Thinking About Thngs Again

So, I got an epiphany a while ago. The Lord doesn't want me to be miserable. He really does want me to be happy. When I said that to Him, it seemed like He replied, "You finally got it! Yes! I'm not your enemy. I want you to have enough food to eat, clothes to wear, a place to live. I want you to be genuinely happy, not pretend to be happy while you are miserable and wish you were dead."

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I read a couple of posts lately, about Zion. They made me think. They were sobering to me. One was here. The other was here.

Right before or after I read that second link, I watched a movie called, "The Truman Show." It was like getting hit with a sledgehammer. The post and the movie sort of merged in my soul (that's why I don't remember which I was exposed to first). I watched the movie again today.

There's a line in the movie that the creator of The Truman Show says to a detractor (one who wants Truman to be able to live a real life). I can't quote it verbatim, but in essence, he says, "He can get out if he wants. If he wants it badly enough [to do anything to get out], he can leave. But he doesn't want to get out. He likes his cage."

As I watched the show, watched someone putting into Truman's head that he was in a "cage," watched Truman slowly waking up to the fact that some things didn't add up, then watched him fight, willing to sacrifice all, not even withholding his life, so that he could find a truth he didn't even understand - as I watched that, something pushed inside of me. It pushed me to crave getting out of my own illusions, to be willing to sacrifice anything and everything to find the Lord, to allow Him to work with me that I might be what, who, and where He wants me to be.

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The first time I was rebaptized (before the general call to be baptized by "authority" instead of by "commission"), I was baptized in a river and three white wild horses grazed across the river the whole time. A call to courage, I think.

Fear. Worry. One or the other has been my constant companion since I was a preschooler. I am in the process of letting go of that. A couple of years ago, God began helping me with that in earnest. He is still working on it, and I am as willing a student as I know how to be. He's working on me trusting Him.

I fear my own sins. I fear my own failure. The other fears are fading into the background, even disappearing. I read the posts about how serious it is, what we are doing, what we are attempting. Can I do this? Can I sacrifice ALL that the Lord requires? How much have I already sacrificed? How much more is required? I feel so inadequate. I worry that I will come up against something I can't do, can't handle. I worry that because I've had more than enough hellish experiences in my life, things that I could barely survive. I pray God to lift me up and make it so that I don't notice how bad it really is. I've prayed that before. He has answered, done as I requested. There have been some times when I have been surprised, when I would look at my life objectively and see what I was going through and how much it did not hurt or scare me.

I pray God that darkness has no power over me, to drag me down, to cause me to fail. I am alive for a reason. I am alive because of what God wants me to do. He would not have sent His angels to show me the two paths I could choose if He knew I could not accomplish the one that required me to stay alive (as we call it). I must believe that the Lord can do this. I must believe that He has already atoned for my sins (and is only waiting for me to accept that). I must believe that He can create in me a new mind and a new heart. I must believe that I cannot understand all that the Lord comprehends. I must believe that trusting Him will cause me to break out of the illusions I live in.

I crave breaking out of this hell I was born into. I crave breaking into the reality, into the Light. But I cannot do it alone. I don't have the knowledge. I don't have the understanding. I still labor under too much fear and ineptitude.

God help me. God help us all.

Pullet Eggs

Everything I've read (by people who are supposed to know via experience) said that if hens turn five months old after the longest day of the year, they won't lay eggs until the following spring. Well, guess what? Today is September 28, three months after the longest day – and, this morning, when I went out to feed the chickens there was a pullet egg. I guess it pays to have hens who can't read.

The hens are just five months old now.

I wonder, though. It seems as if the people who write about such things usually live in places like Vermont. I live in southern Arizona. I'm sure it's a lot colder in Vermont right now, than here. We still hit 90*F, sometimes higher, sometimes lower. Perhaps it has more to do with temperature than with length of days.

I'm not complaining, I promise.

This morning, I also saw a coyote. Yellow hair, long tail. It looked just like the one I saw at Clay's house in Cane Beds. At the time, he was living on Liberty Lane, away from any other house. It was the first time I'd seen a coyote that was yellow. Today was the second. Don't think bright yellow, like a daffodil or dandelion. Think muted yellow, like a dog.

Technically, I live out of town. Really, I live in a neighborhood, house after house all the way into the town limits. Okay, there is a cotton field just north of us, then houses, the high school, like that – but if you drive, it looks like town. The lots are way too small for country lots.


The coyote was walking down the street that goes past our backyard. It's actually a driveway that starts at our northeast corner, and goes from the front of our house to the houses behind us. It walked down the drive, then cut off into one of the yards.

Often, as I type or read in my room, I can see the parade of animals in the evening. A rabbit or two. Several quail. They just walk down the road, like a family on an evening stroll – or run. The youngsters run. Lizards. Pigeons. Other birds. (I saw a robin in my front yard a few days ago.)

Apparently we have septic tanks out here, but we buy water from the town on the east (it calls itself a city; actually, I think our town also calls itself a city – no one wants to be just a town anymore). We buy natural gas and electricity from the town after the town on the west.

If I had my druthers, I'd live on at least five acres (twenty or fifty would be better), off the grid. My electricity would come from sun and wind, and maybe something else (don't know what that would be, though – definitely not a generator; I like quiet). I would probably use propane for heating water, and for cooking until I got used to using a sun oven, eating mostly raw, using a wood stove in winter. I would use wood for heat most of the time. If I lived in Cane Beds, I would have propane to keep the house at least 60*F. If I lived here, I'd just have a well-insulated house with windows on the south, and no trees at all on the south. That, and a wood stove, would work fine.

People around here usually avoid putting windows on the south, and they load the south with trees. To keep the heat out. If they paid attention to the sun and the shade, they'd see that all they need is a three foot overhang shading their windows. At least, I think that's what Mom and I measured. It has been a long time.

You don't want the sun in (unless it's unseasonably cold) from about April until September or October. In Cane Beds, I'd say from June first until the first of September.

But, even around here, you want the sun to shine in your south windows in the winter. It cuts down on the heating bill. It gets to about 27*F for the lows in winter. Heat is needed at night, and on cloudy days. If the house is built right, it won't need much heat besides that.

The trees need to be on the east, west, and north. Deciduous trees are best. Around here, some lose their leaves by December, and some keep dead leaves on the tree until new growth pushes them off in February or March.

Life and Things

It's just after 11 a.m. AZ time, and it's only 69*F. A week ago, at this time, it was usually 104*F. That's the thing about this area. There isn't much in-between. Next week, it could be in the hundreds again.

This morning, I went into the chicken pen and gave the chickens some food, then I took their water bottle out to re-fill it. When I came back with the water, the rooster attacked me. Well, as much as a chicken can. He pecked me near the ankle, twice.

I don't know if he was mad (angry) at me because I stopped letting them out, or if he's old enough now to be aggressive. In any case, I decided he'd be better off in a stew pot or a frying pan. We could use the food, anyway. Fresh ground homemade bread is great, and I like beans, but a little meat added would be good.

I was letting the chickens out in the hopes they would keep the weed growth down. I didn't notice much change in the weeds, but I did notice a change on our front porch. It's a huge porch. I'd guess it's about ten feet by thirty, covered with a severely leaky roof. Our washing machine is there. I was having to wend my way through chicken poop. It washed off with the hose, but the chicken coop isn't tiny, especially for only four chickens - so, finally, back they went - 24/7. So, perhaps, Mister Macho didn't like it.

I was supposed to have four hens and zero roosters. Still, I understand that deciding the sex of a newly hatched chicken isn't too easy. I wanted eggs that were not fertilized. That way, I'd know I wasn't eating a baby. I adapted, when the rooster turned out to be a he instead of a she. I visualized babies running around next year. Now, I've reverted to my original plan.

What Motivates You?

I have been reading The Artist's Way, again. It was written by Julia Cameron. My copy is marked up and the corners of the pages are getting ratty. Whenever I see a copy, I get it. I gave one to my daughter, and I gave one to a good friend of mine. I think I may still have one. I also have read every book by Barbara Sher that I can get hold of.

Barbara Sher asks, “What motivates you?” She wants it written on a card. So, reading her book yet again, I did so. In reading through my motivators often, I was struck with one thing on that list of what motivates me.

The biggest motivator I have is the freedom to do as I please. I suppose that sounds horrible. I was trained by society that it was horrible. We are supposed to please society, you know, and some things just aren't done, like doing work your soul craves. We are supposed to make money, do things that are financially acceptable. We are supposed to work for someone else. We are not supposed to have fun working.

I suppose that is why I am, only now, waking up to my biggest motivator. If I know that I can do anything, that nothing holds me back, then I “go for it”. If I have the freedom to really do anything I please, then one of the things I please to do is write.

I thought I had given up writing. Gone past it. Until I decided to get serious about this blog. Then I discovered that writing is still in my blood. It's in my bones. It's in my flesh, and in my spirit. That's why I'm sharing my stories without charge in my other blogs (linked to this one). Stories were meant to be shared, not to hide in a hole with a cover slid over the top.

Other things I would do if I had the freedom to do anything:

I would learn at least seven languages fluently. Right now, I dabble in languages. Dabble is the key word. I would love to become fluent.

I know French best, but fear I have forgotten much of what I once learned. My next best foreign language is Spanish, and I know for a fact that I have forgotten nearly everything I learned, which wasn't much anyway. (I used to pronounce it so well when I read it, though, that Spanish-speakers could hardly believe that I really didn't know what they were talking about.) I have dabbled in Chinese (I only hear the tones once in a while), Irish Gaelic, Sign Language and Swedish. Less so, in Russian, Italian, and Japanese. Some dialects of England's English is like a foreign language, but then so is Southern American at times, and I'm sure my Western American is confusing to them as well.

When I was somewhere around ten years old, a friend of my sister's who was blind (Dave Murray) gave me a braille writer and stylus. At least, I think that's where I got it from. I learned a tiny bit, but had lost the braille writer and stylus by the time I went to college. I would love to add that to my languages.

The trouble is, I don't feel that “freedom to do anything and everything” when it comes to studying languages. It's like eating ice cream and watching television all day. It isn't real work, because it doesn't bring in money. (It is real work, in that it is difficult – but it is a fun difficult.) It is only acceptable to do if I am paying someone thousands upon thousands of dollars to teach me (like a university), even though it wouldn't be nearly as fun as doing it on my own. I know, logically, that this particular attitude makes no sense, but I'm not sure how to overcome it.

Another thing I would do is draw all day. I would write all day. I would draw all day. I would learn languages all day (especially if I had someone who knew them, who would speak them with me). I would sing. I would dance (even though my body is pretty slow when it comes to learning anything like dance steps). That's more than 24 hours worth of doing in 24 hours.

So, what is your desire? What would you do all day if you could? What motivates you? What feels like play to you, even if it is difficult for you to do?