I so loved this photo that one of my recent workshop students took at the end of our day. It captures a moment with me and Birdie, but also captures an entire life of caring. I know I'm not a perfect shepherdess , or wife, or person. But the way my hand is cupped on her neck, band-aid and all, the look on her face, knowing that when that photo was shot she was murmuring to me, feels me up with pride.
Who is caring for whom, here? We have a mutual relationship of extending and revolving energy, the animals and I–the farm and I too-. That energy moves about me as I work inside or out, it bounces off my energy and reads it so well when I walk amongst them. The beauty of my work here is I don't have to be perfect for them. Only people can demand perfection, or perhaps more to the point, only we ourselves feel failed when we don't live up to perceived perfection.
My biggest in born flaw is most likely my redhead temper. It has settled in my middle aged and on, but it is there. It's usually brought out by a heat wave, or exhaustion, and then I might kick a bucket or two. They stand amongst me and just accept it, not judging. Bucket kicking is always followed by quiet moments with one or two of them, holding them-or letting them soak into me for my own hug from them. I walk away hoping to do better next time. But they don't expect that, or anything from me-except consistency, leadership and safety.
So this photo captures my real essence, it's okay, my soul is saying about all those buckets I might have kicked in heat waves, your essence here is what wraps around this farm, not your temper.
Thank you Lisa Hoffman for sharing this photo with me.
