Hello lovelies

It's been a long time since my last blog post. Somehow I wasn't really motivated and felt the need to withdraw. To withdraw from the world, from all the goings-on "out there", from the discussions and the mutual "I'm right" wrangling. Instead of focusing on the old Lakota wisdom Mitakuye oyasin, which means: we are all related, many individuals seem to find it more important to pour oil on the fire over and over again, thus fueling the hatred and anger towards other people even more. How sad that they don't realize that they are creating their own hell instead of heaven on our wonderful Mother Earth.

Over the last few months, I've been tempted time and again to add my two cents on social media, but I've made a conscious decision not to. I think anyone with any common sense understands that something is going very wrong here. But for me personally, it makes no sense to take a stand on either side. Because as mentioned above: Mitakuye oyasin - we are all related and therefore on the same "side".

But now I would like to tell you about my day today.

Last night was anything but calm. A storm raged. Loud howling around the house, the wind chimes on the trees gave their all, but thank goodness they are apparently very well attached, because this morning they were all still hanging on 😉. The dogs didn't seem to mind the noise outside, they were fast asleep in their beds. The chickens were in their coop, the cats were in their baskets in the warm laundry room, and if I could have, I would have brought my two horses Smart and Lilla Q into the house. As it was, I could only hope that they had retreated to the stable.

I'm awake again at four in the morning and the gusts (or is it buoys? - for the Rägeli (an insider)) are still sweeping over the land and the house. I can't think about sleeping any longer, but I persevere until the alarm clock rings at six. During the two hours, I spend the whole time thinking about how much smarter it would be to get up now and do some yoga instead of tossing and turning from side to side. But what can I say, I'm sure I'll manage to overcome my inner bastard at some point.

At 6.45 a.m., Tim and I get into the car so that I can drive him to the bus. I have a sneaking suspicion that the storm may have been the undoing of a few trees, which is confirmed after 200 meters. A tree is lying across our path leading from the yard. Well, it's clear that we won't make the bus. And that I can't get to work at 8 o'clock, too. So we reverse back into the yard, into the workshop, grab the chainsaw and head back to the tree. As it's still pitch dark at this time of night, the car's headlights are perfect and MY son (my mother's heart swells with pride) starts the chainsaw, cuts up the tree and we join forces to clear the way. We leave the chainsaw in the car, as we might need to use it again.

Fast forward: I drive Tim 40 minutes to school, then to work, home, feed the horses, muck out the stable, walk the dogs, clear away fallen branches, check the fences. And as I stand in front of the open garage after work, I see a cute little bird sitting in front of it. It flies up and flies straight into the garage, then I hear a PLOPP. I immediately think to myself that it has flown into the window, run in and actually see it sitting on the floor, a little dazed, but alive. So I go there, and Garfield shoots out of the cat door from the left and grabs the little bird! I'm horrified, grab him by the neck, shake him and shout "OUT!" It always works with dogs, but it seems to be different with cats. My God, what a drama! He's growling at me, yes really, he's growling at me! The little bird between his teeth. I let him go, because in the meantime I just hope that he kills the little one as quickly as possible to spare him a long suffering. I want to chase him out to the garage, but he turns around and dashes through the cat door back into the laundry room. Great! I go after him and he hides behind the washing machine. I can still hear the little bird making soft noises and am about to start howling. No chance of getting him out from behind it. Completely hopeless. I have no choice but to go out and let what has to happen happen. I know it's nature and all that. But honestly, every morning and every evening Garfield and Jackie pull the same stunt when I come with the food. They scream, jump up, almost snatch the food out of my hands. You'd think they were starving (they're not too thin by the way) and then they still have to murder birds??? I know I should have praised him. I do when he comes along with a dead mouse in his mouth (not that I think mice are any less cute or anything, but they do damage). But I really can't manage to praise him. In any case, dinner is served an hour later and what can I say? The usual shouting continues. I wish Garfield would settle for lasagna, like a real Garfield does.

I've now done 1 hour of yoga, a lot of relaxing and so on, to get back to my center after this dramatic experience. Now I'm going to bed and hope that the storm will also sleep tonight and that a gentle wind will carry the little bird's soul into the vastness of the universe.

Good night to you all out there

Sincerely

Your Ilvy