May 3, 2006
I woke this morning from an intense dream. My dreams are often vivid... colors, smells, sounds, textures; I walk in other worlds, no doubt.
So here it is:
I was moving into an apartment/motel (extended stay type place) building for a short stay. It was of 60's design, metal railings, groovy carpets and crazy "modern" chandeliers in the hallways- think rusts, orange, avocado greens. Yeah baby. I was with several people I know well, including Greg. We all were burdened with big bags as if we were travelling for a long time, and intended to stay for a while.
While heading up to the room with more bags, I decided to take the circuitous route. The place was long and wide, only 3 stories, and an open plan (with all those metal railings you could see alot). I began to see people dressed in ancient nomadic garb leading their rough, small ponies about. They were all over the hotel, mostly the first and second floor; they were real, in fact they felt more real than the patrons in their jeans. I was incredibly drawn to them.
I saw them leading the horses into rooms; into the fields behind the motel. I must have set my bags down somewhere because I was suddenly free to follow. There was one rider and horse in particular that caught my eye; it was a woman, she was dressed in tan doe skins and had a flat drum strapped to her back. Her horse was a beautiful little dun, and was loaded down with baggage. They went into a room and unloaded; I saw them head towards the gift shop after that. The horse had a pronounced limp in the rear; I wanted to offer my myotherpy services to her, even free, just to be near them and discover who they were. They went into the gift shop so I followed. They must have left by a back door; they were not in the shop when I entered. The shopkeeper was a round American woman, dressed in jeans with a t-shirt on- a black one with a wolf and lightening bolts (you have seen those, you know what I mean). She had short dark curly hair. I said, "Who are all these people, and what in the world are they doing here?" I could see the woman and the little dun in the field behind the motel, they had left by a back door. The woman said, "they were displaced, and they are supposed to be here temporarily; it's awkward for them, and for us..." We were sitting on the floor, and I was watching out the window. I could see all sorts of people and these amazing horses. There was another, a black one, that was three legged lame- holding up her right foreleg. I said, "Is anyone even tending to these horses? Some are wounded! I need to help" and I felt deep emotions, tears in my eyes; but as she turned to see what horse I was talking about, the black had become a woman with long silky black hair, very Native looking, holding her arm awkwardly and laughing with the boy that had been leading her when she was a horse. I was stunned; but I could see flickering in her form the horse she was.
To the left there was a hill. It had looked like a graveyard, with a little snow on it, I overlooked it- barely saw it- before. As I watched, the woman with the dun were riding towards the graves. The little dun had no baggage on it now, and the woman rode her bareback, still with the drum on her back; they were a blend of tans, all the same and natural- they fit together. The woman rode the dun in a fury towards the graves. I exclaimed- "But see how she runs, and injured! Look at her hip, she's painful, but she's loyal- she will do this, despite her pain!" and the tears were choking my throat.
They plunged inbetween the graves, and I saw that the graves were printed on paper, and the white was not snow but paper- and the churning hooves tore up the illusion and revealed what lay beneath. I held my sobs- for beneath were horses, hundreds of them, only their heads above ground and a curious path made of horseshoes to the right of them. As she darted around, ripping the fake graves, the horses in the ground began to stir. They were of all colors horses come in. I watched as nostrils began to move, ears twitched, and I was fully crying now, in that shop- I could not tell if they were trapped, buried alive or if they were waking, what was going on. I only knew that the drive in me to go and help was strong, and that I needed to know them, that woman, and that dun. It was stunning.
I think I woke then, my throat tight, choked... I have many dreams of horses and native americans, and they are always vivid. This one burns in my mind, and I had to share. I have written it, and now the haunting can fade a little so I can move through the day in peace... Wed,
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Police Horses
Wed, April 26, 2006
One of the perks of being a vet student is getting to play with all the cool animals. Three months ago I got to play with a baby aardvark; I can have my fill of puppies, kitties and llamas anytime I need a fuzz fix.
But today, I got to go and help vaccinate the MA state police horses before their long summer season of work. Two weeks ago we got to draw blood for EEE and the Coggins test; two months ago I got to learn dentistry on them as well; they get a cheap rate, and we get a whole barn to practice on!
They are all bays, and all geldings except for the one mare (who was having none of their nonsense today, can't blame her). There's always a pair of crusty old mounties there with them, and the convicts from Walpole clean the stalls and the barn in the morning- we aren't allowed to talk to them... go to jail, no girls, sorry!
It was fun, and definitely a sense of accomplishment. Nice study break anyways, getting outside, burying your hands in horse hair; I came away with dirty hands, smelling of horse with a big huge smile on my face. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
One of the perks of being a vet student is getting to play with all the cool animals. Three months ago I got to play with a baby aardvark; I can have my fill of puppies, kitties and llamas anytime I need a fuzz fix.
But today, I got to go and help vaccinate the MA state police horses before their long summer season of work. Two weeks ago we got to draw blood for EEE and the Coggins test; two months ago I got to learn dentistry on them as well; they get a cheap rate, and we get a whole barn to practice on!
They are all bays, and all geldings except for the one mare (who was having none of their nonsense today, can't blame her). There's always a pair of crusty old mounties there with them, and the convicts from Walpole clean the stalls and the barn in the morning- we aren't allowed to talk to them... go to jail, no girls, sorry!
It was fun, and definitely a sense of accomplishment. Nice study break anyways, getting outside, burying your hands in horse hair; I came away with dirty hands, smelling of horse with a big huge smile on my face. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
ancient magic dwindles
Sat, April 15, 2006
Please watch this amazing video. It is about the felling of ancient sacred oaks in England where two wild island ponies ran right up to where they were felling the trees and ran about causing chaos. The land cries out for its desecration... I cried too... and you may as well.
www.supershorts.org.uk/view.html
Please watch this amazing video. It is about the felling of ancient sacred oaks in England where two wild island ponies ran right up to where they were felling the trees and ran about causing chaos. The land cries out for its desecration... I cried too... and you may as well.
www.supershorts.org.uk/view.html
aaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhh!
Sun, April 9, 2006
I am trying so hard, so very hard, to bend my will and study like it's all I want to do. I shouldn't bitch, I know, I'm priveleged to be in vet school and lucky to be getting this education... that's the stuff they said in the packets I got when I was accepted, it seems... but hey folks, it sucks. It really and truly does. I am exhausted and can't stop. I try to sqeeze in some form of pleasure into my life here and there, like seeing you lovely people, or going to the gym, cooking when I can... all these things bring profound guilt because it means I am not studying every single second. I am not an A student, and I have stopped striving for A's because it was making me so depressed; it would be an inhuman effort on my part to get there. I don't actually think it's possible. No, it's not one of those self depricating things; I really mean it. It is an insane amount of information we are trying to swallow, and Tufts is the most curriculum heavy of all the schools (the others are a little shocked at what we have to do!) I do love it for all the reasons I applied, like the fact that it is a humane based school heavy in ethics and so forth... and an institution that prides itself on having the most over achievers possible. But folks! I sometimes feel it is draining away who I am. It takes me a while to relax, and sometimes I realize that I forget who I am and how funny I can be. I don't like feeling I am losing my Self.
The hardest part is that it is nearly impossible to maintain a support group because I am simply not available. And this is the heaviest emotional and mental burden I have ever experienced; most of the time I feel I am pretty nearly alone in it, by design. It's not that anyone who loves me wouldn't jump at the chance to be supportive... but it's a matter of, when?
So I am profoundly frustrated, tired, burnt out, and I have the better part of two months left to the semester. I am so tired! So tired that I feel like I don't care now! I have an exam tomorrow, and have been beating myself all day with the test materials, trying so hard to chain myself to it and make it happen; my resolve has been crumbling, no focus...
Well enough bitching... this is why I don't often answer the 'how are you?' question; it's too much. Way too much. And most people can't understand (and I am not saying that meanly!) because they just can't...
It's like being thrown in a lake and being told that the only way to survive is not to swim, but to drink the whole thing...
ugh.
Tue, April 11, 2006
Thank you everyone for all your support. It isn't often that I reach out and bleed like that... but it's very comforting knowing that when I had to do it, you were all there to mop up the goo. Instead of telling me to suck up and deal, or shut the fuck up or whatever... you people are amazing, awesome... what can I say? My life is better and better all the time.
I am trying so hard, so very hard, to bend my will and study like it's all I want to do. I shouldn't bitch, I know, I'm priveleged to be in vet school and lucky to be getting this education... that's the stuff they said in the packets I got when I was accepted, it seems... but hey folks, it sucks. It really and truly does. I am exhausted and can't stop. I try to sqeeze in some form of pleasure into my life here and there, like seeing you lovely people, or going to the gym, cooking when I can... all these things bring profound guilt because it means I am not studying every single second. I am not an A student, and I have stopped striving for A's because it was making me so depressed; it would be an inhuman effort on my part to get there. I don't actually think it's possible. No, it's not one of those self depricating things; I really mean it. It is an insane amount of information we are trying to swallow, and Tufts is the most curriculum heavy of all the schools (the others are a little shocked at what we have to do!) I do love it for all the reasons I applied, like the fact that it is a humane based school heavy in ethics and so forth... and an institution that prides itself on having the most over achievers possible. But folks! I sometimes feel it is draining away who I am. It takes me a while to relax, and sometimes I realize that I forget who I am and how funny I can be. I don't like feeling I am losing my Self.
The hardest part is that it is nearly impossible to maintain a support group because I am simply not available. And this is the heaviest emotional and mental burden I have ever experienced; most of the time I feel I am pretty nearly alone in it, by design. It's not that anyone who loves me wouldn't jump at the chance to be supportive... but it's a matter of, when?
So I am profoundly frustrated, tired, burnt out, and I have the better part of two months left to the semester. I am so tired! So tired that I feel like I don't care now! I have an exam tomorrow, and have been beating myself all day with the test materials, trying so hard to chain myself to it and make it happen; my resolve has been crumbling, no focus...
Well enough bitching... this is why I don't often answer the 'how are you?' question; it's too much. Way too much. And most people can't understand (and I am not saying that meanly!) because they just can't...
It's like being thrown in a lake and being told that the only way to survive is not to swim, but to drink the whole thing...
ugh.
Tue, April 11, 2006
Thank you everyone for all your support. It isn't often that I reach out and bleed like that... but it's very comforting knowing that when I had to do it, you were all there to mop up the goo. Instead of telling me to suck up and deal, or shut the fuck up or whatever... you people are amazing, awesome... what can I say? My life is better and better all the time.
humble poi. pie. whatever.
Sun, March 26, 2006
I went to KY over spring break... met some cool poi chicks.. and was inspired to make some fuzzy friendly practice poi out of fun fur. You can hit yourself with them, and it doesn't hurt!! It really frees me up to try crazy new stuff.
So I made me some funky fuzzy poi, hot orange fur with pink fur tips. I LOVE them. I heart my new poi.
I took these bad boys to the gym, usual place usual time, work out in the aerobics room in front of the mirror, get my technique tight and so on. So every once in a while I share the room with someone else, doing yoga or pushups or what have you.
So there was this hot young guy, doing some pretty intense pushups n stuff.
And I was like, yeah look at me, I'm all badass with my funky hot poi, yeah, that's right I'm the fire mamma watch me go... feeling all hot and confident, making those mofos work!
Yeah so I'm in the middle of my little spazz routine when one of those little fuckers breaks its loop and goes flying off the chain.
WTF!!!
I had to eat me some humble pie... what a goober... I demurely picked up my crazy little orange fuzz ball and quickly exited said aerobics room... yikes. That'll teach me. Happens every time, man! You think your hot and suddenly the sidewalk comes up and smacks you in the ass.
freak.
I went to KY over spring break... met some cool poi chicks.. and was inspired to make some fuzzy friendly practice poi out of fun fur. You can hit yourself with them, and it doesn't hurt!! It really frees me up to try crazy new stuff.
So I made me some funky fuzzy poi, hot orange fur with pink fur tips. I LOVE them. I heart my new poi.
I took these bad boys to the gym, usual place usual time, work out in the aerobics room in front of the mirror, get my technique tight and so on. So every once in a while I share the room with someone else, doing yoga or pushups or what have you.
So there was this hot young guy, doing some pretty intense pushups n stuff.
And I was like, yeah look at me, I'm all badass with my funky hot poi, yeah, that's right I'm the fire mamma watch me go... feeling all hot and confident, making those mofos work!
Yeah so I'm in the middle of my little spazz routine when one of those little fuckers breaks its loop and goes flying off the chain.
WTF!!!
I had to eat me some humble pie... what a goober... I demurely picked up my crazy little orange fuzz ball and quickly exited said aerobics room... yikes. That'll teach me. Happens every time, man! You think your hot and suddenly the sidewalk comes up and smacks you in the ass.
freak.
goddamn jar
Sat, June 18, 2005
So I came home from work really really hungry. Mmmm, I know, I will have some of those nice fresh raviolies I got at the supermarket. There was a nice fresh jar of sauce, yet unopened, in the fridge (I have very little cabinet space...)
I have the raviolies boiling on the stove, and pull out the jar.
My usual method is to spank the bottom of the jar, hard, as that helps break the seal; then it should open right up.
right.
I fought with that damn jar for 10 minutes! I grunted and sweated, I tried steaming it, I tried banging it on the counter, I tried everything. I was red faced and frustrated when I heard a lawn mower next door.
Hmmm...
I look out and yes, it was a man.
And aren't men so good at jars, after all?
It is humiliation for me, though; here I am, wrangling horses everyday for a living, and I can't open a frickin jar of sauce?
So I march out there, waving this jar at him. He looked like he thought I was gonna hit him with it. But he galliantly shut off the mower and I said, Help me! I have been arguing with this jar for 10 minutes and I can't get it open!!!
Now mind you; I was wearing my long grey wiggle skirt, a tight black tank top, my hair was in disarray and I was barefoot. He decided it was funny, laughed, took the jar and he too began to struggle with it.
I felt much better...
He got it open after a minute or two of grunting.
Ahhh, it's good to be a woman.
So I came home from work really really hungry. Mmmm, I know, I will have some of those nice fresh raviolies I got at the supermarket. There was a nice fresh jar of sauce, yet unopened, in the fridge (I have very little cabinet space...)
I have the raviolies boiling on the stove, and pull out the jar.
My usual method is to spank the bottom of the jar, hard, as that helps break the seal; then it should open right up.
right.
I fought with that damn jar for 10 minutes! I grunted and sweated, I tried steaming it, I tried banging it on the counter, I tried everything. I was red faced and frustrated when I heard a lawn mower next door.
Hmmm...
I look out and yes, it was a man.
And aren't men so good at jars, after all?
It is humiliation for me, though; here I am, wrangling horses everyday for a living, and I can't open a frickin jar of sauce?
So I march out there, waving this jar at him. He looked like he thought I was gonna hit him with it. But he galliantly shut off the mower and I said, Help me! I have been arguing with this jar for 10 minutes and I can't get it open!!!
Now mind you; I was wearing my long grey wiggle skirt, a tight black tank top, my hair was in disarray and I was barefoot. He decided it was funny, laughed, took the jar and he too began to struggle with it.
I felt much better...
He got it open after a minute or two of grunting.
Ahhh, it's good to be a woman.
A place where stories may rest
A couple of years ago, I began running in the forest. As I ran, alone, through the trees, the stories were born. One by one they blossomed in my mind, begging to be remembered and told. When I would return home, sweating and red, I would sit immediately at the computer and spill from my mind the story that emerged from the Wood. They all went into a blog in Tribe, a community site which has been failing... and so I will peel each of them from the electronic pages of that site and republish them here, so that they will not be lost. They reach back further beyond just stories born by wild dashes in the Wood, into great memories; starting in 2004 or 2005. I will republish them here and travel through them once more.
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