Hermit Blog

An Award Winning Blog!

Mon, 8 Feb 2010 15:02:52 -0700

Well, I’m just flattered more than I can say! One of my readers (Diann at The Thrifty Groove, a proud penny-pinching bunch of hints and tips) has just given me an award for being a Kreativ Blogger. And no, that’s not a misspelling, the award originated in Norway. You can read a bit about the history of the award at Diann’s husband’s website, I Refuse To Recede. (His website is a delightful compendium of herbs and recipes and gardening).

The award comes with two duties: 1) tell the world 7 interesting things about yourself and 2) nominate your favorite 7 blogs for the award.

Without further ado, here are my 7 interesting things about me... well, I think they’re interesting, but I make no express or implied warranty that you will find them so.

1) I am one of those rare creatures called a Native Coloradan. My parents lived about 12 miles on the OTHER side of the Colorado state border, but I was born in Colorado.
2) I am not connected to any outside power source. 100% of my electricity is generated by photovoltaic (solar electric) panels. Once the concrete slab for the house was completed, all electricity to power tools has also been generated by the sun.
3) My home is one of the most documented dwellings ever. At every stage of construction, notes were taken, serial numbers recorded, and copious quantities of photographs were snapped. I have more than 30,000 photos documenting this house, its construction, and the beautiful valley in which I live.
4) I’ve visited 49 of the 50 states. Only Alaska has missed the pleasure of my presence.
5) I love baking bread.
6) I had an extra baby tooth when I was a kid. When my parents took me to the dentist to have it removed so that I wouldn’t have crooked teeth, I bit the dentist.
7) In an unrelated incident, I bit the nose off my teddy bear, which I still have. The teddy bear, that is. The nose, one can only assume, was flushed away some 50 years ago.

And now, drumroll please, my 7 favorite blogs, in no particular order:

• Howard’s Web Pen Blog ... a wonderful mix of music, movies, and humor. And Howard helped name Angelo.
• Tim’s High Mountain Ranch ... a former trucker cowboy, turned writer. Also check out his main website at http://highmountainranch.com/
• Andy‘s Spicy Cauldron ... a pagan poet and writer, green focused, chicken raiser
• Tee’s Adventure Journalist... photographer and writer, and former San Luis Valley resident
• Michelle Kaufmann’s Green Living Blog ... This architect and writer really ‘gets’ what it means to live gently on the earth, and her designs and suggestions are excellent. I like this architect so much that much of the floorplan of the Hermitage is based on one of her designs.
• Shreve Stockton’s Daily Coyote, a wonderful blog about a writer, her coyote and other canine pals, and rural life in Wyoming. Her book, The Daily Coyote, is available in paperback or Kindle editions

Thanks again for the kind nomination, Diann!

Oh, and one more update... a bunch of thanks to the folks who have donated to keeping this website up and running, and to those who subscribe to the blog via their Kindles... you warm my heart. Blog subscriptions via Kindle are up 50% in one week!

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A Feline Sensibility

Sun, 7 Feb 2010 10:52:46 -0700

Oh Puh leeze. There are times I want to just hack furballs as far as I can.

These love letters between canine and human are fascinating as case studies of deranged minds, but the emotion is just too sacharine. They sound like they were written in third grade. Blech.

As if two creatures who lack the capacity to purr could express even the simplest of emotions: satisfaction.

Where was I when the dog ran away again? Right where I was supposed to be. By the fire, keeping warm, and trying to maintain some semblance of normality while the human was pacing back and forth and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Where was I when we got a foot of snow? Right where I was supposed to be. By the fire, keeping warm, and trying to maintain some semblance of normality in this wacky house.

What did I do when the human’s friend came over howling about a snake next to his house? I napped. In my proper place, by the fire, keeping warm, and trying to maintain some semblance of normality.

When the dog goes off barking and yowling at things that fly through the air, I quietly retreat to the utility room. THE UTILITY ROOM. Is there ANY justice in having the superior being retreat to some place so plain? I think not.

I don’t ask for much in return for my fierce hunting skills, or for my extreme efforts to bring balance to this testosterone-laden abode, just keep the damned fire burning, my bowl full, and fresh water. And open the door when I want out, and again when I want in.

Oh, and could I PLEASE have a drama-free room? With a nice cushy chair, and my own fireplace?

Now, I’m going to take a nap. And when I wake up, there’d better be some food in the bowl. And there’d better be some peace and quiet in here. Or I’m warning you. Vomit and furballs everywhere.

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Thoughts About The Man

Sat, 6 Feb 2010 03:59:40 -0700

There are times I worry about The Man. I wonder if I’ve made him too dependent on me. Like all dogs, I suppose, I wonder if I might have trained my human better. Oh sure, he does all the standard tricks pretty well. He fills the water bowl, he fills the food dish, and I let him give me a treat or two if he’s been good. But he just doesn’t seem to be able to play.

He’s always so serious about things. He sits at the thing he calls a computer, and stares for hours, making that clicking sound on the thing he calls a keyboard. And he does this while the wind is blowing fresh scents in from everywhere, when the sun could be warming his fur. And he doesn’t even chase rabbits or deer.

I’ve tried to explain to him about the feel of the wind on my face, about hearing little noises in the sage brush, and chasing after them with vigor. I’ve shown him the simple joy of howling at the moon, of singing harmony with my wild brethren the coyotes. I’ve even tried showing him how exciting it is to be in the truck with one’s head outside the window, instead of behind all that glass.

It’s like he doesn’t even understand what I’m saying.

Sometimes the pressure of the responsibility for The Man is just too much. Sometimes I just need some time to myself, to forget that I hold this responsibility for training this human how to live.

And so I do what Dog was created to do. I run. I run with the wind in my nose and in my ears, without regard to where I’m going. I listen for the blue jays scolding me, the crows hoping for my early demise, the human-made big birds in the sky. I scold the big birds. Humans have no business trying to imitate another wild animal when they can’t even be the best they could be in their own puny bodies.

I plot out the scent signposts while I run... there’s a new pile of coyote scat, there’s the scent of a mountain lion who thinks she can best me, there’s the scent of that sweet young Labrador who just might be coming into season soon.

And when I’ve run long and hard, and finally feel tired, I sit. I watch the hawks play on the wind currents, with more grace than any human contraption could muster. I go on full alert when I see the cottontail raise his nose, smelling me, and wondering if I’m hungry or just in a mood to play. And I watch the packrat, who doesn’t realize how humanly he acts in gathering up all the useless items to carry back to his nest.

Sometimes, if I find a patch of warm ground, I turn round three times, and lay down, and nap. Is there anything in the world that doesn’t seem more manageable after a nice nap?

And eventually, I hear him. I hear The Man shouting my name. His attempt to mask the concern, the worry, the fear, of being without me sometimes just scares me to death. How can he be so needy?

Sometimes I think humans are confused because they have too many years. They have the illusion that they have a lot of time to figure things out, and so they spend so much time thinking. It’s sad to me that humans are burdened with such long lives, lives long enough to mourn so many things. Having to learn the wants and needs of multiple dogs or even cats. And it’s hard on us dogs. Even in our puppyhood, we have to start retraining humans who were poorly trained by other dogs. Or maybe the humans got lazy for the previous dog. Maybe the dog let them think too much, and didn’t teach them to play. It’s a rare and precious opportunity for a puppy to own a young human, before the human develops bad habits.

I trot back home, to The Man. And I hope that the dog who finds him after I’ve left this earthly existence will appreciate the lengths I’ve gone to with training this human. I know I’m not done training him yet, but I’ll do my best.

Maybe today I can train him to get the steak out of the big cold steel box. Maybe I can teach him that meat just tastes better raw. Maybe I can teach him to retrieve the sacred tennis ball.

And then I’m home. And I revel in the joy on his face, just for seeing me. Maybe The Man really is starting to understand it’s good to live in this moment. Maybe I’ll give him a little reward for that.

I guess I’m a pretty good human-trainer after all. I jump up on him, branding him with my muddy paws. And I remind him how very glad I am that he is mine.

Humans. Who can understand what goes on in their minds? But I’m glad I’ve got one. I’m glad I’ve got THIS one.

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Chop Wood, Carry Water

Fri, 5 Feb 2010 12:59:02 -0700

Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.
--Zen proverb, attributed to Wu Li

As I was carrying firewood in this morning, that proverb entered my mind... and I pondered what it means for about the 10,000th time. And I came to realize again that it means many things.

It means (to me, at least), that through our work we find enlightenment, and it means that even after enlightenment, there is work to do.

It also means that even in the mundane chores of our lives, there is meaning. The laundry, the dishes, the firewood carrying, and the carrying of buckets of water (both metaphorically and literally).

The opportunity to experience the tactile, the olfactory, the visual, the auditory aspects of life... touching that sponge, smelling the freshly ground coffee, seeing -- really seeing -- the glorious sunrise as I feed Angelo, hearing the sloshing of water in the sink when I wash my coffee cup. Through these simple chores, I am connected with all that is around me, and with those throughout the world who perform their similar chores. By being aware of my interaction with all around me through these chores, I find a little bit of inner peace.

Chop wood, carry water. I like that.

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Limitations

Thu, 4 Feb 2010 07:04:23 -0700

“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.” -- Richard Bach, in Illusions

Sometimes, the biggest obstacle to completing the Hermitage is.... me. I woke up this morning, wondering why in the heck I can’t finish building my house in 2 1/2 years. The litany of reasons began as quickly and surely as if they were a playlist on my iPod:

• I’m doing prtetty good given how little experience I have in construction
• It takes so much energy
• I’m running out of money
• I;ll do better work if I take my time
• I’m trying to help my neighbors, and that takes time
• Taking care of Angelo and Klinger and the chickens takes so much time
• and on and on

What my assumed limitations are is less important than that I see that they are limitations. I accept them sometimes. Sometimes I even embrace them. They’re a safety net of excuses. They’re permission to do less than I know I can. Maybe even permission to fail.

Why is it that we humans are so willing to deny ourselves success? We know, in our heads, that we can do it, but in our hearts, too often we are certain we don’t deserve success. Silly. Ridiculous. But far too common.

How lucky we are to have faith, friends, family, God, music, books, and whatever other tools remind us that we CAN succeed, that we SHOULD succeed.

More than 30 years ago, my friend Julie gave me my first copy of the book Illusions, by Richard Bach. Something this morning made me pull that book down from the shelf, and the book fell open to the page with the above quotation.

It was just the message I needed to get motivated again and to break through those self-defined limitations.

Isn’t it amazing that a beautiful gift from three decades ago can reach across the distance and the years, and give us a truth we need to hear? Thanks, Julie, yet again.

You can buy Illusions in hardback or in paperback, and your purchase will help fund the continued operation of the hermitblog website. Just click on the word ‘hardback’ or ‘paperback’ above. Thanks!

Want to help the Hermit keep this blog up and running? Gotta Kindle? You can subscribe to the Hermitage and have it delivered wirelessly to you wherever you are. Thinking about getting a Kindle or other cool electronic device? Click here for more details on how YOU can help...