Moondog

 Dear Blog,

I have been pondering what to write for a while.

Words.

And yet, sometimes words need spaces to grow.

And I know that perhaps words will come.

I feel a really strange empty, childlike feeling.

Like I’m going backwards to a timeline of before….

When I was about ten.

When the world was not so solid.

Ten.

That was probably right before I felt like I had to grow up. Before my siblings got married and moved way. 

Real fast.

Before I had to be someone.

Ten…

To write like I was ten again. I would like to write words like I was planting wildflowers, and sprinkle them out, abundantly. And kiss them as I sent them out. And love the essence behind the words. The perfume of my own being. The heart that writes them.

I would write, and sing, and speak, and flow, in a way that was organic as the way the clouds express themselves in the sky.

To see words as merely paint.

And have fun with the paint.

And color outside the lines.

To write, like I was flying a kite, to flow, and swirl, and have fun.

To splash the words like an ink painting, letting it flow out and as it lands on the tile, and spreads out, like a tree.

To write a watercolor. The light of the page glows through it. And that’s the wonder of it. It’s fluid, and soft, and the light of the paper behind is what makes it magical.

We are all God’s canvas.

Yet we tend to overwork ourselves, trying to make ourselves into some solid piece of art, when we really are watercolor.

Butterflies of God’s mind.  Soft, transient, always changing, and growing, and flying. A gift.

Birthed from the heart.

Magic.

Meant for soft colors, and splashes of paint, that are soft, and beautiful, and the paint is merely a tool, to show off how beautiful the light of the paper is, and the colors too.

And we glow when things are soft, and fluid, and watery, and splashy. And hints of outlines of things are softly painted in. To let the mind wonder, and wander, and explore, and feel the beauty of how soft, and beautiful the master artist truly is. And how we are very much reflections of God’s handywork when we are fluid, and soft, and allowing, and translucent.

And so, today this is my little splash. A bit of watercolor here.

A glow there.

Little sprigs of green popping up through the warm earth, bulbs opening in the sunlight. Soft dandelion tufts opening, spreading out their soft fingers.

Here in this space.

I write a watercolor.

A few weeks ago, I ordered this bell, chime. I think they are called cochi bells, this one is a cheaper version from china. And it finally came in the mail this week. It was worth the wait. I love it. It sounds amazing, I’ve been carrying it with me just because I find it so soothing. I have a draw string light in my room, so I tied it to the light, so I can tap it with my foot when I want to hear it chime on my bed.

It feels very much like a soft thing, a soft watercolor of sound.

I find it soothing as I’ve been recovering from weird flu sickness. I am very much on the mend, but I feel really tired. My ears keep getting plugged. 

My sister had gotten the same bug, then my throat got a bit scratchy  on Saturday, and then on Sunday was when I realized I wasn’t feeling so well.

Sunday night I felt exhausted. Oh.

And a headache…

 It was one of those ones…

Vomit.

Runny nose, and all that. It was very intense, and when you feel that misery of body. You just pray for some relief.  I’d taken so many baths… and just sat there with a hot rag on my nose. Then got out, only to want to get back into the tub again.

We just had our septic tank pumped.

And I had the thought, that I might fill it up in one night, because I took so many baths.

Today I feel on the mend some.

Though I still feel. tired. And I find resting very nice. 

One highlight this week was going to my garden, with all my pillows, and blankets and soaking up some sun. But the puppies found me, and that was just a big puppy pile. Until they realized I was staying there for keeps, so they having fur, did not like being in such a sunny patch. So they eventually moved.

Another highlight--- Bess and I cleaned kitchen. I even gathered all the dishes accumulating in the kitchen, and put them all in a bin, so perhaps, I might go outside, and wash dishes in the sunshine, sometime. I do get tired of cleaning things, so doing them outside is a lot more fun, especially if it’s sunny. Bess was the one who had the idea one day. And I thought it was brilliant, so when the dishes get that deep, and the sun is shining. That is a pretty okay thing to do.

Now the worst of this cold is over, I’m grateful, and in a way. Being unwell has been kind of nice, because when you’re so sick, you just have to let things you normally do, go to seed.

                                                And you realize, that some stuff is nice if it’s done, but mostly, if you look at most tasks, like a child, they aren’t as important as we all think.    

                                Dishes can get moldy….

Toilets too.

And whatever is mulching around, like wash, and crumbs, and bits of past meals of the long yestermeals they are not as important as we all make them out to be.

                And if someone comes into the house…

                Maybe…you can just fade into the blankets or something.

                Ah…yes.

                Or just peer round, and hide under your sheets like a child would do.

                Make a nice hut, and live in it.

                It’s nice to just cocoon.

And it feels as if being ill was kind of spiritual in way. Like something has been cleared, or is being cleared.

And I feel like a child in many ways.

                                Vulnerable, raw, messy. And real.

                Maybe put on some mismatched clothes, and dance around.

                Something…

                To be as curious as a puppy.

Glad of our own unfolding.

                                                Yes.  

                                                Someone who comes to mind who embodies this was my brother’s friend growing up, Moroni. He was this most amazing soul. He was himself.

And so good at it.

He always was sharing whatever he had.

                                                I remember he did a painting of some ducks, and he was so proud of that painting. It wasn’t even that great. But he thought it was great.

                                                And so it was.

                                                I remember thinking that I wanted to be that happy with whatever I did. Just as proud, and beaming.

                                                He was always including us kids. He shared his gummy bears. He noticed if someone got left out. He loved it when my mom cooked for him, and even if it was oatmeal mush, he appreciated every bite.

                                                He’d wear whatever he felt like, even if it was funny, cow pants to school.

                                                He went to California on a whim, on his motorcycle, and slept on old mattresses he found near thrift stores, and used up all his money, and had a great adventure.

                                                He knew my brother Stanley, liked raisins so he made a cheesecake pie with raisins in it.

                                                As I was a kid, and mostly an observer of my brother’s adventures. I remember that Moroni was a soul who really loved himself.

                                                I remember the day he died, vividly, because my dad was teaching us a lesson for a family night, and then we got the phone call that he’d been out with his brother, helping him change to snow tires I think, on the side of the road, when a car didn’t see him, and he was hit, and left the world when he was only eighteen.

                                                It was very hard on everyone. On my brothers. And the family--the bee keepers, family. My neighbor that plays the piano for us.

 I write about him today, remembering him, because I’ve always wanted to be like him. Or at very least, emulate his inclusive child-like heart. To love myself like he did. I felt he appreciated life, and me, and said it when he liked things. It was very beautiful.

                                                And sometimes, when I get sick, it brings up feelings of being a kid again. And he comes to mind. Because he was apart of our growing up.

 I had colds a lot when I was kid, and so it makes me feel like that timeline---a little uncertain, and a little hopeful, and a little scared, and a little happy, and full of wonder, and many emotions.

                                 Moroni.

                                It’s funny because on the Mormon Temples---an angel Moroni sits.

                                And I do think out of all the people I’ve known that are no longer here, Moroni would make a good angel. And if I had one to be a guardian of those whom I loved, it would be him. Because I felt like he brought a spirit of love into our home, and we all missed him dearly when he left.

                                 I always like to keep him in my memory, because of the way he lived. It’s funny, you can know someone for only a short while, and it can leave impression that lasts a lifetime.

                                Never underestimate the power of sharing an ice cream, or a gummy bear with a kid, in a big family, where you sometimes get overlooked.

                                Kids remember. And it makes a huge impression.

                So…

The eclipse energy feels pretty intense. And beautiful, and it feels like the sun is brighter, and colors are more vivid.

I don’t know if you got to see the eclipse.

I didn’t.

 I did when we had the one last year, and it was amazing. I woke up early that day, as I was sleeping in my tent, and got up and got some eclipse glasses out, and then started making some lavender tea, then went outside, and started milking, goats---but they were all being naughty, and I had to chase them back from way out in the field, and by the time I got back, my pants were drenched in dew from traversing through the alfalfa field. And my sister, Sarah found me in the goat pen, and wanted to watch the eclipse with me, then my brother nate, and Mom and Bess all came out.

And while Bess and I milked goats, everybody watched it get darker. I remember getting especially cold, because I was wet, anyway. And my dad was having someone cut the hay, so the a tracker was swooshing about, cutting the alfalfa.

I took some awesome pictures of the eclipse shadows, with a strainer. I wished I had put my glasses in front of my camera, because then I would have gotten a full on picture of it. But I did take some beautiful pictures of the shadows. The funny thing was my memory card---eclipsed my pictures of the eclipse, and they vanished. But my brother recovered them for me. So maybe later, I'll add pictures of it.

 But this time around. I was indoors. I had a headache all Sunday night, and felt so sick. But I wanted to see the eclipse.

 I couldn’t remember where I had stashed the glasses. I had placed them somewhere for safe keeping.

I rummaged, and rummaged, but I couldn’t find them. And my head was hurting so bad, and my nose was so misery. But prior to the nighttime, I had decided to wash two puppies, because someone was coming on Monday to look at our puppy Oden, they had seen a picture of him, and sounded like they wanted him.

              I  peered out the window at my sister, and saw people had come and were now looking at the puppies.

 They had moondog out there. And I wasn’t too happy about that, Because moondog was my favorite. But I wasn’t super worried, because they had wanted Oden.

                                                So I went back to bed.

                                                Only to have Bess come back a little while later, saying they really wanted Moondog.

                                                My moondog.

                                                I didn’t want to give my dog away.

                                                I considered moondog mine. He listened to me. And loved me. And I felt connected to him.

                          Oh how I love that dog, and always will.

       I had been trying to teach him to fetch a ball. And he would always grab it, and go hide in the bushes and wait for me to get it from him. On Sunday, I tossed him the ball, and turned my back.

All of a sudden, he brought the ball back to me. Such joy!

        I so wanted a dog that fetched.  I tossed the ball again, and he kept returning the ball when I threw it!

          When he did that, I had decided, on Sunday, that if we couldn’t find them all homes, and ended up with some of them. I wanted to keep moondog. He was the best.

         And what a dog. Soft, and gentle, with big eyes, and he’d plop into my lap, or lean against me, and give me the most sweet dog kisses.

 And yet, someone wanted him.

And I had said they were God’s, dogs.

But did I really mean it?

Big pause.......

Did I? 

Another big pause.....

And the truth is, I like the idea of putting everything I love into one big pasture, and keeping them there.

   Safe.

 A horse, and Moondog, and all those things and people I find delightful, and loving. My favorites.

     And yet, as I held moondog, and he held me back, I had a hard time, because, I couldn’t justify keeping my best pal, if my sister didn’t keep her favorite either.

And I know, deep within me, that even though the objects of my love are so wonderful to keep around me, and it’s been such a gift to have these bundles of love here, especially this one. There’s a beauty, in knowing that love doesn’t diminish, even if the form is not there.

                And though I know this.

                Through, and through.

                It’s still hard. Because I love to love, and it’s nice to be loved back. And it’s fun to hold things close.

And like so many things that come and go in my life, my sister and I love dearly, but we also know, that loving is a soft thing. Not a clutching thing.  Or an owning. And anything that is truly yours always comes back. It's apart of you.

Nor does it devalue if given away.

And though I have wanted a dog to call my own, and had given up the idea. And I really started enjoying the thought of keeping a dog, one that loved me, and one that would come to me. And be mine.

I had many questions on my mind.

It was very difficult to let him go.

If I loved myself, would I let him go? I deserved a dog.

 Would it be fair to my puppy? 

But who is myself?

There were other puppies that I wanted them to take more. Yet they wanted mine.

I’d even bathed Oden.

And Bess said he was all dirt and dust, because he’d been digging hole. And moondog was slick, and beautiful.

She said that the people had come all the way from Salt lake because the man had lived here once, and they had found a lost sheepdog out in the desert, and had loved it so much, and kept it for ten years. And they wanted one like it.

 And so just before the sky went dark, I gave my dog away. I didn’t meet the couple, because I was feeling too sick to meet them, and I didn’t want to judge or decide If they were worthy of my friend whom I loved so dearly.

                                Bess Brought moondog to me, to give one last hug.

All I knew is that, moondog was special. And I hope that he is loved.

I also know that weather he stayed with me his whole life, or just these few months. I couldn’t love him anymore than I do now.

                Afterward, both Bess and I cried together. And I struggled with the decision. And it took me a while to sort my own motions out.

To forgive my own giving.

 Because sometimes… it hurts an awful lot.

And I’m grateful for God’s grace that helps clear my own eclipses. And keeps my heart always open, when it has a hard time seeing its way out of its own sorrow. Grateful for the presence, the spirit of God, that gives comfort, and knowing, warmth, and healing. 

Bess and I both knew that we have more than most. Most people don't know what it is like to feel love. 

So giving away a bit of what we have is our gift back to the source, and author of the love that has blessed us.

                But still it was hard. 

            And it's taken me a while to be able to write this.

The very nature of this world is transient.

Fluid. Beautiful.

And just as the moon, and sun align.

I felt like God was trying to adjust my vision as well. My seeing.

We are all one. 

Me. 

You. 

My sister. 

The world.

                                 One love.

                                One vision.

                                 One light.

I wasn’t giving anything away. Really. And I wasn’t going to loose anything. Love is right here.

                           Can you feel it? It holds you always.

                        It holds all of us. And gives itself away. Always.

                    So we are never lost. 

                   So we can all find our way back home. 

                    So we know where heaven is. 

                        No Moondogs ever leave. Really.

                          I have been given so much in my life.

I have been blessed. And loved.

Even in the hard bits. And especially in the hard bits.

I have so much love surrounding me all the time.

So much love inside.

So many people I can love. 

Beautiful souls that love me.

So many beautiful birds, and animals, I can love.

        And I’m grateful because no matter where I have been.  My sister and I have been protected, and surrounded, and loved our whole life.

So have you.

  Even when there were times when I couldn’t see it.

  Love has been here with me all the time.

 And with you too.

  And the beauty of giving love away, is that it always, always comes back, in some form.

It always returns.

It always lives.

It always grows.

And always I have been blessed.

It is God’s grace to be able to give. It has what has kept my heart alive and flowing all this time.

It is God’s grace to allow the flowing. And sometimes I know our eyes need a checkup, and our vision may need adjusting. Because sometimes we may have eclipses in our lives. And we may not be able to see the whole picture. But every piece of mirror can reflect light.

                                                And the more I see, the more I know deeply, even when it feels very difficult, that it is love that I am loving. And serving. And if I give love, it is only to myself whom I am giving it to.

To you.

                                                To the beloved.

                                                To myself.

                                                The self that is in many forms.

                                                I hope Moondog makes a sundog, a rainbow of protection around love, around us all.

                                                I hope the love I send out reaches you.

                                                And the many you’s out there that feel like one isolated island.

I hope that my little moondogs I send out in love, will reach all the lonely shores.

                                                So you know you’re not alone.

                                                That someone really cares.

                                                That someone sees you.

                                                And loves you.

                                                It is my hope that we all start sending our moondogs out.

                                                Giving away our love, so we call can remember that we really are one.

                                                And perhaps,

                                                One moondog at time.

                                                Wars will stop.

                                                And fighting will cease.

                                                And we’ll start seeing glimpses of our love, of ourselves in each other.

                                                That love will reach its source, and know itself.

                                                And love will love itself.

                                                So that the only thing that will be eclipsed when it gets dark is the illusion of our separateness.

                                                And we will see.

                                                How beautiful.

                                                Love really is.

                                                It is a beautiful story. 

                                        Worth writing.

                            This morning my sister had this song running through her head. It was a song we hula hoop danced to a lot. But hadn't listened to in a long while. 

                            Unwritten.

                    I feel this is very much.

                    A new chapter.

                A blank page all of us are being gifted with to fill it with love.

 P.S.....I' sending out a prayer request. As it feels like everything has got real intense. And lots of people are hurting. My sister, Sarah is in the emergency room, with a real bad infection of the eyes or something, and it looks real Bad. I Wasn't even going to post my original post after I found out. We are all worried. I'm heading up to the hospital with Bess, and asking for a prayer of healing.