A State of Mind
The wind still blows, the sea is near–I can feel it on my skin, I smell it.
I can see the cove from my garden.
I had two stable, loving parents that gave me security and an education–not everyone has that.
I am still healthy. Not everyone has that.
I am graced by an imagination that allows me to paint and draw and write.
I have puppets. I am not afraid of puppets, but some people are.
I am not afraid to walk down a street. Not everyone can say that.
My skin has not been a disadvantage. Not everyone can say that.
I get to live with animals and help them and they return the favor by percolating my art and stories.
I'm not rich, but I have a house and firewood, and a best friend in my husband. He makes me laugh, a lot.
I can walk, and move, and lift, and see.
My arms are still strong even though less firm. My hands have age spots but they lift animals and paint and touch.
I am not in a wheelchair. I can get up from a chair. I have a chair, several.
I smell food cooking. I have food.
I am not afraid of old people. This makes my life richer. Not everyone can say that.
I get to work with old people. This makes my life richer. Not everyone can say that.
I get to take my llama to visit old people. It makes our life richer. Not everyone can say that.
I have people I've never met that understand my intentions and support both my work and farm.
I've been my own boss for 26 years and self sustained.
I've bought many houses on my own. Not everyone can say that.
I have friends that lift me up.
I've learned boundaries. I recognize boundary impaired people much more quickly now.
I don't deal with people who specialize in disguises, especially the ones who constantly smile.
I'm self entertaining, a very handy skill I acquired as a child.
When someone makes a suggestion, I am much better at silently asking myself, "Who says?"
I miss my pugs. But I had pugs. Not everyone can say that.
I still have hope to have a pug again, in time. Not everyone can feel that.
I live within my means. I don't feel comfortable with people that don't.
I have donkeys, and horses, and ponies and llamas and pigs and chickens and dogs and cats. I have a bunny.
There are many goats who make me laugh.
I have well made barns and fences.
I have a turkey who is a companion.
My body got larger but it is still able to climb fences and ride horses.
My belly is flabby. Once I realized it was like my child belly, I began to feel empathy for it.
I am not my face. I am not my appearance.
For now, I'm still here. Not everyone can say that.
~Katherine Dunn/Apifera Farm~
