MY HAPPY COWS-- "Life Simplified"

I never saw a wild thing 

sorry for itself.

A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough 

without ever having felt sorry for itself.

--D.H. Lawrence

Lots of people have asked how I like Winchester, VA.  It is a great town.  In general, I have tried to explore and take advantage of some of the arts and history here. I went to the awesome little downtown area of Winchester last weekend to listen to Bill Emerson play the banjo on the Old Court House steps.  It was bluegrass music at its best.  Relaxing with a beer and good company made for a perfect evening.

Bill Emerson at the Old Court House in downtown Winchester

For someone who skipped American History (a glitch in curriculum by changing schools in high school), I know so little about the Civil War.  My grandfather, Arthur (who was a huge Civil War historian) would be very disappointed in this.  However, I am making good strides to “catch up” here in Virginia.  Mostly because there is a battlefield about every half mile where I can stop and read a little page right out of American history.  I have tried to stop and read the plaques as much as possible during the day.  

Civil War battlefield near White Post, VA

When I’m staring out over these beautiful Virginia fields, it’s hard to imagine the gruesome sights and sounds that must have occurred as men fought and died in these places.  The fields are so “at rest” now.   Most are full of wildflowers and butterflies dancing together.  Almost like the flowers and butterflies are the souls from the past shaking hands in acknowledgement of their wrongs.  One of the main reasons we are supposed to study (and appreciate) our History is so we can learn from our mistakes.  We are charged to do the same in our own lives no doubt--not just as a nation.

Beautiful barn just to left of a Virginia battlefield site

With that difficult thought in mind,  I present a most unsuspecting guide for doing so.  My “happy cows.”  

Note the little calf nursing underneath her...

Cows are some of the happiest creatures I have ever seen.  In general, doing Home Health over the past three and half years from the countryside of Camden to where I am now, I have passed LOTS of cows.  I also pass deer, horses, groundhogs, rabbits, birds and I have even seen one Black bear since getting to Virginia (he was too fast for a picture!).  

Mr. Groundhog

Buck in full velvet

Little Bambi

But all in all, it's the cows that really baffle me with their apparent level of contentment.  Most of the ones in Virginia are not dairy cows.  So that leaves...well...steak.  These cows however, are as content as any creature in the world with just a few conditions.  Their needs include: the safety of their pasture, grass to graze on (occasionally supplemented by hay), and a cool place to stand when the sun gets hot (the cows below even get two choices...shade or pond).  Every time I drive by the ones standing in the pond, their little faces all stretched out as they stand there soaking up life, I think about how content they look.  It’s in their eyes, in their walk, in the way they nuzzle each other, in the way they care for their young...even in the way they don’t look annoyed by twitching their little ears every three seconds to keep the flies away.  

They are totally happy and the negativity that may eventually be their fate does not influence their “today.”  As my quote for the day says, a wild thing never feels sorry for itself.  Today is just good to a cow.  A little grass, a little breeze, a shady spot on the Virginia country side--“life simplified.”  There is no need to worry about what may come.  And certainly no need to feel sorry for oneself.

Happy Cows soaking

I guess the lesson from my Happy Cows is this: Even though the cows bliss may (in part) be due to the lack of knowledge regarding their future--a luxury that does not come with being human--“life simplified” is possible for us too.  Though it’s easier said than done, worrying about what may come is not going to change our future one bit.  Self-pity, self-loathing, and low self-esteem over our woes in life won't help us surmount them. 

LET. IT. GO.

“If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.” ― Thomas Jefferson

One of the most common things I’ve heard so far from friends inquiring about my travels is how lucky I am to be able to have a chance to do what I am doing. 

It is true--I am. 

However, while I was on the phone with one of my dear friends today, I was quick to point out that there is a WHOLE lot I have given up to do this. For instance, I am missing my Father’s 70th birthday and a family vacation at Pawley’s Island this week. I hate that.

I have no stability in my life at all.  I won't know where I am going next until about 4 weeks before I go.  As soon as I get settled in one place, it will be off to the next place.  I miss those that I love "back home" quite a lot--and often...and pretty soon here, I will be a plane ride away from all of them.  I have to empty my own sewage, take my own trash, I have no permanent mailing address, I can only keep about 3 days of fresh food on hand, and it cost me almost $10.00 dollars every time I do laundry cause the darn dryers won't dry my clothes fully if I don't spread my clothes out into very small groups.

I think it comes down to this: I am sacrificing time with those I love for memories and experiences that will help me love them, myself, and life even more. I know I will “win some” and “lose some” in choosing to do this.  There is no doubt in my mind that, right now, I am where I am supposed to be.

Smallmouth in Roanoke

In the last two weeks, I have enjoyed an incredible weekend down in Roanoke (last weekend) fishing for smallmouth bass. I took a day hike to Natural Bridge while I was in Roanoke. This past Saturday night, good company and good food were on the menu as I ate a steak cooked to pure perfection off the open fire here at the camp ground and followed it with an old fashion s’more. Sunday, I got out to Polo for my third lesson.

Working on the "off side" approach

So I can’t feel all that deprived right now...no matter what I think I’ve given up to do this. 

One point discussed with my friend was how lucky I am NOT to have to give up my job as I travel!  I am still a therapist.  I love that part of me.  It’s the “take something that’s broken and rebuild it” part of me. The “fix it” part of me.  

All too often the “fix it” part of me spills over into the “can’t let it go” part of me. 

The little "picker"

When I was little (and to some degree now), I was a picker.  If my flesh was wounded, something about that scab seemed to get in the way of the healing process.  It was dry, dead skin and it needed to be replaced with good tissue.  So it just felt right to pull it off.  

Ironically enough, what I learned later as I became certified in Wound Care as a PT was that--though my instincts were right (a dry scab does prevent healing to some degree)--nine times out of ten the answer was not to meddle with it and pull it off.  The answer was to soften the scab so the wound bed could rise up from underneath.  

I think I’m learning that the answer for healing in our lives is often just the same.  We don’t need to meddle--it’s simply that we have to change our environment to allow for healing. We must allow our hard, dry situations to soften.  And more often than not, this simply takes time.  Letting the sun go up and go down one more day...and then another...and then another...well, this is not always easy.

My Mother has a friend that she says is very good at “floating” when life requires it.  Floating is not my style (nor my Mother’s).  We are paddlers. We like to direct our own path and hurry up and get there.  

However, the river of life can sometimes take you to a much better place if you float (not paddle). And if you fall out of your boat always follow river rule #1: Keep your toes up and your feet pointed down stream.  NEVER break the most dangerous river rule of trying to stand up when it comes to the river of life.  You have to keep moving or you will surely drown.  

And so... “if you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.”  

Well, there is a lot I’ve never done. But for today: Here’s to learning how to float.

Floating...

Technical Difficulties and Such

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes.
—Marcel Proust

First of all, I appreciate those of you who are following this adventure and all your comments.  A lot has happened since the last post that I haven't been able to write about because of "technical difficulties" with the old site.  I still have no idea what happened, but I can't post or edit from dashboard to the old site.  So this will have to be the new link.  

I'll do a big catch up blog tonight!  Thanks for following me over to the NEW Eat. Pray. Love. Work. (take two) site!

Lucy

OLD POST FROM OTHER SITE

Here are the previous ones (minus the pictures...I will try to put them back in later).

Courage

“Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.” John Wayne.

In all honesty...I am scared to death of all that is before me.

My Virginia PT license was in slight jeopardy of not being pushed through on Thursday afternoon and the heat, coupled with pushing too hard to get ready to go (not enough sleep), had me in bed for a lot of the day on Thursday.  So getting packed up and leaving by 9:30 am Saturday seemed impossible when faced with the final word from Deltaflex on Friday that my license had cleared through.   I was to be there Monday, or start week after next.  

Well, I had no choice...I couldn’t wait 11 days to start work.  So I called in for reinforcements.  There were only a few people I could call that could clean to my standards, stay up all night, and work tirelessly until I was ready to leave.  Luckily, the first one I tried, in this very uncharacteristic call for help, came to my rescue.   That would be Margaret Ellen.

Through some miracle of fate all of my important belongs got packed up and loaded onto Fran.  There was only a brief three hour nap taken by the crew, and, somehow, we managed to launch Fran as scheduled by 9:30 Saturday am.  

There was just one stop on the way up because I was scared I was going to miss getting to Candy Hill Camp ground by the 7 pm deadline (when the office would close).  I knew I would need help getting set-up and didn’t want to do it for the first time in the dark without assistance!

Pit Stop

Fran and I drove through our first thunderstorm and came out on the other side with a wonderful gift.  A full rainbow was clear across the sky out my right window and I could not help but marvel at the symbolism of such an event.

I made it to Candy Hill before 7 pm (with 15 minutes to spare...) and a wonderful man name Starr helped hook me up.  He showed me the ropes of electric hook-up and as we moved on to the water hookup he said, “Where is your water hose?”  

“Oh my...,”  I said...oops!  Yes I forgot to get that before I left.  

No worries...there was a Walmart 0.10 miles from the entrance to Candy Hill.  

“Ok, what else do I need.”  

After reviewing toilet function, gray and black water (if you don’t know the difference, you don’t want to know), I ran to Wally World to get a drinking hose.  I returned about 9:30 pm with the hose and toilet treatment system chemical. Then I began the daunting task of unpacking.  I unpacked and stowed and rearranged until about 2 am.  I had figured out that for some reason A) my auto leveling system would not work where I was parked and B) that my hot water heater was not working.  

So after a COLD shower the first night I fell into bed exhausted.  Other than the cold shower, I smiled as I drifted off to sleep that first night and I thought, “I’m doing great considering I have no idea what I am doing.”

Home Sweet Home

The next day I organized and unpacked all day.  I read the manual about a 100 times regarding hot water function and the leveling system but to no avail.  I could not figure it out.  Starr came back by to check on me around 4 pm and between the “two of us” figured out that my hot water gas had not been turned on at the source yet (since Fran was so new).  I felt as blonde as I have ever felt.

Off to work Monday and hoping my problem solving skills will improve with some rest.

The Site

07-18-12

A New Start.

The richest man is not he who has the most, but he who needs the least.

--unknown

Well, I do believe I have whittled things down to an interesting version of the bare necessities.  I have gas for cooking.  I have power for air conditioning.  No cable (and even the antenna TV doesn’t work that well from my new site--so essentially no TV...except for some weird, obscure Dutch cooking show channel).  No ability to store more than this  weeks provisions.  No mailbox. No garbage pick up.  No home address.  Just me, Duke, Murphy, and Domino.  

I have two bowls. Two plates. One coffee mug. 4 spoons, forks, and knives.

I have DO have a lot of clothes still...though (and this is not a slight to Columbia) after the realization that attending Columbia weddings was not a condition of my wardrobe anymore I was able to knock my total load way down.  

I feel like the verse “give us this day our daily bread” is very applicable.  I cannot store up more than what will feed my immediate needs.  Fran has forced me to realize what I can live without because I cannot carry more than what is absolutely necessary.  Okay, maybe my saddle, fishing rods, surf boards, 11 different hats and 2 shotguns weren’t “absolutely necessary,” but I did leave a few things at home...and one must match her hats to her outfit!

So yes, I’m technically “roughing it.”  But in some ways I’m actually in a more civilized setting than I was before.  I have to clean up after Duke--who seems to have forgotten that I once did this with him in Charleston and is mortified by the process.  I am only 0.15 miles from a Walmart. And I have access to a killer gym here.  I forgot what it was nice to workout in a state-of-the-art facility like the one I have access to now.  

"Is this necessary?"

I have successfully organized a “get to know your neighbors” gathering for Friday evening...just drinks and I plan to do some light appetizers.  

This involves the following of my direct neighbors.  First of all (enjoy the humor here), my direct neighbors to the left are Tom and Bruce.  I met Bruce out walking Duke. He was walking two chocolate labs (one of which looks like a bear and reminds me of my Aunt and Uncle's old Lab named Lucy).  When I moved to the new space and realized we would be direct neighbors we started talking about the dogs getting to know each other even better which progressed to, “What do you do for a living?”  

“I’m a traveling physical therapist.”

“I’m an occupational therapist!!!” Bruce says.  “That's my partner, Tom, coming back now”  

“Your partner....really?  That’s funny...”  It just got funnier and funnier from there.

Later, as I am talking with them both, the male chocolate lab starts barking from inside the Motorhome and Bruce bangs on the outside wall and says, “Duke--be quiet!” 

“Really!?!?  Your dog’s name is Duke?”  This is weird now.  

Shenandoah River

To my direct right are Doug and Sharon.  I haven’t talked to them as much but they are very sweet and nice.  Both in their early 60’s.

One camper down from them is Robert.  He builds the really big towers that hold power lines way up in the air and almost look like cell phone towers.  His wife and two kids are only 4 hours away.  The long hours with specific projects make it necessary for him to be able to “go to the work,” so he is used to this kind of life (being away from his family a lot).  We are the only two “long-term” campers here under 50 years old and I was thankful to be able to just chill and have a beer with him today after work and workout.

Otherwise, work is great.  My job will be almost identical to what I was doing in Camden.  My preceptor, Bryan (field trainer), is funny and easy going.  I shadowed him this afternoon and will again tomorrow all day.  This area of Virginia is just beautiful.  I will be riding around the Shenandoah River area for work and it really is beautiful and amazing scenery.  I can’t wait to see it in the fall.  

Hooked. Period. The End.

“Playing polo is like trying to play golf during an earthquake.” --Sylvester Stallone

I came to Virginia largely because of one connection and to do primarily two things with my “free time.”  One, fish for smallmouth bass.  Two, to learn how to play polo.

Matt Lattanze is an old friend from the Heathwood Hall days, and I hadn’t seen him in about 20 years until today.  Matt and I reconnected on Facebook (of course) and upon perusing his pictures I realized we were both riding.  Eventually, as I started to formulate my plans as a traveler, the notion to go spend some time playing polo up where he lived was discussed.  I promised Matt not to be too much trouble (if Dr Phil was reading this he would interject to Matt, “How’s that workin’ for ya?”), and I hope I will hold true to that promise!  

Long and short of it was--this  is why I came here.  I asked my wonderful recruiter at DeltaFlex (Will) to put me as close to Middleberg/Upperville, VA as he could.  Will probably did better than he realized.  I am only 35 minutes away from Virginia International Polo Park in Upperville.

So this is how the day went:

First, Matt touches base with me the night before and tells me I need to be on time.  “Oh Lord!” I think to myself... “Does Matt realize this is not possible with me?”

He has no idea how brilliant he sounds when he says, “Just to be safe, why don’t we meet at 9:30.”  (The lesson started at 10:00).  I was only 10 minutes late.  Voila! Someone has figured out how to get me to show up on-time! 

Part of the reason I was 10 minutes late was because the drive out to the barn was one of the most magnificent and beautiful drives I have ever taken. I kept slowing down to look at the scenery.  Everything is so green right now because of all the rain we’ve had. And the mountains, capped this morning with puffy fog clouds, looked like it must look from the inside of a pill bottle before the cotton has been removed. Mile after mile of stone walls unfolded as the hills rolled on.  I wanted so bad to stop and snap a picture of one straight down its line.  The closer I got to Upperville, the more “horsey” it got.  

How do you hold this thing?

I found Virginia International Polo Park (or VIP for short) with ease thanks to good directions from Matt the night before.  I had seen pictures on the website, but there are just some things that picture’s can’t capture or do justice.  Mountain scenery is certainly one of them.  It doesn’t matter how good your brand new Camera is.  I did buy one this weekend...a nice Nikon D-series.  More on that later...

So VIP is “full service” barn.  Which means when it was time to start Polo School my horse was handed to me all tack up and ready to go.  I was on a sweet bay mare named 7up.  Trusting she knew more than me, I let her lead the way out the practice field.  First things first...”how do you hold this thing?”

“That would be the mallet.”  Like every sport involving a ball, the object that you use to hit it is designed to hit that specific ball.  The mallet had an angle to it that allowed it to pass over the grass more easily--but only if you were holding it correctly.  Another important bit of information that was passed on in that early conversation was how to hold the mallet when it was not in use.  Like clowns in the circus balance a bunch of hammers on all their fingers, the weight of the mallet had a balance point where it felt almost weightless in your hand (held on the vertical).   

Matt was kind and patient the entire time we were out there.  He followed me around after the initial instruction was given by Juan, who was from Chile, and gave me additional pointers on weight-shift’s in the saddle and how to take a few more swings than the initial one that Juan instructed us on. We discussed some of the “rules of play” as well. It sounded complicated.  Stuff about not crossing the lines of other peoples shots.  Matt demonstrated what a severe foul  looked like (in slow motion)--basically saying you couldn’t use your horse to “T-bone” another horse/rider. He tried his best to make me take it slowly--bless his heart.  But some very nice compliments on me being a fast learner and my love of going fast on a horse coupled to have me taking shots at the trot in no time at all.

I’m thinking to myself, “My grandfather has the biggest smile on his face in heaven right now...”  And, “I was born to play this game.”  

Add caption

It was like the day I figured out being a physical therapist was the perfect combination of coaching and teaching (which was what I thought I wanted to do up until then--teach and coach in high school).  Playing polo today took one love, riding, and combined it with another, my love of team sports.  

Thank you Matt...I have successfully been injected with the “crack” of horseback riding--Polo.  

I can’t say he didn’t warn me.  He did.

About then, Juan blows the whistle to signify we are going to have a little scrimmage.  I think it took less than 2 minutes for me to get called for a foul for cutting someone off (was a lesser version of the T-boning thing Matt had told me not to do).  Oops!  I apologized for my infraction, happy that I could fall back on ignorance for a second. But when I did I heard my Father’s voice in my head, “Ignorance is no defense for breaking the law,” and I made it a point to really get the rule explained before moving on with further play.  

We played for what seemed like a good little while (45 minutes or so).  I was tired and sweating by the end but thirsty for more.  My pony had been a love.  She did everything I asked of her (and a few things I did not ask of her).  I was amazed at how much the ponies where “aware” of the game and the ball during play.  I would start her on our way one direction (like on a long shot) and she clearly would see the ball and pick up to gallop without my asking for that much speed knowing she (and therefore “we”) would be well-served to beat everyone else to the ball.  She was fast and agile, surefooted and well-behaved.  

I hugged Matt after the lesson and couldn’t contained my enthusiasm after dismounting.  He smiled with the pride that any teacher would when they see a flame of passion lit inside someone for the first time.  He was gracious in his compliments of my first effort and landed the “quote of the day” when he said, “You blew my mind but we gotta work on the rules a little bit.”  My family howled in laughter as I shared that one with them.

(to be continued...)