goats

Récit Receipt

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(Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

It is as such a time of movement in narratives about what has happened/is happening/will happen that I find myself unable to linger over much at all.

My eyebrows are numb.

There have been hospital visits, cardinal pairings, airplane travel, pop-up blooms, critical medical decisions, fire dancers, piano plunking, architects, kids in mental health crisis, zip-front bras, zydeco, powers-of-attorney, a wandering kitty-cat, grotesque wound care, super spy new neighbor, pot, drum beats, rock skipping, and rose water infused mango lassi… plus the news of goings on and friends with COVID.

Y’all

I found “Random Acts of Kindness” cards I promised to use on 3.6.2020 and R. Buckminster Fuller 37cent stamps whilst cleaning up.

What even is happening everywhere? Is anyone else feeling the cognitive dissonance with horrors of humanity being marketed, virtue signal rated, with collective decision making based on the resulting populism rather than facts?

I’m just – we are all just – I mean, please be gentle and give yourself grace and space. I will attempt the same here (with my mask on in shared enclosed public spaces, thank you and you’re welcome).

Also, my front door is broken (have I mentioned?) and a new one will be here at the end of NEXT MONTH and it is costing $$$$ wth. It will be Forsythia colored with black surround though, so, yay me, while other’s homes are being obliterated.

During lunch today, I sat directly in the enveloping warm sunshine, ate my sweet kelly green spinach (natch), closed my eyes and listened to the sounds. I heard at least five different bird sounds accompanied by the woodpecker banging on about the benefits of bugs-in-tree bark. My first thought was how many of these sounds are universally peeking through all of the human horrors being inflicted around the world.

I sometimes wonder if forcibly crashing up against the prickled rebar surrounded concrete multitudes of grief and loneliness provides us insights into the infinitely joyously peaceful depths of love and presence that we would have otherwise never even noticed. Does it? I would like to be so present that I feel worthy of being present at all, in order to help SonHerisme feel worthy and loved for the always and forever to pass on to his circle of life people. How does this happen? Intention? Prayer Prostration? Ingestion? Magic?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Update on the Goat King’s domain: The pigs and turkeys have joined forces with the sheep, while the goats have been separated, I assume for breeding (?). The chickens have abandoned the entire goat-dom (I assume for greener pastures where they roam freely in large open spaces with all of the food/water and friendship they could ever want – grant me this moment of peace until I am able to acknowledge that they are either in someone’s soup or pet food product).

yeah – best be getting my gratitude meditations on and handing out my kindness cards with a piece of candy or $ to bring positive balance back to my day and maybe roll over to yours as well 🙂 Keep on rolling little tootsie rolls

Pig Coup! Pig Coup!

/ herismeorg / 2 Comments
(Photo by Leah Kelley on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

Pig coup, pig coup! Bless you!

I suppose this could be the introduction for any number of things at the moment… but it isn’t unless you want to metaphor up, which you are most welcome to do.

This is an introduction to an actual pig coup. As in the excommunicated pigs appear to be rallying and setting the stage to embark on a coup for penultimate reign over the farmette down the hillside. Yes, the farmette currently being governed by the very Goat King I’ve spoken about before. The pigs’ sudden boldness comes in part due to a complete upset in rank expectations as it turns out that the Goat King is the Goat Queen (now nursing two tiny hippity hoppity blonde prince and princess goats).

Don’t worry. This is not about to be a “back-in-the-day” share because 1. it is taking place right now and 2. I am my own self, not a former caterpillar, infamous Central American wrestler, or wandering meteor pretending to be a star.

Almost at the bottom of our mountain (which is truly just a very large hill but people insist on calling it a mountain), before the two creeks merge (working together making the journey quicker and more fun to the mighty river, out to the bay and eventually the vast endless ocean), there is a fork in the road. I always know what direction I am going to take at that fork in the road. More importantly, at this fork is a lane which leads back up a smaller hill upon which sits a white two-story farmhouse complete with wrap-around porch and green shutters in the middle of rolling fields making a farmette. A large white barn sits offset from the front of the house and close to the lane, tucked into the side of the hill. If you’re at the top of lane near the house, you can walk into the top of the barn where farming work things are stored. If you’re near the middle of the lane, you can walk into the lower part of the barn housing the seat and court of the Goat King (now Queen). At night there are twinkle sparkle lights all through the barn, just in case there is a spontaneous celebration or other entertainment at court.

The farmette has a few paddocks over the hills, food and water storage distribution huts, and shade areas scattered about. The farmette owner drives a tractor with an American Flag hoisted up on a flag pole behind his seat. It waves this way and that way as he drives around doing the things farmette owners do. Each time we pass the farmette, which is to say everytime we leave our house to go anywhere else other than the woods surrounding us, we have tipped our head in deference to and greeted the Goat King(now Queen), his court, and flock(s). Let’s move forward acknowledging officially the Goat King as Queen. Or maybe she can still be King as a lady goat? Yes, let’s do that then. We greet the Goat King first – respect – then the goat court, and finally the flock(s). The flock are mostly egg laying these days, but the meat flocks (chickens and turkeys) rotate in and out, so to speak.

Almost a month ago now, a new group entered the goat court area, keeping to their own quarters, natch. An entirely new pig court. Sweet little spotty squirmy pokey nosed piggies. We were worried a bit one of the hot days because all of the pink pigs took over their pig court shaded area, leaving the little black pigs out in the sun. It seemed to have been quickly sorted out, as the next time we passed, all of the pigs were snuggled together to fit the entire group into the shade.

I’m not privy to exactly what happened to cause the rift, but it happened just after the Goat King revealed her ladyness by birthing kids so I believe it had something to do with that. One day the pig court was fully integrated and supportive of the Goat King and goat court. The next day the pig court was removed to an entirely new spot on the farmette, two fenced paddocks away. The pig court was excommunicated from the Goat King’s presence.

When we pass by now we see signs of insurrection and an impending pig coup by the manner in which the pigs line up and stare back over the hill at the Goat King’s exclusive domain. Trouble is brewing at the farmette. I hope that the owner is prepared to foster a delicate diplomacy or accept a Pig King in the very near future.

This is my story and I’m sticking to it (as told to little sister friend who, once again, graciously receives it full of interesting questions and an appeal for me to ask the owner for an audience with the Goat King to see if I can help smooth things over).

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

a pivot from yesterday where I also only logged about 4800 steps according to my iphone. blerg. Best foot forward today (or… f the iphone calibration)

today in my brain is another day of challenges with mucking in the mire – I wish there was predictable relief. Maybe driving past the Goat King and excommunicated pig court later will help

pssssst hello Peter(imposed moniker of anyone from the UK reading this)!