Apifera Farm - where art, story, animals & woman merge. Home to artist Katherine Dunn

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©Katherine Dunn.

Saturday, January 02, 2016

I finally crack, and Maine speaks

I come from a long line of scientists and engineers - people who base their opinions and beliefs more on fact versus feeling. My father, an architect, used to tell me "You are such an optimist, that is something good." I guess we all see what we need to see in 'signs', for lack of a better word.

But over the past years I rely less on 'signs'. I just think of many of my encounters as conversations in a language that might not be human. Just as we must converse in a new language with our beloved family members when they die, I believe we must be open to learning new languages when we are going about our daily lives.

I found this piece of wood when I was bringing in fire wood. Maine spoke to me loud and clear,

"Hello, fear not, you will arrive here when you do."

Adventures don't always have a clear starting date or end time. I am living that each day-the unknown of when. And it is easy because I know we are going to Maine and I know that is our path. There is no fear when you know you are on the path. I don't know the exact route, turn offs, valleys and peaks, because that would ruin the best part of the journey- the adventure.

There is a reason it can't happen all in one day -  I have things to learn before we go.

I have been in a great deal of agony and physical pain since Tuesday morning when I thought I had once again come down with sciatic issues. I've had those before and have learned how to cope with them, and how to use my body in more caring ways to prevent future issues. But this time, it was different, I could not get up and walk the pain was so great and I screamed in pain at certain movements, even having to crawl on the floor to get to the bathroom. It takes me about an hour to work through it and then I can walk. I finally got to urgent care and it is a lumbra acral sprain. Worst thing I've gone through physically in my entire life. What will help? Time. It stinks. Not a great way to end 2015 or start my year, but I also think it is a fitting ending. It is a culminating lesson here, the lesson I have referred to before of needing to alter the amount of physical labor I bring on myself because of the quantity of animals I have. And the emotional drain of this work is coming to a head. I am not a weak person, but I have many times had thoughts that things needed to change, or I would crack. I think this entire month I was pre-cracking, and this week, I really cracked, leaving me to talk tot he sky a lot,

"Look, Universal powers, I get it, okay. Sprained ankle, flu, back sprain, enough. I'm making changes, I've told you that, I mean what I say, so knock it off. I'm on board."

I am wide open hearted right now, knowing Maine is open for me, and the new setting will help me tweak what I need to tweak-to help my body, and to help my art and writing career-and still help animals, but the latter will be in a different way.

I fed Boone yesterday and found a stray hay twine sending me a loud message of love. Or perhaps Boone took the time to arrange the twine with his big old feet. Either way, I needed it. It's been a hard weak of illness and pain. Pain is no fun. Pain is hard to work through and is exhausting.

When you see a love note on the ground at your horse's feet, you  accept it with gratitude.