Monday, June 1, 2015

Be Present

It's a fading memory.
Being who you really are
is a thing of the past.
We hide behind our fake image 
nylon lashes
hair extensions
acrylic nails
laser and liposuction

Maybe if we just stopped
took a breath
and embraced
what we have and 
how beautiful authentic is
we would be so much more

Custom Rope Cans

Hear With Your Heart

In Deep Red this one is called The Beirut 

I have a friend who lost his hearing 30 years ago in Beirut, Lebanon in the bombing. So I have learned some things about hearing, or the lack there of lately. If I wish to communicate with him, I must at least look directly at him, or even sometimes touch his shoulder or his arm in order to get his attention. Sometimes he has to look directly at you in order to read lips, because his hearing is not working.
My children have no excuses other than they just tune me out. They can't hear me at all, especially when we are talking about chores, homework, or something unpleasant like that.
I have perhaps learned the most about hearing though from those who can't and those who don't speak. I love my dogs, hell I love just about everyone's dogs. I am not a dog trainer, more of a dog rehabilitator. I have taken several abused and neglected dogs and got them back on their feet. The thing about them that I have learned, most of them have been yelled at, chased, threatened, beaten, neglected, ignored, abused, all by humans. The last thing you do is yell anymore. The best action is to hear what they are trying to tell you and it has nothing to do with your ears. It's body language and trust and gentleness and tenderness, and perhaps the most difficult of all, patience. I have set in my yard on my step for an hour or more, trying to get a dog to give and come to me, but unlike people, if you ever conquer that, most likely they will do it again and again. I just sent a dog to Kansas that we had had for a year. I didn't think we would ever get her to come around, but she did and letting her go to someone else and learn to trust someone other than me was hard. She is doing wonderful and the lady who has her likes her and she listened to what I told her.

When Oakley was little she would take my face in her hands and turn it so I
had to look her in the eye, "Listen to me Mama." It had nothing to do with my ears or my hearing. 

So this day I am thankful for hearing, but hear with your heart, with patience, with understanding, hear with your eyes too, for this is truly the best kind of communication. One cannot hear when your lips are flapping.
--Nelseena Lehmann

My Purse Holds Everything but the Blessed Kitchen Table

I am thankful for a kitchen, particularly the kitchen table. I am amazed at the number of younger women who can't cook, so is lost the significance of the kitchen... My sister has a sign in her house that says, "I have a kitchen because it came with the house." 

My kitchen, like my grandmother's and my mother's and all the neighbors that I grew up around is the center of attention. That's where we prayed before a meal, and we still do say Grace. I now have my Grandmother's kitchen table in my house. That's where we memorialized lost loved ones, that's where we played cards to the wee hours of the morning waiting for a heifer to calve, or the brand inspector, or the vet, or the horse shoer or the trucks. That's where Dad cleaned his guns, and where Mom kneaded bread. That's where they sold calves to the buyers, and where you drank coffee with a neighbor and cussed the economy, or the administration. 

That's where you fought with your siblings over who had to clean up, and did endless hours of homework. That's where Mom used to cut out patterns for Dad's shirts, and where the canned goods sat to cool before they went to the cellar. It's where we had the most engaging and memorable conversations. The night before my Dad died, I had judged a horse show in Terry, MT and I stopped at the folks before I went on home. Dad and I sat at their kitchen table and drank iced tea and talked for four hours. It was late when I got home, Kurt was already in bed, and I will never regret one minute of my time sitting at my folk's kitchen table. --Nelseena Lehmann