A post about something we all know so well...
This is a post that is simply emotion, emotion and processing and sharing. Like any other Internet thoughts...
Exhaustion
Heartbreak
Weariness
As I grew up, perhaps one of the biggest lessons that I still carry with me is how to persevere. You see, when you have 100 bales of hay to unload from the truck to the hay loft and rain is impending and you're only 30 bales in, you've only one way to go: forward. In my life, stopping, resting, and giving up weren't options. There is this moment where everything feels like it's falling down around you, your muscles ache and your eyes seems to move in slow motion over everything in front of you. You think "I can't possibly finish this, there is no way my body or heart can take more." But, you do. You take that next crucial step that carries you, like a automaton into the next task, the next bale, the next day without someone you thought you couldn't live without.
The problem is, life has to carry on, no matter how horrible your present circumstances may be and you can't just let everything and everyone else slip through the cracks due to your suffering. That's not how it works.
I can remember a night in the freezing cold, new baby lambs and goats on their way, where my mother and I desperately constructed three small stalls out of the larger old cow stalls in our barn so that the ewes and lambs would have peace in their early days. We cursed and laughed and cried while our numbs fingers fumbled for nails and hammer strokes missed the mark over and over. We lugged massive straw bales to fill the stalls with warmth. Several times as our backs ached and as we comically and painfully rolled and righted a 7 foot round bale into the barn so the animals would have fodder through the next few weeks, we wanted to give up. We were starving and thirsty and freezing, but our duty was to the new lives coming, the flock, and even to each other.
We couldn't stop.
Again, years later I found myself falling rapidly ill while I still had two fields of horses to feed, turn out and throw hay to, and I felt like there was no way I could possibly walk another step. What then? The poor horses are left to an empty stall without food, water or hay? No no. I walked on.
These memories are among hundreds others like it, memories without any pleasantry or heroic soldiering, memories with bitterness and trudging through chores cursing every animal and weed in my path. And there are others even sweeter, memories of hot sweaty days, skin tanning, lemon honey water in condensing jars while myself and dear companions weeded and staggered in the heat, singing songs and telling stories, distracting ourselves from how many more rows there were left untended.
Oh and the bittersweet heart trials. The drudgery and fear and paralyzation of thinking you couldn't endure more pain or recover from such a heartbreak. From such betrayal. Yet, you did. You wept, slept fitfully, drank too much, worked overtime, went to the gym, ate too much and did whatever it took to pull yourself away from him...or her...
But look at us now! Recovered, maybe relapsed and on the upswing, or maybe back down in the pits feeling hopeless yet again, feeling the need for a hand, an arm, a new pair of eyes, a new world view. All is possible here, on this earth, with these bodies and these hearts. We can pull through.
We have to.
We can't stop ticking. The clock doesn't stop just because we feel weak. Your partner won't stop needing you just because your world is rocked. Your children won't stop needing food because you are too tired. It is overwhelming and terrifying to be alive. To feel so much and to feel so flawed.
Yet, would you rather live a languid life without any struggle to show you the sweetness of reprieve? Would you rather be laid out on your chaise lounge with the world passing you by without any feeling of true accomplishment? I know, speaking from experience in the hard working world, that while I am desperately tired and needy for a breath, I am thankful for the ethic I have been given and the choice I have not be given.
It's a hard life, but it's a beautiful life and we can still find joy in the sweat of our brows and the intimacy that comes from shared strife.
I have always told myself I couldn't marry a man with soft hands or a man without a hammer. He couldn't possibly understand me.
You're never alone and you can ALWAYS do it.
I'll leave you with a well-worn quote from our beloved Beatles
"I get by with a little help from my friends."
Don't be afraid to call.
Slainte
BRM
Exhaustion
Heartbreak
Weariness
As I grew up, perhaps one of the biggest lessons that I still carry with me is how to persevere. You see, when you have 100 bales of hay to unload from the truck to the hay loft and rain is impending and you're only 30 bales in, you've only one way to go: forward. In my life, stopping, resting, and giving up weren't options. There is this moment where everything feels like it's falling down around you, your muscles ache and your eyes seems to move in slow motion over everything in front of you. You think "I can't possibly finish this, there is no way my body or heart can take more." But, you do. You take that next crucial step that carries you, like a automaton into the next task, the next bale, the next day without someone you thought you couldn't live without.
The problem is, life has to carry on, no matter how horrible your present circumstances may be and you can't just let everything and everyone else slip through the cracks due to your suffering. That's not how it works.
I can remember a night in the freezing cold, new baby lambs and goats on their way, where my mother and I desperately constructed three small stalls out of the larger old cow stalls in our barn so that the ewes and lambs would have peace in their early days. We cursed and laughed and cried while our numbs fingers fumbled for nails and hammer strokes missed the mark over and over. We lugged massive straw bales to fill the stalls with warmth. Several times as our backs ached and as we comically and painfully rolled and righted a 7 foot round bale into the barn so the animals would have fodder through the next few weeks, we wanted to give up. We were starving and thirsty and freezing, but our duty was to the new lives coming, the flock, and even to each other.
We couldn't stop.
Again, years later I found myself falling rapidly ill while I still had two fields of horses to feed, turn out and throw hay to, and I felt like there was no way I could possibly walk another step. What then? The poor horses are left to an empty stall without food, water or hay? No no. I walked on.
These memories are among hundreds others like it, memories without any pleasantry or heroic soldiering, memories with bitterness and trudging through chores cursing every animal and weed in my path. And there are others even sweeter, memories of hot sweaty days, skin tanning, lemon honey water in condensing jars while myself and dear companions weeded and staggered in the heat, singing songs and telling stories, distracting ourselves from how many more rows there were left untended.
Oh and the bittersweet heart trials. The drudgery and fear and paralyzation of thinking you couldn't endure more pain or recover from such a heartbreak. From such betrayal. Yet, you did. You wept, slept fitfully, drank too much, worked overtime, went to the gym, ate too much and did whatever it took to pull yourself away from him...or her...
But look at us now! Recovered, maybe relapsed and on the upswing, or maybe back down in the pits feeling hopeless yet again, feeling the need for a hand, an arm, a new pair of eyes, a new world view. All is possible here, on this earth, with these bodies and these hearts. We can pull through.
We have to.
We can't stop ticking. The clock doesn't stop just because we feel weak. Your partner won't stop needing you just because your world is rocked. Your children won't stop needing food because you are too tired. It is overwhelming and terrifying to be alive. To feel so much and to feel so flawed.
Yet, would you rather live a languid life without any struggle to show you the sweetness of reprieve? Would you rather be laid out on your chaise lounge with the world passing you by without any feeling of true accomplishment? I know, speaking from experience in the hard working world, that while I am desperately tired and needy for a breath, I am thankful for the ethic I have been given and the choice I have not be given.
It's a hard life, but it's a beautiful life and we can still find joy in the sweat of our brows and the intimacy that comes from shared strife.
I have always told myself I couldn't marry a man with soft hands or a man without a hammer. He couldn't possibly understand me.
You're never alone and you can ALWAYS do it.
I'll leave you with a well-worn quote from our beloved Beatles
"I get by with a little help from my friends."
Don't be afraid to call.
Slainte
BRM
Absolutely beautiful writing. Beautiful, raw, and true.
ReplyDeleteI miss Hearthside. The writing reveals the authenticity of the lives there--the responsibility and pleasure in relationships with each other and the animals. A wonderfully intimate perspective on the thorns and roses we meet along the way.
ReplyDelete