Loads of spiritual allies

My friend Willow's spending the winter in a small cabin in a muddy field in the Ozarks. She'd like to write a book, and I'd like her to write a book. She needs a desk or a table, and doesn't have one yet, and I sincerely hope that doesn't prevent her from writing her book. Of course, I've got a desk and a table, and I'm not writing a book, so I don't have a leg to stand on, really.

I'm very much hoping that she'll write a book, or something, about how to make a ritual that works, one that counts, that gives the opportunity to each participant to feel empowered. She does this, when she leads rituals, and I've been trying to learn it from her, and I just know it'd be easier if she wrote it all down and I could read it. Easier for me, that is. And maybe easier for her, because then she wouldn't have to suffer fools like me botching up perfectly good rituals. Ok, the opportunity for botching would still be there, but then she could point to the book and say, "do your homework, witch."

I've got something of a reputation here on the farm as some kind of ritual leader, because I go to Spiral Heart's witchcamp every summer, and am something of a ritual addict. I just love standing in a circle, I think that's it. We can all see everyone, and we all have something to contribute and something to discover about ourselves. I really like Reclaiming rituals because of that... audience participation, for lack of a better word. I'm not really into esoteric secrets -- I think I'm too much of a populist for that. I've found that the wisdom of the group, when the group is connected and grounded, is truly greater than any high priest or priestess. I feel like it's the priestess's job to make sure the group is connected and grounded, and beyond that, well, maybe a nudge or two to "go that way," and keep the group on track. As far as the mumble mumble mumble performance, well, that's not so interesting to me. I don't want to be a spectator in a ritual, and my favorite rituals are when there are no spectators. I like it when we're all in the soup together. Being grounded, of course, first.

Anyway, I'm hoping Willow will come up with some words that tell us how to do this, because the default is, watch the priestess. Probably leftover habit from school and church. Blech, I say. Opportunity for mind to take a vacation and go someplace else, out to the woods and fields where there are no spectators, only participants in the great life dance of the world. Spirits and allies of all kinds are just waiting, future dance partners, one after another, why sit still and watch?
okey dokey artichokey,
much love,
Kelpie

Sleep, and cows

Sleep, sleep, sleep. I love to sleep, and finally, it seems, I am getting enough. It's amazing, my body actually stops hurting when I get enough sleep. I actually am in a better mood when I get enough sleep. In my family, sleep is god. We don't wake up sleeping people unless it's necessary. Sleep and food, those two things are god.

So, my low-drama lifestyle has left me devoid of topics today. I'm sure there's controversy somewhere that I'm ignoring, but I'm not going to go looking for it. Not today. Today's just a good day to relax and enjoy. The only suspense I'm carrying is wondering when Beru and Clover will calve, which should be any day now. I went and checked on them last night (and the two nights before) to see how they were, and they were lying down, very pregnant, and very content, in the winter lot. As I walked up to Beru, she gave a long drawn out quiet (for a cow) groan, which, from a cow, means, "hey, what are you doing out here, I really hope you're not going to make me get up," in a friendly sort of way. I didn't make her get up.

Katy, our heifer who just calved, is healthy, and her calf is as cute as a button. Smaller than a big dog, she weighs about 60 pounds, and is a Dutch Belted, which are smaller than Holsteins, which is what we're more used to. Our herd is slowly becoming more Dutch Belted, because we like smaller cows. They're easier on the pasture and on the pocketbook, and are hardier. You can tell during fly season -- the Dutch Belteds don't have flies living on their milk veins they way Holsteins do. Boy, I really dislike flies.

Katy's still not used to being milked, and kicks when she's annoyed with us cleaning her teats, or if the milking machinery is uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to be doing it with the idea of kicking us -- it's more like an irritated swipe than a kick. Still, it doesn't work for milking, so we have to tie a belly rope around her, just above the udder, to keep her tendons from being as useful for kicking. Some folks have been hobbling her back legs together as well, but I've not done that. I guess I could, if she gets worse. Usually heifers get used to the whole rigamarole, and learn not to kick. Katy's still as sweet tempered as always, and acts more like a pet cow than the others. She's a Dutch Belted herself, and cute as a button, also.
okey dokey,
much love,
Kelpie

Wintertime blues

Wintertime at Twin Oaks can be dark and cold. We live outside a great deal of the time, and some of our buildings are drafty. I feel fortunate to live in a warm building with plenty of hot water and a kitchen, but this is not true for the courtyard buildings, especially. The community clothes area works hard to provide warm bedding and clothing for all of us, but the budget's not big enough to provide new things for everyone, and how would you do that, with turnover, anyway? Somehow, everyone manages to keep warm anyway. And there's plenty of food, even in the wintertime, thanks to all the work done in August to put away food, and the hard work that goes into slaughtering and butchering a steer. I enjoy a simple lifestyle, but in the winter, it's more of a challenge.

The commune empties out for Christmas, and then there's the return and more. Soon we'll have many many guests, as the curious and the loved come for New Year's. Keenan and I are responsible for making sure all these people have a place to sleep, as the "Room Assigners," and I hope that we've done an adequate job finding spaces and communicating with hosts. I hope there'll not be any collisions. We don't have any more rooms. We're full to bursting.

I like people, but I must admit to some trepidation. Well-meaning crowds are still crowds, and I get overwhelmed. Fortunately I have my own room, as all Oakers do, and I can escape there. In the winter, when we're all together, I especially grateful for my own room.

I'm glad that Spring's coming, in a few months, and that the winter is generally full of goodwill and love. I can tell that Oakers make a special effort to bring joy to the farm during this time. Last night, for instance, we had a gathering of about 30 in TCLR, with a fire and cookies and eggnog, and we read Dylan Thomas's "A Child's Christmas in Wales." A cosy good time was had by all.
Okey dokey artichokey, much love and light and warmth!
Kelpie

Merry merry at Twin Oaks

Keenan is one of the local incarnations of Santa Claus, and put together a blueberry pancake breakfast at Beechside this morning. There were about 20 people there, eating and making merry, and Rusty brought a ham! The table definitely was groaning: crunchy crust bread, apples, bacon and sausage, three kinds of homemade jam, coffee and two kinds of juice. And Grits! It was a good morning, and afterwards, Keenan and I had to walk around the block to work off some of the calories. Later on, we'll eat some goose that Woody's fixing, up at ZK.

The boys are happily hanging out in Arlo's room, playing new video games. Arlo and Rowan are pretty happy with Santa, too.

Rowan's following in his father's footsteps: he dipped into his allowance and bought a ramen noodles for each Oaker, and put them in everyone's mailboxes, with a tag taped to each saying, "From Rowan." We're pretty proud of him.

Okey dokey, the young lad's wanting the computer, so I must get off,
much love,
Kelpie

Homegrown talent

I'm having a good time listening to mp3's of Twin Oakers at a concert a month ago. Wow, there's a lot of talent here, and Ezra put some of it on the network, so we can listen at leisure. I especially like a trio that's sprung up, with Ez on bass, Keith on drums, and Claire on keyboard. I look forward to hearing more from them. And Edmund playing... what's that horn called? It's curly and maybe is a sousaphone.

Yesterday I was in such a funk, I forgot about listening to Oakers in the Bijou performing Christmas music. I had to sit in my room with a candle and some incense, examining my thoughts, giving my hurts some attention. I was sad because my friend Willow's gone to Missouri for four months and I won't see her until April. And I had planned on going to Waynesboro yesterday also to work for EarthStar, but it didn't happen because there was no car signed out. I should've signed it out, but forgot, and couldn't figure out how to get a car, once I remembered after dinner on Monday night. The vehicles are assigned at dinner the day before for the next day. Sometimes when I forget, someone else signs it out, but that didn't happen this time, so Kyle and I had to stay home. I like that we have a system for sharing vehicles, and I wish I'd been able to get a car when I needed it. I've lived with this system for a long time, and have wondered how to improve it and haven't thought of anything that would work, besides having more cars.

So here it is, Christmas Eve, and my family didn't go to Kansas because there needs to be milkers on the farm. Oddly enough, I don't feel that needed in the dairy, and am somewhat resentful that I'm here. I am earning labor credits, anyway, I tell myself. But I still miss being home.

I read my friend Paxus' blog, and was disappointed I couldn't get to his latest post, because Blogger tells me that page doesn't exist. I've copied what my Dashboard has below. Wonder where the rest is.

complain, complain, complain
Kelpie

Winning Ugly

posted by memeticist at Everyone but the Devil means well - 19 hours ago

Lucifer tells me that the financial crisis in Russia is getting so bad, that nuclear insiders are now thinking that none of the 10 proposed domestic ractor projects are likely to be built. This is not inf...

Bought something!

It's the hard truth of life that to make coffee, one must be awake enough to make it. It takes a certain amount of focused attention to grind the beans and boil the water, and often these attributes are scarce, first thing in the morning. The lure of the dark pungent coffee is all that one can go on.

Winter's here, and we're in the magic time between Solstice and New Year's when we celebrate the return of the Light. I'm attending three Yule rituals this year, two of which I'm helping to organize. And I also celebrate Christmas, because it's a wonderful holiday and I love newborns. Somehow at Christmas, it's easier to see the newborn in everyone.

Rowan and I went to town yesterday and picked out a truly wonderful present for Keenan. We felt quite gleeful afterwords, as we ate our lunch at Panda Garden, and looked out the window at the car which held the glorious present in the trunk. I can't tell you what it is, but I can tell you it's something big, and something he'll use often. Rowan had the idea, which I thought was too big at first, and then realized how perfect the present will be, so we got it.

Okey dokey artichokey,
Much love and light,
Kelpie

Cold!!

We've got crunchy mud here, and it looks like it'll be crunchy for a while. Yesterday, while driving over Afton Mountain, we saw that the fog had frozen on the trees to make a crystal sculpture of dark and light. I saw a little dusting of snow, too, and more on the farther mountaintops, but no snow fell on the Oaks. I like crunchy mud, though, and I think the cows do too. It's easier to walk in than the hoof-sucking squelchy gumbo that forms by the water tanks.

I really like cows. The more I work in the dairy, the more I enjoy it. The crew is great, the cows are great, and the setting is near perfect. I like moving inanimate objects and feeling competent, and then there's the wonderful payoff of the milk. During my initiation preparations, I started offering a glass of milk in thanksgiving, and the practice has suited me and the milk quite well. I've tried to make a list out loud of all that goes into bringing the milk to the glass, in order to properly give my gratitude. I've discovered it's a never ending list. There's the cows, of course, and there's me. There's also the rest of the dairy crew and each person's contribution to the working system, including the past dairy workers. And the land itself, of course, and the water, and the systems that went into making the water come up from the depths so the cows (and me) can drink it. Then there's all the piping and cans and whatnot that keep the milk fresh. And then all that the cows eat: the hay, the grass, the minerals, they've all come from somewhere, constantly and abundantly. Not to mention all the organisms that live in the cow and help digest the food. It's a twice daily miracle, that all that goes through a cow, and then comes out as something me, my family, and my community can drink or eat as cheese, butter, and yogurt. I easily see why cows are holy. Tang, the orange tabby at the barn, feels the same way about the milk as I do. I don't know Tang's theology -- haven't asked.

Come drink our milk whenever you want. There's plenty.
okeydokey artichokey,
Kelpie

The Earth turns, and the sun's coming back

It's important to maintain perspective, at least that's what I've heard. What I think that means is, learn how to look at something from a bunch of different points of view, and there's so many it can be hard to choose one, but don't get stuck in just one. In fact, it's good to have a couple, in case you lose one. Once I was witness to a short back and forth on whether "stuck" was a feeling or not. I've thought about it (from several different perspectives), and I've come to the conclusion that yes, "stuck" is a feeling, and a symptom of losing perspective.

I'm pretty good at not feeling stuck, but it can creep up on me when I'm thinking about something else. Sometimes I can wind myself up in a string of thoughts and can't get out without help. Gack, I hate that when that happens.

All this to say, I went to Staunton yesterday to spend time with friends, go to a Yule ritual, and gain at least one more perspective. I came home happy and content and ready for a nap. I truly love sleep.
okey dokey artichokey,
Kelpie

Dark, dark, dark, and muddy

Must be winter time, all I want to do is play in the snow. Now I have a GREAT new coat to play in, and no snow. Mom and Dad sent me my Christmas present early, and it's got a hood, and it's warm, and CLEAN. There's a lot of all sorts of dirt on a farm, and I seem to attract it (it's my magnetic personality). I have several coats, and now they've all gone down one notch, to make room for my new coat at the top. The other coats are now officially "work coats." That means I can wear them when I hang out with the cows. Cows also have magnetic personalities, and they can get very, very, um, magnetic. I'm glad I've got big rubber boots, with inserts, too.

I can also be warm when I go over Afton Mountain to work with pipes and people, learning how to make people spaces warm. It's ironic that working to make warm spaces inside seems to involve a lot of being cold outside. Or even inside, really! Earthstar's workshop can be cold. It's a big ol' concrete warehouse. I can't wait for summer, hee hee.

The building I live in is so warm that Keenan and I have turned off the heat to our wing. We're downstairs, living right on the concrete slab, and there's thick walls (I want to write, "RF4," but is that right?). The kitchen/dining room has loads of windows on the south side, and the heat just pours in. Then we've got our warm bodies, too, heating up the place. Who needs radiators when we've got all that? We turned a handle on the control board and sent all the heat to those who need it, upstairs. So far, no complaints. We've been doing this for years, and can turn the heat back on if and when we need it.
okey dokey artichokey
much love and warmth and light,
Kelpie

On the run?

I live at a crossroads called Twin Oaks. It's a great place, and the food is terrific. The locals are mostly friendly -- in my time here, only two people have been bitten by copperheads. There's the usual insect pests, but they're mostly just a nuisance. Rot and mold are probably our biggest headaches, along with wiregrass. The people here are great and much the same as the locals.

What bothers me the most is the speed at which the people move, and I mean MOVE. They up and leave with some regularity. We call it turnover, and I call it a nuisance. I live at the crossroads, myself, and I try to be friendly. I hear Americans move a lot, compared to Europeans. Is it all the cars? Is it that some folks started going west and couldn't stop, and now they bounce around? Is it that humans are naturally nomadic?

This holiday season, my family's staying here and not doing the annual grandparent pilgrimage. I like it, and I miss going away, too. I've got the same bounce that the rest of us have, and Mom tells me there's snow in Kansas. I really like snow, now that I live in Virginia, and I'm homesick.

So, here I am, watching the commune empty out, as part of its annual schedule. There'll be a rush back in a week or so, for New Years, and then we'll settle into Winter, truly. Wonder if it'll snow, or if it'll just be mud season for a while.

okeydokey artichokey,
Kelpie

Happy drumming

I have a friend who's an excellent drummer. He's so good, he's infectious. It's pretty hard to not drum when he's drumming, and it's not just me that's saying so. Our weekly drumming circle, "Drumgasm," seems to be catching on, with more and more drummers showing up. It's also attracted dancers. And you know, I can't really tell the difference between drummers and dancers, it all kind of becomes one big groove. Tupelo living room now rocks weekly on Tuesday evenings around 8pm, going until we drop (which seems to be about 10:30). If we get too big for Tupelo, we'll go outside and then we'll drum with the whole world.

Yesterday it was particularly important for me to drum, as I was depressed after getting a speeding ticket from a Waynesboro city cop. I don't mind contributing financially to worthy institutions, but I don't like highway robbery. I was breaking, which the cop couldn't see because he clocked me going the other direction on a two-way street. I was going 40 in a work zone usually posted at 35, but was 25 for the approaching construction. It was just past the sign, and I was coming off the highway. The cop's a jerk, but no more than the system he's working for. I tried to think of a time when a cop helped me out -- any cop, any cop at all -- and I couldn't. I'm sure there's been a time, I just can't think of it, it's not in my mind anywhere. Maybe when I was little? I try to be nice to them anyway. They're the ones with the guns, after all. Apparantly, there are civilized countries where cops don't have guns.

I was in Waynesboro cleaning and fluxing copper pipe for control boards for solar energy heating systems. Earthstar is the name of the biz, and there's a bunch of Oakers interested in solar heating. The work's pretty fun, and reminded me of my brother who's an artist in CA, and made a sculpture out of pipe many years ago that I admired. It's probably still in my parents' back yard. I wish my family didn't live so far from my brother's, but for a day, while cleaning pipe, I was right there with him in his art class at KU.

Okeydokey artichokey,
much love,
Kelpie

Looking at shiny

Arrrrgggghhhh. I've done it again, and left Christmas shopping to the last minute, and am grouchy about it. Where's my personal buyer? Somehow the job didn't get filled. Hmm, could it be I actually don't like buying things? I just don't take to it naturally. I'm kind of un-American that way. I wanted to ship some wine to my parents, but noooooo, one can't do that over the internet, if one's parents live in Kansas. Just as well, I couldn't afford it anyway. Thhhhppppt. I'll have to send them some grapes, and they can do the rest.

Ok, got that out of my system.

Keenan wants me to walk around the block with him, and Rowan says, "have a nice walk," and it's time to get away from the little shiny rectangle and go outside where the air's sweet and the sun is shiny.

okey dokey artichokey,
Kelpie

Cold, locks, moon

It's cold now, it'll be warm later, and the pregnant cows on East Slope will just have to wait for their water until the pipe thaws. I thought about bringing them water in a bucket and my back said, "no." I try to listen to my body, considering that it's been me for some time and will be me for some more time. So far, so good, although I've got back issues. I don't know anyone who doesn't. Young whippersnappers, of course, are still creating their back issues, but they'll catch up, I'm sure. Young whippersnappers usually do. At least I'm not pregnant, nor a cow.

I did a deed yesterday, or a series of deeds, which will result in the rifle cabinet conforming to policy. That darned rifle cabinet has a darned rifle in it (for putting down bovines), and neither Palin nor I care much about it, but other people do, so shuckydarn, I walked around and talked to old farts and now the rifle cabinet can only be opened with a determined person with a crowbar or two other determined people with keys to two locks -- that is, it takes the two of them to unlock it. You'd be surprised how much trouble can be caused by shouting in the dining hall, especially when those who shout can also write O&I papers. But, for all of you who were alarmed by the thought of our butcher having sole access to the rifle, well, now co doesn't. You may sleep in your beds now without fear.

I like sleep. I've been sleeping quite well, despite the moon being brighter than ever, according to my mom and Kyle, who I believe. Some people see a man in the moon. Some people see their future. I'm in the rabbit club, myself. Somehow, don't remember how, I heard there's a rabbit in the moon, maybe jumping over a bush. Sure enough, I can always find the rabbit. I've never really understood the man in the moon.

Okeydokey artichokey,
much love,
Kelpie

I want to drive a new car

Brrr, it's so cold, the dog dish is frozen halfway through. Wonder what the pond is doing, and my bucket pond, too.

I made a garden, of sorts, for my Reclaiming initiation, and I sunk a bucket in a low spot, and put gold fish in it. Zadek and Luuk really like helping me feed the fish. We get dog food and crush it so the fish can eat it. It's a miniature permaculture altar garden. In fact, most people just call it an altar, instead of a garden. My gardening skills are yet to be developed.

You may be wondering about Eve-the-cow. The dairy crew's giving up on barn training her, and will try again next month. It's a bit odd having cows named after goddesses. We also have Ixchel, Lilith, and Demeter. We used to have a Jersey named Kali, a very long time ago.

We also have a member named Eve. Eve's the official administrative person for our vehicle fleet. It could be that she's the auto manager. She's the one who registers our cars. We have a new car now, a silver Subaru, that needs a name before it can be registered. We had a naming party, but the resulting name was offensive; apparantly 10 people complained, and now what? Who knows? The car is lovely, and sits waiting. The offensive name: "Darth Dingo." I think it could be called "No Name," but that would probably be offensive, too.

Okey dokey,
much love,
Kelpie

Wow, I had a time of it with Eve-the-cow this morning! Omigosh, a heifer with two things on her mind in this order: 1) Eat Food 2)Do Not Enter The Barn. We're barn-training her, which means, teaching her to walk into the barn. You'd think that would be easy. It often is. With Eve-the-cow, it is not. She consented to walk to the top step of the in-ramp to stick her nose and flare her nostrils in the barn, but to actually set foot in the barn was not something she was willing to do. She was more than happy to back up down the ramp, several times, after being lured to the top, several times, with grain. Ei, ei, ei. A particular sort of cow. A lovely wonderful cow, who someday will walk happily into the barn and eat grain. Maybe next week.

Eve-the-cow aside, I had a great time on my shift, and will go back for more this evening. I'm happy I have FOUR shifts next week! Hurray! Sadly, one of the other milkers had to cancel out of her shifts next week, and the truly great labor assigner gave me her shifts! Hurray! Thanks Elspeth! And I got a stretcher thingie with Kyle too, hurray! Slooowly but surely, I'll get out of the labor mess I'm in, and be a "member in good standing" once again. It seems there's a happy conspiracy to give me work! I feel very fortunate indeed, and can only hope that this sort of thing will spread.

Okey dokey, I've promised the 'puter to my offspring,
much love,
Kelpie

Brrr!

Home from Florida, after a long and somewhat painful road trip. We seem to be settling back in well. At one point, I had decided not to go on our annual Thanksgiving trip to see Keenan's relatives, due to my negative labor balance, and then I decided I should go after all. I'm glad I made that decision, as I doubt I could have worked as much as I would've liked, with my family gone, but now I really have to buckle down!

It's cold here, in Virginia. There's frost in the morning, and I'm sure that when I milk tomorrow, I'll have to deal with frozen hoses. We fill up the tanks for the cows, and when it's freezing, it's more difficult. I'll probably want to make a fire in the woodstove in the barn, also, to keep me warm. Not like Florida at all!!

Apparently, because our cows are grass fed, the milk that we drink is of higher quality, and just chock full of vitamins. The farm definitely drinks as much as we produce!! These days, it's not as plentiful as in the spring, when there's more grass, but we still have enough to provide two cans of drinking milk each day. The rest is made into cheese.

okey dokey artichokey,
much love,
Kelpie