Goat farm visit…
It’s as though I leave thoughts on the pillow. I woke to the sound of Neil Young’s Harvest Moon running through my mind. Thoughts of yesterday, thoughts of myself, the world, today…
Two hours later after a slow rising process, I arrived at my desk – the cool morning air in the open window, windchimes calling out the occasional breeze. The quiet din of traffic from the freeway beyond, and stillness.
Those thoughts of the morning, faded like the white fog in the valley to which I awoke. Now, clear blue sky with just a hint of mist remaining. Thoughts the same, the sound of Caitlin somewhere through the house and garage on the phone with her grandmother, the hard disk spinning quietly on the desk, and otherwise the empty space within which these sounds arise.
Dinner last night was potato tacos from the corner shop in Descanso, enjoyed in the overgrown field that was once a wildflower garden. Cassandra and I, Caroline, and her son Elijah, with the sun just dropped behind the trees sitting at a picnic table next to the goat pen, orange and blue flowers all around in the tall grass, and the baby goats practicing their parkour skills off of the walls of the shed and one another, ate peacefully with lighthearted conversation as the warmth of the day began to fall away.
My first visit to Elder Farm was an exquisite and peaceful long slow walk from the car, through the meadows, past the goat pen to the gardens, sacred kitchen, and back. 12 goats, two cats, one VERY small dog, and friends new and old for companions bore witness to a peaceful and still afternoon in the sun’s warmth and still green landscape, fresh from recent weeks rains and filled with the life of early summer.
It’s been a long time since I was just sitting peacefully in the wilderness which was a bit how this felt. A vast quiet, no sounds of traffic, more rocks and trees and birds than infrastructure. Elijah is 16, bright and interesting, friendly and interested. Caroline even has a perceptibly distinct quality to her character, at home on that land she displays an air of ease and relaxation, familiar to the person I have met when she comes to care for me, but much deeper.
Driving home, down the mountain just at sunset, Cassandra and I were treated to that recurring jewel of the San Diego summer ocean skyline filled with evening clouds brightly illuminated with the golds and pinks of day’s brilliant end.
It was a perfect end to an otherwise contentious day. For some reason, likely digestive, I spent most the day plagued by recurring overwhelm of autonomic dysreflexia and discomfort. On days like that, fortunately somewhat rare, I lose most of my ability to function as the physical distress overwhelms cognitive clarity and the physical ability to focus in stillness.
As 4 PM arrived, our planned time for departure to the farm, I was liberated from any sense that taking such a vacation would prevent me from getting any important work done. As the distress had cut through the focus of the day, the serene nature itself cut through the distress tests.
The night ended well and I dropped quickly from the light of the full moon to the dark of full sleep.
I start the day today, almost 2 hours behind my calendar. Two days a week right now care arrives an hour later in the morning, I have yet to adapt that to a “productive” flow. I’ve yet to decide whether it is myself or the calendar that will be more beneficially adapted.
I will attend the webinar this afternoon “How Structure Complements Intuition in Business” where I may find some insights for the question.
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…