage. So yes, I eat meat and I'm proud of the strength it takes to do so. Sorry if that offends some.

Goose