Children of the Revolution
July 8, 2011, 3:38 pm
Filed under: The Movement

Today I got to thinking about…offspring. For lack of a better word, I suppose I think of ‘children’ as too general and non-specific. Last night I dreamt that my mother was still alive, but barely hanging on, and she had all of these crazy animal pets. There were litters of teeny tiny kittens, dogs of various ages — some of them nursing illnesses themselves, SNAKES….she even had my old bird Petrucchio (now deceased) who had mysteriously asexually spawned a baby.

Petrucchio was a real enigma; my family received him as a ‘gift’ from my uncle (more of a –take this bird before I kill it PLEASE- than gift) when I was about 10 years old. Over the years my mother and I loved him (he was a cockatiel) and taught him to sing songs and talk….but we were the only ones. Everyone else hated him. They hated the noises that he made at high decible every morning that sounded like he was repeating the mantra ‘Rape the Fuhrer Rape the Fuhrer!” over and over and over again. And –his cage made a mess, and attracted bugs, and ya da ya da ya da….but I loved him dearly and was very attached. And so when my mother died I took him, and bought him a new cage that hung from the ceiling, and he was very happy until his death about a year ago. No one could believe he lived so long. And to this day, every SINGLE day, when I pass through my living room my eyes automatically rise to the hook that his cage hung from, that now holds a lamp. I still miss him.

So this morning I rose and — naturally began thinking of what all of this crazy dream could mean to me. I understand its a composition of random thoughts that waddle through my subconscious….really, scientifically, and yet my heart still tried to find meaning in it all.

My husband and I do not have children. We have two amazing dogs and three whimsical cats and of course, the garm to tend to….and with the fusion of rational thought and scientific predestination, spawning actual human children of our own has not been in our present or future. Realizing this, in juxtaposition with the dream I had of Noah’s motley ark of nonsense, I started to think about the plan of the universe…and caretakers.

I cared for my mother through a long illness (7 1/2 years) and simultaneously my grandmother fell ill so I stepped in to help her as well. At that time I was unmarried, and I felt it was God’s will to assign me the task of caring for my elders. Once I assumed that role, it became very natural and I understood that these were my ‘children’ to foster and love through the ends of their lives, rather than the beginning. After they both passed on, I found myself a little in limbo….a little confused at which way the nurturing skills I possess were to be transferred.

This may appear to be a mishmosh of whatnot, but this morning I began to think of parents of the planet. What if your destiny is to be Mother Nature’s nanny? To use the soil as your womb to seeds that need to grow to feed your fellow species? And the animals…..that rogue dog or cat or ferret or mouse that needs all the attention and love of one person? If we did have small children to care for I do not know that Monkeyman and I would have the ability to maintain our land and our crops with the same amount of attention and detail that we do. Noticing– recognizing– that this was our destined direction was a paramount element of any success we might have in this venture. Realizing that we needed –socially -to reject the standard ‘family’ in favor of something much more unique had to be accepted.

Due to man’s abuse of the planet (and much more attention will be given to this in a later post) there is a huge decline in the bee population. This is disastrous for the growth of many plants that depend upon the bees to pollinate their flowers to propagate development. Over the last long weekend, my husband had to self -pollinate our pepper plants with a little tiny paint brush for them to flower and fruit. The amount of love, attention, and detail he pays to each one of our plants is amazing. He has found his calling; he is a proper father to the children of his garm. Each evening he stands proudly at the top stair of our deck and bellows down to his pepper bed “Look at my beautiful bells!!!! MY BEAUTIFUL BABY BELLS!”

Love is very unique. There is not a formula to mix together chemically in a laboratory; there is no recipe to follow. It’s free flowing and completely original to each individual. In our case, the ‘standard’ that society begged us to follow could not defeat the knowledge in our hearts that the universe needed us a different way. We smell it in the scented air when we walk the rows of our leaves, we feel it in the cool moist dirt of our beds, and we taste it in the fruits of our labor. There is nothing missing.


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