Swan Sanctuary

Some lives are extremely short and some almost miraculously long. An infant may die at birth, unable to take its first breath, after having spent nine long months in the womb. Another may die from an unexplained death when only a few months old. Parents may spend sixteen or seventeen years raising a child only to lose him in a violent car crash. Adolescent lives may be cut short from a gang related incident. 

If a person dies at any point before reaching “old age”, it is considered tragic. Even those who live well into their nineties are often tethered to the earthly plane because loved ones are unwilling to let them go. It is only in recent times that humans have come to look upon death as unfair. For centuries before, we understood that death is part of life. It was accepted that all people – in fact, all things – would eventually die. Whether a person dies of natural or unnatural causes, death is the certainty that many people have come to fear. 

It is natural to grieve and to miss someone when they are gone; but to believe that their death was wrong or that it was untimely, puts us in a state of  non-acceptance, thus causing us unnecessary suffering. The ego wants to believe that a life should be a certain way and end only when it decides that it should. A short life has served its purpose as completely as a long life. We can prolong life far beyond its purpose, but there is a price to pay. We can keep a heart pumping while the brain turns to mush. If we allow death to happen naturally and honor the  life that was lived, knowing that life is infinite, we will find greater peace. Doctors are required to write a cause of death on death certificates, but natural causes are no longer acceptable to the medical community. We will die at the appropriate time for our soul. All death is natural. Many doctors are now contributing cause of death to be due to COVID19, even when it is something entirely different. We can continue to lament what may appear to be unfair, such as a life being too short or someone being taken too soon; but we will all make our exits at the appropriate time.

Life on earth was quieter before there were acres and acres of mono-cultures. When man began planting miles and miles of corn and wheat and soy, it required machines to handle the work, rather than human workers. Human workers also had to be fed and housed. The invention of farm machinery has supposedly saved farmers a lot of money, in addition to allowing them to grow excessive amounts of a single crop. Along with these modern conveniences; however, a great price is paid – the loss of peace and quiet. No matter where you live in the world in our modern times, you cannot escape the incessant noise of machinery, automobiles, trains, and planes. 

My house sits a good half mile from  a major interstate, but when my windows are open, the hum of traffic made by summer travelers, industrial equipment, and semis, rarely stops. The drone of their engines, accompanied by the slapping of their  tires on the pavement, seems to move in waves, rising and falling…Everyday, the air is filled with the screeching of sirens added to the ever present rumble. The 80 MPH speed limit, combined with Wyoming’s infamous wind gusts, toss high profile vehicles about like plastic toys. 

I was awakened the other night by young kids running and laughing in the street only a few yards from my bedroom window. I heard a mother calling to them to come inside, but they were apparently ignoring her. At long last, I heard car doors slamming shut and the revving up of a car, which then drove away. The sounds of children playing ceased, but was soon replaced by the yapping of the small dog (or dogs) that is a nightly occurrence. Apparently, either the owners do not hear it or the incessant barking does not bother them. There are two German Shepherds across the road that also bark whenever someone walks through the alley by their property. Another dog, across the alley barks at me each morning when I go out to fill the bird bath and feeders. Dogs that live in cities and towns must be confined to prevent them from being run over by an automobile. I like dogs, but I like them most when they belong to other people, because I like the quiet more. When they are kept in yards with privacy fences, they often become neurotic because they can hear and smell other people and dogs walking by, but they cannot see them. Nearly all homes are surrounded in a mono-culture of grass. Some have added trees, shrubs, and flowers in an attempt to replicate some of nature’s beauty. Mono-cultures, whether in a farmer’s field or in a suburban lot, have created  noisy conditions in our lives. Living in town predisposes one to the ever present onslaught of noise, but to me, silence has always been golden and most of the time, it is something I can only dream of.

My second oldest granddaughter has recently obtained her driver’s permit. Her mother recently purchased a BMW, which is what she will learn to drive in. Today’s cars are much easier to learn on than those from half a century ago. They have so many whistles and bells; they are easier to maneuver and they can stop on a dime – an important feature in heavy traffic. They are extremely efficient and get better gas mileage and most importantly, they are relatively safer. 

Automatic transmissions were just becoming popular when I was learning to drive; however, my parents still had the manual style with the gear shift on the steering column. Kids these days do not have to worry about learning the art of driving with a clutch. When my daughters were learning to drive, I impressed upon them the importance of knowing how to drive cars with a clutch, in spite of the fact that their first cars were all automatic. 

After I had learned to drive in my parent’s car, which was challenging for me because the seat did not move up far enough for my short legs, I bought a Volkswagen Beetle with the gear shift on the floor. I drove cars with manual transmissions for nearly my entire life until I bought my first pickup truck about thirteen years ago. The biggest advantage to driving an automatic transmission that I can see, is that when you are stuck in traffic, you do not have to hold the clutch in endlessly. 

I am looking after my daughter’s car until she returns from active duty in the military. Her daughter (my granddaughter) was amused because I could not find the release for opening the trunk. (She is only twelve.) The computer in the console of the car shows me a picture of what is behind me whenever I am backing up. I like this feature since I cannot see out of her car as well as I can see out of my pickup and I don’t need to worry about running over another human or a dog or a cat. Regardless of how much they improve the automobile, I will always trust my own two feet the most, for taking me where I want to be.

Jackson Brown sings in The Pretender, “They say in the end, it’s the blink of an eye”. It is not so much that time seems to be flying by; it is just that life never stops. We have the ability to quiet our minds in order to fully take in the present moment, but soon that moment is gone and another takes its place. Sometimes, when I ponder the life I lived for the first twenty years, it feels like a different life – a different me altogether. In those moments, I feel as if I have been here forever. On the other hand, it seems that my life has passed me by because before I knew it, I had become a grandmother. I am now a great grandmother and that seems nearly inconceivable. 

My grandchildren appear to have grown up overnight, not unlike Jack in the Beanstalk. I cannot figure why, but it seems that the grandchildren have grown up much faster than my own children grew. All but the three youngest grandchildren (who are now twelve years old) are now driving. This definitely feels like it happened in the blink of an eye. I have failed to stop often enough to savor those moments when grace preceded and enveloped me in its warm light. Mondays became Fridays, which became Sundays, which turned into the next month, and then the next year. I now refer to the events in my life in terms of decades – decades which I am quickly running out of. I am no longer aware of becoming older. I am aware that I am entering the final chapter of my personal saga. How long or short this chapter is, is not in my hands. I will make the best of the time that remains. It does not matter if my grandchildren remember me, or if they don’t. What matters is that I do all I can today to leave the world a little nicer for them.

A recent article in The Sun (No Accident) by Kelly Daniels, concludes that contrary to common belief, it is not just drunk drivers that are responsible for the approximately 38,000 yearly deaths in the US; but cars themselves. I am inclined to agree. Automobiles, as well as guns, have changed human history in such a significant way that there is no turning back. Not only have these inventions greatly altered human life; they have redesigned the landscape itself and have  been the cause of great suffering in nearly all species that share this beautiful planet with us. 

One of my grandsons recently purchased his first car. He was quite proud of it, as any young man would be. Another granddaughter just obtained her learner’s permit. Like most kids these days, their cell phones, their clothes, and their mobility make up their priorities and the life that they know. Even if they have grown up without the strong influence of organized religion, they view the natural world often with contempt and as something foreign and separate from themselves. Soon all of my grandchildren will join the masses of drivers on the road, discarding their bicycles and skateboards for the more exciting and dangerous automobile.

I have heard talk recently about cars in the near future that will drive themselves.This new concept comes under the delusion that self-driving cars will reduce or eliminate accidents. Most likely, it will introduce a whole new bag of problems. Recall notices are not uncommon with today’s automobiles. Problems that are not detected until long after thousands of a particular model have been sold and are out on the road, must be repaired by the manufacturer. In these instances, the factory that makes the cars are responsible for the defects and resulting accidents and lawsuits. It is unrealistic to believe that self-driving cars will not have defects as well, or become the cause of accidents; which are now mostly attributed to “human error”. In reality, it is all human error.The invention of automobiles, coupled with humans whose attention is so often distracted, is a recipe for disaster. 

I, personally, do not care much for cars. My attitude has always been that whether you drive a Mercedes Benz, a beat up pickup truck, or a 1960’s VW bug, they will all get you from point A to point B. If I could, I would have a Rolls Royce driven by a chauffeur, because I do not like to drive. It is far too stressful, especially when driving in a large metropolis. Cars are now a necessary evil in our modern world. All one can do is to drive carefully and to keep an eye out for other drivers to avoid accidents. It also helps to surround oneself with light prior to driving anywhere and say a prayer for protection.

I have the use of my daughter’s car while she is deployed in Kuwait and I recently needed to take it to the dealership so that they could correct a couple of recall issues. The dealership was a little over an hour away and the service took 4 ½ hours. I wisely used the time to get some writing done, but it made me aware of just how much time people spend simply waiting. 

I do not go to medical doctors as a rule, but on those few occasions when I have, I could not help feeling that my time had been wasted, as I sat for an hour or longer on some occasions. Many people make regular visits to their doctors, the eye doctor, the dentist, the veterinarian, etc., and most likely spend a good portion of their lives sitting in waiting rooms. It seems odd when so many people congregate together in a small space, but barely acknowledge the person sitting next to them. These days, most of them have cell phones to pass their time and most waiting rooms have televisions that keep the eyes of those waiting, glued to them. Most waiting rooms have magazines, as well, and some even offer coffee and/or water. 

We wait in our cars for the light to change or for the traffic jam to clear. We wait in the checkout at the grocery store. We wait at the driver’s license bureau for our number to be called. How much time in a person’s life, does she spend waiting? This phenomena is unique to our modern life. We live our lives around this thing we call time, but that does not actually exist. We rush around and hurry hither and thither, or we wait. Some people actually live their lives in a kind of holding pattern, simply waiting for the next thing and never learn to enjoy the current moment.

My young granddaughters were born with cell phones in their hands, or so it seems. Instead of a rattle or a key ring to play with when they were babies, they were given a phone to appease their cranky moments. Technology comes so naturally to them and they presumably think I am stupid because I struggle with these things. I live in a tactile world for the most part. I am continuously in touch with earth, with water, with nature in its many forms, and with the physical world in general. Needless to say, I was seriously befuddled when my computer crashed. I have a love/hate relationship with this small device upon which my writing life has come to depend. I love the ease and speed with which I can bring my words to life on the screen and at the same time I often resent the subtlety by which it robs me of precious time. I resist what I have been told by so called experts – that I must create an “online presence” and market my self-published writing without the expertise of a literary agent.

The acceleration of our modern world is difficult to keep up with. I do my best, but it seems that just when I have mastered a new trend, something new arrives to take its place. When I learned about saving things to Google Drive, I began to do that; or I would often save things to a flash drive, but I got busy and procrastinated even though I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I should be saving copies of my writing. My old computer (which was then my new computer) had Microsoft Edge and it began saving everything that I wrote in Microsoft Office to OneDrive. I was confused about the difference between The Cloud and Google Drive and OneDrive. I did not want every single thing I wrote to be saved, and it was confusing to keep track of what was saved where, so I disabled OneDrive, but I failed to manually save to Google Drive. Since I have been writing these blogs for nearly a year now, I had begun to organize them and had started printing them out, but then my computer crashed. Since I have been so busy in my garden, I would often write things directly on the computer, rather than in long hand as I used to do. I am desperate now, to find a person who can retrieve my documents and pictures from the hard drive, so they are not lost forever. This is what I know to be another lesson in Life’s school of hard knocks. In a few year’s time, I will leave my body behind for a new adventure. At that point, it is doubtful that my words will matter much to anyone, but then they have never actually been “my” words. I am merely the conduit through which the words find expression.

I have made it a practice to look for the good in all situations and I have found a great deal of good in the home I am now living in. However, with summer in full swing it is taking some effort to ignore the tremendous noise made by the huge tractor trailers, RV’s, pickup trucks, and motorcycles that continuously pass in the street below my windows. When the windows are opened, the sound is amplified, but the fumes bother me even more. These odors, accompanied with those from lawn mowers, cigarette smokers, herbicides that have been recently sprayed, and manure from the nearby cattle ranches, are far stronger than the scents being released from the flowers and herbs growing in my garden. In these instances I am grateful for the nearly constant wind that keeps them moving.

Nature has provided us with so many delicious smells, but they are often overwhelmed by the intrusive odors of our modern lifestyles. They simply cannot compete with the manmade fumes that assault our sense of smell on a regular basis. One thing that I have never understood is how a woman can bathe in luxurious scented soaps, shampoo her hair in exotic herb infused formulas, apply perfume, use mouthwash, and then light up a cigarette. What is the point? I often wonder how insects can find the foods they need, or even find a mate, when their survival depends so much on their sense of smell. The stench of asphalt, motor oil, car exhaust, chemicals, and even dryer sheets, must certainly confuse them at times. I love brushing up next to the herbs growing in my garden so that their wonderful essence is released. Bergamot is one of my favorites along with basil and dill. I like to put my face in the middle of the agastache which smells reminiscent of anise. In a couple of months I will gather my herbs and hang them upside down from the rafter in my living room to dry. Then I will be able to enjoy their scents well into the winter. 

I do my best to prevent the unpleasant odors from disturbing my sense of tranquility and I am grateful that all I need do is walk into my garden where I can fill my lungs with nature’s sweet and intoxicating fragrances.

For the past several nights I have been forced to listen to the reeling, nerve racking noise of fireworks on the streets to the west and to the south of my house. The night of July 4th always fills me with angst and sets my nerves on edge. It is too hot to close the windows, but even if I could, it would do little to muffle the obtrusive screeches and pops and bangs of the explosives. I have a friend who detests fireworks as much as I do, for they return him in his mind to the bloody battlefields of Vietnam and another revolution in which he fought. The mother in me wants to gather up all of the dogs and cats and wildlife into my arms to shield their sensitive ears and to protect them from the insane and disturbing behavior of my human counterparts. In my experience, the fourth of July is always the worst day of the year.

We were required from our earliest school days to stand up each morning, place our hand over our heart, and recite the pledge of allegiance. Patriotism to the country we were born in is considered to be our moral duty and we are not to question this. Recent events over racism in our country is revealing the truth and exposing the lies that have been told to us. Showing our support for our country is a smokescreen for the belief that our country is right and all others are potential enemies. It creates “us” versus “them” when in truth, we are one world. War has been romanticised in our government, in movies, and even in the games that our children play. War and fighting are considered to be acts of heroism and duty for one’s country. But, war is ugly. Battle is bloody. Fighting and hatred are juvenile behaviors that should have been discarded along with pacifiers and diapers. War should not justify killing and the senseless taking of lives. 

The creation of fireworks, the sale and subsequent igniting of them, is as pointless as the battles they represent. We have come to equate the support of life and of  ideals, with fighting. Can you recall a 4th of July when there were not also numerous sirens throughout the evening? Invariably, someone is always injured, but the casualties are dismissed due to the celebratory nature of the “holiday”. When you play with fire, you risk being burned, quite literally. It is possible to celebrate our freedom and indeed it is worth celebrating; however, freedom is a god-given right and should not be something for which we have had to do battle. We can set aside this notion of war and of winners and losers. When we engage in violent acts, we are all losers. When we allow violence to overshadow us, we lose the connection to our heart and crawl into bed with the enemy.