Category: Faith

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Gratitude

Technical Difficulties

Lisa Burbank

This morning I finished my yoga practice and jumped in the chair behind the PC, intent on adding a new blog post. Lo and behold, Hewlett-Packard had different ideas. My PC was midway into a major update from Windows 8 to Windows 10 (not sure what happened to Windows 9…) so I sat here reading a booklet that I found while organizing the office last week that deals with being more assertive. There’s no cover page so I don’t know the actual title or author but it was an interesting read while I munched a couple of slices of whole grain toast slathered with peanut butter. (What 20 lbs. by Nov. 20th???)

One thing that stuck out for me was a passage that read: “Some [people] are unconcerned whether you agree with them and share their views. Others are rabid in demanding that you fall in line with them. They feel that they know best and this gives them the authority to tell everyone what they should be doing and saying. It is their way or the highway.” (Anonymous) I think we all know a few people with this mindset; having been afflicted by alcoholism and abuse as a child, I, too, can get on my high horse about certain subjects. It is learned behavior. And this is where that Al-Anon slogan of “Live and Let Live” comes into play. I don’t have all the answers and neither does anyone else; we can only do the best we can with what we have…and allow others the same courtesy. However, this is where the term “boundaries” comes into play…and the need to assert those boundaries.

The booklet goes on to talk about how women, especially (though not confined to women; just more common), tend to be people-pleasers. Old-fashioned values passed down from previous generations instill in us a belief that standing up for ourselves is unladylike, unfeminine. And then we wonder why we keep finding the same situations over and again: being over-whelmed by too many responsibilities/social engagements or commitments; being passed over for better job positions, or lower pay scales; or finding the same abusive and/or controlling partners ad nauseum.

Some of this is simply that innate desire to be loved and accepted. We want to fit in so we say “yes” to every request made of us; we give in to keep the peace; we give–because it is better than receiving, or so we are told–and we give and we give until, like that old children’s story about the giving tree, there is nothing left to give…except maybe the built-up resentment and anger that stifling our own needs–and even our core values–has developed. In seeking to please others and neglecting our own needs, we actually give others an unspoken permission to treat us as doormats; to ridicule us; to continue to assert their “control” over us. In short, we allow unacceptable behavior. And, as a result of this tolerance of unacceptable behavior, that anger and resentment eventually spills over until we resort to some unacceptable behavior of our own.

Boundaries. This one is a tough one for me. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Frequent, violent arguments often made sleep impossible and left a little girl quaking in her shoes. The one time I remember standing up for myself was when I was around 17. It was over a chair that my stepfather had picked up at a yard sale to replace the old rocking chair my mother had reupholstered for me years before. The rocking chair went hurtling across the floor and Mom barely managed to stop the incessant stomping that would have reduced it to smithereens in another moment. My assertion was simply to suggest couldn’t we put the new chair in the living room instead of my room (which was only, roughly, 10 x 8)? Today, I can understand that this was not an unreasonable request but, the reaction to that request, set a precedent that my feelings, thoughts, opinions had no value and, in fact, asserting myself might bring about some serious consequences. This is a little extreme but even those from unbroken homes often struggle with asserting themselves. What good is it to establish healthy boundaries if you don’t maintain them? Saying “no” is not a bad thing. It doesn’t necessarily mean “never”, just “not right now”. Or it means I find this behavior unacceptable and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore. Setting boundaries, and asserting yourself to maintain those boundaries, says that your time, your money, your health and well-being are all valuable and important–as is the time/money/health, etc. of others. Setting boundaries is not the same as building walls; setting boundaries doesn’t shut everyone out–and isolate you in; they simply provide guidelines for protecting yourself. Boundaries are a way of saying “No” with love rather than the hostility that characterizes aggression. Aggression builds walls. Aggression threatens and tries to manipulate others. Boundaries protect you from that aggression.

After over 20 years of therapy, I am learning–finally–to set some boundaries and also, to assert myself in maintaining those boundaries. I’m also learning that sometimes the people closest to you do not like this sudden change from the church mouse mentality to, well, not exactly the lion ready to roar, but at least the cat who stoically goes their own way regardless. I have a mind of my own. And, while I strive to respect the feelings and views of others, I am also striving to have my own feelings and views respected–even if those views are not shared. I recently had someone give me an ultimatum because I did not share their views about something. Ultimatums are unfair under almost any circumstance–unless you’re a soldier or police officer giving someone the ultimatum to come out with their hands up. For once, I stood up to this unacceptable behavior because to give in to it would go against some pretty solid principles. I did my best to maintain calm and simply stated my feelings, and that I was not going to conform to what they expected me to do. It didn’t go over well but I expected it. It hurts. Talk about reinforcing some negative, learned behavior but I also know that my standing up to this negativity is much healthier than any conformity to another’s expectations. Though it hurts, in some ways, taking that stand has also been liberating. The outcome of my being assertive may not have been the one I was hoping for, the intent misunderstood, but I realized my own worth. The little girl is no longer quaking in her shoes.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animal Rights, Animals, Environment, Faith, Homesteading, Nature, Spirituality

For the Birds

Lisa Burbank

Many years ago, when I bought the present homestead, there was a bird feeding station outside the double windows over the kitchen sink. The previous owners of the property had set it up and I continued the tradition. Bird feeding–and watching–has always been a favorite pastime. I remember my paternal grandfather keeping a feeder in the backyard as well as a birdbath for his avian friends. It is a lovely sight each morning to see the variety of feathered friends zooming in and out for their daily sustenance. No matter how tired, depressed, sad or lonely I may be feeling (eh, we all have those feelings once in awhile…), the sight of their aerial antics lift me up. Sometimes I wonder if that old wives’ tale is true about them being God’s messengers–like little fluttering angels in disguise; it would seem so at times.

Of course, when I first moved in, that variety had me stymied a bit. I could recognize the mourning doves, the cardinals, robins, sparrows and the chickadees but what was that little gray bird with the crest? What about that black bird with the brown cap? And that little yellow guy is adorable but I haven’t a clue what kind of bird he is. So I bought a Peterson’s Field Guide for Eastern Birds. This book has received a lot of use.

Today, I can easily identify the titmouse, cowbird and finch (respectively, from the above paragraph). I also delight in the nuthatches, the starlings, woodpeckers, hummingbirds, and the occasional oddity. This can be a unique bird that’s come to visit or else a non-avian visitor. Toads, chipmunks, squirrels, and baby bunnies all come to dine from time to time. Of course, last week Mom and I entertained a visitor of another sort that, while not entirely unwelcome, did leave behind an unpleasant aroma. We see larger friends, too: deer, wild turkeys, the occasional fox or hawk.

Despite the noisy Interstate that runs almost through the front yard, it is particularly gratifying to know that this lonely, little acre provides a safe-haven for so many creatures. If I stay, there are plans to develop some wildlife habitats here–above and beyond the bird feeders–in the form of native plant gardens as well as bird gardens that provide food for our avian friends. I’ve added birdhouses over the years; every spring new birds are born here, providing a gift beyond measure. With so much natural habitat being destroyed by over-development–especially in northeastern Connecticut–it is important to provide a few oases in the midst of such chaos. We share this earth with so many beautiful–and sometimes not so beautiful but equally important–species; it seems selfish to the extreme to keep taking without giving back. God made all creatures. Not for us to exploit or destroy, but to share this great planet with in harmony.

If I relocate? A wildlife habitat will be created in the new digs; it’s a plan that can be readily implemented but I do worry about the creatures here, especially with so many properties on this Interstate being sold as commercial. This is a fixer-upper. There’s no doubt in my mind that, if I sold, it would be bulldozed down to make way for some sort of strip mall. And then where would these creatures go?

In the meantime, I watch their daily flight in for their breakfast. I delight in the occasional friend who finds shelter from the storm either in one of the birdhouses or else in one of my feeders (one has a rooftop). And I pray that, whatever choice I eventually make, my feathered friends will still find their oasis.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Peterson, R. T. Peterson Field Guides: Eastern Birds, 4th Edition. Houghton Miffler: 1984.

Abuse, Alcoholism, Animals, Creativity, Faith, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Nature, Organic, Religion, Spirituality, Writing

Is it Wasted Time or Time Well-Spent?

Lisa Burbank

I have spent the better part of this morning searching through a directory of towns in Maine for a list of towns with the least amount of population. I’m looking for unorganized townships with less than 500 people. Next, will be to research their locations. If I decide to relocate, I would prefer being near the ocean. Not necessarily a waterfront property; they tend to be grossly over-priced, but I would like to be within shouting distance of the ocean…or a lake. Somewhere that I can plunk a canoe down in the water and paddle away. Is that possible with goats in tow (not in the canoe but farming in a coastal region)? Or are coastal towns all zoned into tourist trap submission? These are things I am hoping to find out. The mingled scents of clean farm animals and salty sea air would be the sweetest perfumes. And the cry of a gull amidst a chorus of bleats and neighs and cock-a-doodle-doo, the sweetest of songs. This will be my paradise here on earth. If I can find it. And if I can afford it when I do.

As I type this I am also thinking of all the improvements I’d like to make here on this little one-acre homestead in northeastern Connecticut. Being influenced by the folks at Path to Freedom (please Google for more information) in knowing that it is possible to have a sustainable homestead on a smaller piece of land–i.e. quoting Jules Dervaes in their excellent film, “Homegrown Revolution”, I decided years ago to “start with what I have”. But I worry about things like carbon monoxide from Route 6 settling on my herbs and vegetables, and the increased development of this Quiet Corner town. It’s becoming too commercial and yet the job market is scarce, public transport is so poorly planned as to be almost non-existent, and, despite being on this main Interstate, I feel like an island unto myself anyway. There is little by way of a “community” feeling.

Of course, I do little to encourage that community feeling. My yard is always overgrown. When someone knocks at the door, I seldom answer–unless I’m expecting someone. And I walk around with the feeling that I’m sitting in a fish bowl. The Thujas bordering the front of the house offer a great privacy screen but it is not enough; I’m that eternal hermit-in-the-woods. Not exactly the most encouraging attitude for an ordained minister but I crave solitude like the flowers crave sun and rain. It’s one of the reasons I’ve had such a difficult time adjusting to having a roommate–even though that roommate is Mom.

Whine, whine, whine…

Or maybe that should be wine, wine, WINE!

No, I seldom partake of the latter. Having felt the effects of alcoholism many times as a child–from watching a beloved grandfather vomiting blood each morning, and losing him all too early, to a stepfather’s drunken rampages and pedophilia–I’ll take the fruit of the vine in the form of some organic grape juice instead. (Albeit, I wouldn’t say, “No!” to a wee drop of mead though…)

As for the whining? The best remedy is gratitude. No, I am not where I really want to be. And I am feeling the shifts everywhere in my life right now, shifts that say change is coming and it is time to move on, move forward, get out of this rut that I’ve been “stuck” in for the last several years. Despite my hermit-in-the-woods mentality–which is another side effect of having grown up with alcoholism–I do desire that sense of community, that sense of connection with others. But I also want that oasis in the middle of it all, that place of quiet retreat where I can recharge my batteries–literally and figuratively speaking. We all need that.

So, as I draw a ragged deep breath and prepare to send Wendy Whiner on her way again, I make a short list of all of things I am grateful for right here and now:

I am grateful for the air I breathe, the water I drink, a roof overhead, the food on my plate and the clothes on my back.
I am grateful for my roommate, my Mom; grateful that I am fortunate enough to still have my Mom with me.
I am grateful for family and friends, my community of loved ones–whether they live in this Quiet Corner or not.
I am grateful for all of the myriad animals that share this home with me–both domestic and wild.
I am grateful for the gifts from God of being able to write, sing, play music, paint, draw, create and homestead.
I am grateful for my job, for being employed, and for the wonderful co-workers who share that part of my week with me.
I am grateful for my garden, for the herbs, fruits and vegetables growing there.

And I am grateful, most of all, for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who died for my sins and gave me everlasting life.

Now what the heck was I whining about?

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

“Homegrown Revolution Quotes.” Quotes.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2016. Web. 22 Sep. 2016 .

Faith, Gratitude

Road Trip

Lisa Burbank

Every April, my friend, Karen, and I take a road trip to the Connecticut Sheep and Wool Festival in Tolland, Connecticut; it is tradition, and one that both of us look forward to greatly. Sometimes it is just the two of us; now that Mom is living with me, she comes along, too. And there’s always room for more. This past April it was my friend, Heather, who volunteered with me at Old Sturbridge Village, and her friend, Lisa. In previous years, other friends have joined us. And it is always a good time.

I love all things fiber; albeit, I like creating fibers best: spinning and weaving, though I only know the rudiments at present. Whether spinning or weaving, once you get the feel for spinning yarn or the rhythm of the shuttle when weaving, “The Zone” takes over and you go into that happy place. It’s as good as any meditation practice I’ve ever experienced.

At the CT Sheep and Wool Festival it is not so much a sheepdog trial but simply a demonstration of how Border collies herd and little bits of advice in regard to their training and care. It doesn’t matter. This is the highlight of the CT Sheep and Wool Festival for me. To me, watching these dogs herd is like watching poetry in motion, and I am working towards that day when I have my own flock of sheep and a pair of Border Collies to enter into some competitions myself. That day may be a long way off; I’m still on the fence about whether to sell this property and relocate, or to stay and relinquish this dream of sheep herding. As it is a little itch that refuses to be scratched and is growing ever larger, I think everyone can guess which decision I’m leaning towards.

However, that’s neither here nor there.

The Connecticut Sheep and Wool Festival is the spring road trip. I didn’t think I had a fall one until earlier this week when Mom asked about going to Salem again. Last year, Mom & I, my cousin, Amanda, and several of my aunts, traveled to Salem, Massachusetts a week before Halloween. While it was wonderful sharing the day with so many loved ones, a missed exit, over-crowded parking lots and numerous blocked roads made for a rather stressful event. By the time we found parking–and each other, as we traveled caravan-style with multiple vehicles–nearly everything was closing, which was a disappointment. It was also freezing by the harbor and we visited the local gift shops, not for souvenirs, but for gloves, hats and extra sweatshirts at inflated, tourist-trapping prices. It seemed we no sooner arrived then we were making the long trek back home again.

This year, with the family splintered again, there will likely be fewer going; it saddens me. I love every member of my family and I hate the thought of anyone being left out–even by their own choice. But I have to respect that choice. And, more, I have to respect my own, knowing my own heart and why I made the choice that I did. A recent meeting with Father Elson helped center me. He advised not to burn the bridge, but to let everyone know it is there, and that all are welcome to cross over at any time as we are all one blood, one family–Christ’s family. In short, don’t isolate anyone. Don’t give up on anyone. Let them know you love them, but the choice is theirs if they would be part of your life–and each other’s; it’s not something I can control as, in doing so, I risk greater injury to all. So, I use my blog posting today to do just that…extend that invitation to cross over the bridge. And, in the meantime, I set my sights on enjoying a beautiful day in Salem and what may be a magickal new tradition.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Religion, Spirituality

Letting It Go…to God

Lisa Burbank

I am distracted. And struggling not to be. Yes, it is 6:14 in the morning. Yoga, meditation, affirmations, some fictional writing and journaling have already been attended to but I’m losing focus. It makes me realize just how much time is truly wasted with drama.

Mom hit me with some family drama the moment I came in the door from work last night. We had a lovely day Saturday celebrating my Uncle Ernie’s birthday at his home on the lake. We chatted with family and friends, did some catching up here and there. I spent some time on the water, boating, with my Aunt Sharon and Cousin Jenny. And then we came home. Though lies, petty jealousies and childish attitudes have caused some recent splintering in this already fragile dynamic, there was little evidence of this at the cookout. Albeit, fewer faces of loved ones shared the day with us–and they were missed–but everyone in attendance mingled amiably, ate a lot of good food (so much for my 20 lbs by Nov. 20th…), and the gossip and drama appeared to be non-existent. Until yesterday. Apparently, one of my cousins seems bent on keeping the feuds going, posting some rather hurtful remarks on Facebook. I’m not sure why. And I’m not sure I want to know why anyone would get their rocks off of hurting their own flesh and blood; that sort of meanness is just something I can’t wrap my mind around. And, again, I don’t want to. Abuse, no matter what form it takes, is unacceptable.

Of course, this is all hearsay; Mom may have edited a bit to try to keep peace, as I know how deeply hurt she was when the family splintered apart after my grandmother’s passing in 1990. I usually avoid the ongoing dramas…especially on Facebook, where everyone suddenly finds the courage to say things to others they would never have the courage to say face-to-face. While I love many things about the Internet and social media, the use of it as a tool for hurting others is one facet of it I don’t like.

I’m Switzerland. I don’t see “sides”. There is no one member better than I am (or each other) nor do I consider myself better than anyone else; we are all the same in His eyes–and in mine. And there are more important things to worry about than he said/she said. My maternal grandparents had 11 children, 8 of whom are still with us. And, while we may often resemble the Hatfields and McCoys, there isn’t a single member of this family that I don’t love deeply. I may not always like the way they act, but I love them anyway. And yet, becoming that proverbial hermit-in-the-woods is pretty appealing at this point. There are times when I get so frustrated with everyone, it’s all I can do to keep from wanting to sit each family member in a separate corner for timeout so they can get their foolishness under control. This is not at all the way my grandmother raised them to be and yet they continue to dishonor her memory by creating these “sides”. My grandmother’s grave has weeds growing on it. There is an old wives’ tale that this is a sign the person is not resting in peace. I can’t imagine why…

I also can’t imagine that this is God’s plan for this family, that we should fight and bicker and throw hurtful comments back and forth. Yes, I know the old kiddie refrain of “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” That’s not entirely true. Words cut into the soul; sticks and stones only hurt the flesh.

Sitting back and observing, as only a writer can, it seems as this family tries to get back together–or, if we must put this in past-tense–when the family was trying to get back together, various members came back expecting others to have changed, to be different people than the ones they shied away from before. Yes, people can change. But I am reminded of something in my Al-Anon daily reader, “Courage to Change”, about how we expect others to act the way we want them to and then get angry with them when they act on their own. I’m paraphrasing but it is by-product of alcoholism, wanting to control each other, and having unrealistic expectations. No, neither grandparent was an alcoholic (nor, to my knowledge, is any aunt, uncle or cousin) but both great-grandfathers had a reputation for alcoholism. A. It can skip a generation and B. the coping behaviors learned by one generation often get handed down to another because there’s been no one teaching them a better, more respectful way of treating one another–and ourselves. As one of my best friend’s mother phrased it, “You can only work with the tools you’ve been given.” Yes, there are deeper issues behind the family feuds, but alcoholism lies at the root–the root that prevents the type of communication needed for healing to begin. (Denial is another symptom of alcoholism…)

I grew up in an active alcoholic home. My step-father drank heavily and was a violent man when he drank; he fit most of the stereotypical images of the flaming alcoholic. But alcoholism is often more subtle than that. Growing up with active alcoholism, you learn to keep your thoughts and your feelings to yourself. You don’t want to trigger another temper tantrum in the alcoholic nor do you want to be ridiculed or told you’re stupid for your views. This lack of communication, if left alone, often gets perpetuated through the next generation in a family. How can it not if speaking your mind brought on a string of repercussions? The only difference is, that because there is no visible, active alcoholism in the home in this next generation, it is easy to deny the effects, to be unable to recognize them for what they are. Lying, poking one’s nose in everyone else’s affairs, refusing to take responsibility for one’s actions, placing blame, denial, being overly sensitive, sarcasm, lack of trust, low self-esteem and blowing everything out of proportion are all side effects of alcoholism. There’s a reason why both AA and Al-Anon ask us to admit that our lives have become “unmanageable”; they have. How can this sort of behavior be manageable? And, as I type this, I think of how there is a small part of me that is still feeling the effects of my own alcoholic upbringing: I so want to call that “timeout” I mentioned earlier and “force” everyone to get along, but that would only do more harm than good. And that is not my right. So I leave it in the hands of the only One who can heal it, heal each individual, and lead them either closer together, by making all feel welcome and appreciated as is…or allowing those who have been perpetually wounded too deeply to go their own way so that no further abuse or ostracism can be meted out upon them.

Acceptance is where the healing begins. Acceptance that sometimes families are just not capable of being like The Waltons or The Brady Bunch; that is fiction and, while we love it, we cannot write the script or direct the actions of all the players when it comes to real life. Sometimes, though we share blood, we speak totally different languages. And that’s okay…as long as those different languages aren’t used to hurt and abuse each other. When the abuse exists, there’s every right to step away.

Forgiveness is the other starting point. Forgiveness isn’t about condoning another’s conduct. And it doesn’t mean you have to go back into the hornet’s nest and endure more pain and abuse; “family” is who you choose to care for, and that may not necessarily mean “blood”. Forgiveness is about the person, not the act. And forgiveness is for yourself, for your own soul. Matthew 6:14: “Your heavenly Father will forgive you if you forgive those who sin against you; but if you refuse to forgive them, he will not forgive you.” (The Living Bible)

I don’t know where He is leading this family. Again, I am Switzerland. Nobody has the right to bully another, whether by making them feel uncomfortable, placing words in another’s mouth, or by threatening to withhold their love and friendship for associating with “the other side”; there are no sides. And I had enough of walking on eggshells as a child. I am a child of God as is everyone else on this planet, whatever you perceive Him/Her to be. God did not create us to be perfect. He asks only that we love Him with all of our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies; and that we love our neighbors as ourselves. If everyone in this family can remember that, maybe we’ve still got a fighting chance…no pun intended.

May God bless you & keep you!

Faith, Gratitude, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Nature, Organic

Friday’s Flora and Fauna: Chamomile

Lisa Burbank

Chamomile (Matricaria recutita) has been a staple on this homestead for many years. Diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome in my early 20’s, chamomile quickly became a valued friend. It is an effective carminative and considered by many herbalists to be specific for any and all digestive complaints. In fact, it has been proven to be “a good remedy for a number of diseases ranging from the common cold and flu to digestive disorders, diarrhea, menstrual cramps, nervousness and insomnia” (Tierra 110) During my herbal apprenticeship with Michael Ford and Joanne Pacheco of Apollo Herbs in Lincoln, Rhode Island, I came up with what I call my “Digest Tea” as a part of my herbal roadshow–the practical half of our final exam where we actually used herbs to make certain medicines, health and beauty aids and/or herbal products. Chamomile was the main ingredient. I’ve been making this tea on a regular basis for almost 9 years. Yes, it is a very effective tea for someone with digestive complaints, but chamomile also tastes good; not at all like a “medicine”.

I also suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Again, chamomile, with its nervine and calmative properties is the herb of choice. I don’t think it has ever made me so drowsy that I’m a threat to society behind the wheel of a car–but I’ve also never put it to the test and, with tongue in cheek, would advise: DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE! Instead, it is best enjoyed sitting by the fire on a cold winter’s night or else curled up in bed just before bedtime with a good book.

The aforementioned uses for chamomile are fairly common–even for those not as familiar with herbs. Quite a number of commercial tea manufacturers/distributors have a Sleepy Time Tea (or an equivalent) and, again, chamomile tends to be the main ingredient. However, a recent reading in James Duke’s “The Green Pharmacy” brought to light another effective use for chamomile–one that is proving timely for me.

Every summer my legs break out in this itching, burning rash. It is more of a nuisance than anything else, but I refuse to wear shorts or short skirts outside of the house even in the hottest temps because of its unsightliness. It almost looks like poison ivy but a.) I’m one of those weirdos that usually doesn’t react to poison ivy and b.) in this infernal heatwave that I’ve been complaining about ad nauseum in previous posts, I’m not doing anything to come into contact with poison ivy. It seems most prevalent behind the knees, and around the ankles and feet. Many years ago my doctor gave it a name but it escapes me. However, it is a dermatological reaction caused by the sap from weeds and tall grasses when weed whacking. Another electric weed whacker died earlier in the summer; this rash, once it erupts, stays most of the season. Anyway, I have tried everything–both common anti-itch methods such as hydro-cortisone creams and Calamine lotion to holistic approaches such as a spearmint leaf decoction, which works great for poison ivy rashes but, apparently, not any other kind of foliage-based rashes.

Anyway, in “The Green Pharmacy”, James Duke writes “Aromatherapists, especially in Europe, recommend massaging with camomile preparations to treat skin allergies such as hives and itching”. Yesterday I was desperate. This rash is extremely itchy and I have all of the self-control of a 5 year-old child. If it itches, I scratch it (don’t go there…). I know it doesn’t help the unsightliness of my legs to have bloody runnels everywhere but that is the usual effect after a good scratching. So I decided to give chamomile a try. I brewed a standard infusion of chamomile (1 tablespoon of dried chamomile leaves and flowers in a cup of hot water (turn off the heat just before the water comes to a full boil; boiling water may destroy some of the healing properties of the herb); cover, and allow to steep for 20 minutes) and, after it had cooled, dipped a cotton ball in it and began bathing my legs with it.

Almost instant relief. It was amazing. Of course, I also took a bath in Epsom salt prior to the application and I’m sure that had a hand in helping, too. But it was the chamomile that seemed to provide the most soothing relief. Within moments there was a visible reduction in inflammation. It was wonderful. And I am so grateful that He led me to this passage in James Duke’s book; it is truly a godsend. Like any other treatment, you will need to re-apply it. It stayed with me for about 5 hours and then a few of the worse areas started itching again–not quite as bad as before the first application but enough that it was time to re-apply.

Hopefully, this will help others in a similar situation. I do need to add a few words of caution: chamomile is a member of the ragweed family. If you have a sensitivity with ragweed, you may want to proceed with caution before using chamomile, especially taking it internally. If using it topically, apply the chamomile infusion in your bathroom where there is a shower or faucet where you may quickly wash it off. As with all things, seek professional medical attention if the rash gets worse.

These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This presentation is intended for informational purposes only; it is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease, nor be taken as medical advice.

Works Cited

Duke, J. The Green Pharmacy: The Ultimate Compendium of Natural Remedies from the World’s Foremost
Authority on Healing Herbs. Rodale Press, PA: 1997.

Tierra, M. The Way of Herbs. Simon & Schuster, Inc, New York: 1998.

Alcoholism, Environment, Faith, Frugality, Gratitude, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nature, Zero Waste

Tightwad Tuesday

Lisa Burbank

I think I created a post a couple of years back about frugality but it bears repeating. We live in a culture where everything bigger, or more of something, is better. It is natural to want more in life. But when so many people are in debt up to their ears because they have far too many credit cards; they allowed that real estate agent to up-sale them into a house they couldn’t afford or, I cringe as I type this as I work for a car dealership, but up-sales are a part of that world, too. As their photographer, I spend a good part of the afternoon driving around the parking lot in brand new cars–I don’t even own a car right now! So put me in the seat of that Silverado High Country–and, believe me, “my” dealership has some sweet trucks in their lot right now–and I’m practically salivating…and this summer’s 90+ temperatures have nothing to do with it. However, I’m already eating a lot of pasta and beans, and PB&J for lunch; I refuse to take the Crazy Cat Lady a step further and start dining with the felines as, sadly, many do. And no, that real estate agent or salesperson isn’t inherently evil in trying to up-sale you a higher-priced item. A bigger sale means a bigger commission and they have to eat, too. Without those commissions, they’re barely scraping minimum wage. But keeping your head instead of letting emotion drive your decisions is a discipline worth learning. The salesperson will still earn a commission on the item you can afford but you won’t be re-mortgaging or filing bankruptcy later on. Take it from one who knows: debt hurts.

Years ago, a gentleman that I was dating made a good point about something. He was incredibly frugal about his necessary living expenses: housing, food, utilities and yet he indulged in extravagances. But, as he pointed out, because he conserved so well on the essentials–and he didn’t starve or freeze during the winter months; quite the contrary, he had updated his home to be super energy efficient and so it stayed toasty warm all season–he could afford a few luxuries. He could indulge in many of his interests. And so, he actually lived a bit better than most because he was careful with his expenses and, when he made an investment, he did so with the future in mind. He also tithed regularly, had a healthy retirement fund and a savings. These last three are key. Without some sort of savings, you automatically have to go into debt when something breaks or needs replacing. Without a retirement or 401K, what will you do when you grow too old and infirm to work 40+ hours a week? And He only asks for a tithe = 10%; you get to keep 90%.

Of course, Super Tightwad here–and, no, that doesn’t equal “cheap”; your birthday gift may have been purchased on sale but it didn’t come out of the gumball machine–weighs everything. Whether it is a necessity or an indulgence, I carefully weigh it. I’ve been known to take field trips to the supermarket to price all of the fixings for a veggie burger at Burger King (i.e. condiments, lettuce, tomato, etc) vs. one made at home with all of the trim; the cost was nearly doubled. When you realize what you’re really spending, how convenient is it? I know I’ve posted before that Amy Dacyczyn’s “Tightwad Gazette” is one of my secular bibles. When I first started reading it, the first thing that happened was she changed my mind about how I viewed frugality. I grew up in a home with a very modest income. Of course, my stepfather’s penchant for the bottle had a lot to do with our financial status and there was as much shame attached to his behavior as there was to the hand-me-downs and goodwill visits. In the “Tightwad Gazette”, however, Ms. Dacyczyn points out how, for example, we buy brand new clothes and, within a few months to a year, we either relegate them to the back of the closet where they never see the light of day again or we discard them. In fact, discarded clothing makes up a large bulk of our landfills so overcoming even this one fetish for the latest fashions would solve another problem in our society. She relates a story about buying a pair of boots second-hand for her daughter. They were the right brand but the color was “wrong”. Well, her daughter wore them to school, despite the “wrong” color, and came home raving about how everyone loved the boots in this unique color. I am not at all ashamed to admit that when I decide I “need” a new skirt or blouse, I shop at the thrift store FIRST (intimate apparel and shoes are the exceptions). It’s all about perception. If you can look at frugality as a skill, an art, maybe even as something fun–a game to be played in the marketplace, it takes away the stigma our society has attached to thrift. And who doesn’t love a few extra dollars in their pocket?

Maybe it is natural to want more. I’m thinking that’s just another myth we’ve been brainwashed by our media to believe. I know I quote HGTV a lot but they are a good example of the societal mindset. In my not-so-humble opinion, nobody needs 5000 square feet of living space unless your last name is Duggar and you’ve got 19+ kids in tow. Even then, I would question it. You see a lot of waste on HGTV, a lot of spoiled, superficial people (or seemingly so) who have to rip out the “dated” kitchen and replace everything. Okay. Maybe the refrigerator is old and inefficient. That would make sense. But a coat of paint on the cabinets would give the room a fresh, new look without sending a lot of composites and laminates to the landfills…or without emptying your wallet. I also quote tiny houses a lot. No, not everyone could live in a space 400 square feet or less, but they do provide some great examples of how to maximize living space so that maybe 1000 square feet instead of the 3000 square-foot McMansion will suffice–without one feeling deprived. The tiny house movement forces us to look at life from the perspective of “what do we need” vs. “how fast can I keep up with the jones'”? And, as they quote a few tiny house builders and/or buyers in their advertisements, the mindset is to save more on the cost of living so you can afford to live life–to spend more quality time with family and friends rather than in the office working overtime to pay for the 3000 square feet; to get outdoors and spend more time in nature; to spend more time playing sports, attending concerts or going to the theatre–whatever your passion. When you look at how much you sacrifice in memories, in good health and happy, relaxing experiences, the cost goes even higher.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Dacyczyn, A. The Tightwad Gazette. Villard Books, New York: 1993.

Animal Rights, Environment, Faith, Frugality, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nature, Organic, Yoga & Fitness, Zero Waste

Motivation

Lisa Burbank

The antithesis of motivation is avoidance. I have been sitting here for over 1/2 hour going through unimportant emails–the Linked In connection prompts; advertisements from certain companies/organizations I’ve been in touch with in the past; coupons that I probably won’t use, etc. One of my new textbooks touches on this, that as writers, we often tend to avoid writing. I suppose it’s not so very different from any other passion or skill. How many students of piano lessons avoid practicing? Or runners/joggers become “lazy” and stay in on that chilly winter morning? The textbook says to write anyway and that writer’s block doesn’t really exist, that it’s “a fabrication, an excuse that allows you to ignore the problem you’re having with your story” (Dufresne 22). My problem this morning is the blank slate that is my mind for the moment. But, amazingly, as I finally discipline myself enough to log into Word Press and start writing, the creative juices start flowing again.

Writers also love to read. This morning, while still in avoidance mode, I pulled a favored book off of the shelf. Favored but only read once; I’m not even sure why “only once”. So I’ve decided it’s time to read it again. If for no other reason, inspiration. The book is “One Woman Farm” by Jenna Woginrich. And it was the title that caught my eye in the first place. I happened across it in a catalog from a book club I used to belong to. Ms. Woginrich could be my long-lost sister. The pages of this book echo my dream life with very few exceptions. Ms. Woginrich raises sheep, goats, pigs, chickens, geese (I have ducks but geese are on the radar…as are the sheep), honeybees, and, when this book was written, she had just started training her first Border Collie to herd. I have avowed not to get another dog until I am ready to get sheep (which will require a bigger farm with more acreage than I currently possess…) because I want to train and work with Border Collies. “Babe” is my favorite movie and every event that I attend, be it a fair or a festival, if there are sheepdog trials or demos, I am there. My fascination with this never abates. Ms. Woginrich also grows all of her own vegetables and fruits; I’m not quite there yet but every year sees a little further expansion. This year it was the perennials: blueberries, rhubarb and asparagus. And she cans/preserves what she grows. I love doing both. No mention of herbs or making tinctures, etc. nor do I recall anything about spinning and weaving, but she’s also a musician; albeit, her instrument of choice is the fiddle; mine, the guitar and Appalachian dulcimer. Suddenly, I don’t feel quite as alone in the world.

As a homesteader, there are times when I feel like the very odd duck because most people do not seem to understand why I do what I do. I’ve heard comments about why do I want life to be so hard? Sorry. I don’t consider any of this hard; it makes me happy, actually. I hear plenty of comments about my animals. Because I am a pescetarian (vegetarian + fish), none of these animals is raised for slaughter. And I would never allow that to happen to any of them. Nor could I live on a farm where animals are being slaughtered. I know that’s where meat comes from, and I respect another’s right to eat as they choose, but it won’t be happening here. And there’s no such thing as Freezer School. My chickens and ducks give me eggs; reduce the tick and slug populations, respectively; provide sweet song and gentle chatter, laughter and love; and plenty of free fertilizer for the gardens. That is enough. They do not need to give me their lives, too. The goats are dairy goats but Felicity has not been bred. It is in the future plans, but I’m still learning basic goat care skills like hoof trimming and such; milking and midwifery will come later. The milk, cheese, soap and cosmetics that the goat’s milk will eventually provide, as well as their comical antics, affection, and, yes, more fertilizer is also enough. My rabbits, well, I’ve had 3 Angoras in the past who have provided me with lots of Angora wool. I have a spinning wheel but I haven’t mastered spinning yet; that is a work in process. The 6 rabbits that currently share this homestead with me are Lionheads. And, at present, cuddly and funny little pets who also provide plenty of fertilizer–I’m getting this composting thing down pat. (chuckle) I have considered cross-breeding them with some Angoras next spring, which I think would produce a finer wool but we shall see; one step at a time. Homesteading is a work in process. Always. You are always improving, always thinking of new ways to increase your yields, to reduce your waste and your carbon footprint, to become more self-sufficient. But the one thing I hear most–especially from Mom–is “I do too much”. Interestingly, Jenna Woginrich has a section entitled just that. Her words echo my thoughts and feelings entirely:

“I have too many hobbies, too many obligations, and too many animals holding me down on this farm. Sometimes I believe this. Sometimes. If I just kept a few chickens and some raised beds with a couple or three sheep, life would be easier.

And I would be miserable.

I do what I do because it fills my mind, body and spirit. I live in this frenzy of activity not as a victim but as a celebrant…some days are overwhelming and scary, and those words “too much” haunt me like ghosts. They keep me up at night. But every morning I know what I am capable of, and what this farm stands for. What feels like fear today is inspiration tomorrow and nostalgia around the fireside in a season.

I’ll figure out the mortgage, the freelance, the bills, the manuscripts, and the workshops…It’s not what I have taken on that scares me, it’s that I’m not doing enough. Not doing enough to make this farm work, to make myself healthy, to make mistakes disappear.

You know what I think? I think wasted potential is a lot scarier than feeling overwhelmed. There is no monster greater than regret. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Yes, I do too much. It’s what I do.” (Woginrich 100-101)

I couldn’t have said it better myself. This one passage really says it all for me. It is also comforting that there is at least one other person out there with many of the same passions as I possess. And they’re making it work for them. I just have to keep putting on those big girl pants each morning, sit down, and just write. The creative genius is just another muscle that needs to constantly be strengthened and stretched. Sort of like this morning’s tackling of one of my new yoga DVD’s. I may not be getting all the way into those bends and twists yet but, in time, look out. I am unstoppable.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Dufresne, John. The Lie That Tells a Truth. W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York: 2003.

Woginrich, Jenna. One Woman Farm. Storey Publishing, Massachusetts: 2013.

Faith, Gratitude, Homesteading, Religion, Spirituality, Yoga & Fitness

Unsolved Mystery…

Lisa Burbank

My new class started yesterday so I spent most of my day holed up in the home office…which smells a lot like acrylic paint right now due to the mural-in-progress but that’s neither here nor there. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that I went downstairs and found the mail that Mom had brought in and laid on the counter for me. I was both puzzled and surprised to find a package addressed to me. Puzzled because the yoga DVD’s I had ordered last week arrived on Saturday and the textbooks for this new term had arrived the week before. So I wasn’t expecting anything.

There was a moment’s pause before I opened it. Though it was addressed to me, the sender was someone who called themselves “Lipstick Librarian” (!??!!) and there was a reference to Ebay. This was definitely not something that I had ordered; I think I’ve only been on Ebay once. So all sorts of things went through my head. My birthday’s not for a couple of months–and as I’m reaching the half-century mark, I’d rather not think about that at the moment–and it’s definitely not Christmas. Sad, in this day and age with so much violence and terrorism, that my next thoughts turned to the anthrax scare of several years ago even as I grabbed a pair of scissors to open the package. Eh, an unexpected package with no known sender? My vivid imagination was in danger of getting the better of me.

Inside was a copy of Rodney Yee’s A.M. Yoga for Beginners in VHS form–just like the one that was eaten last week. Again, sad, I assumed, momentarily, that Gaiam had sent me duplicates. But the package said Ebay and this wasn’t another set of DVD’s. Was I being charged again? I thought briefly of identity theft but usually the victims of such do not receive a gift in exchange. So how did I receive a set of VHS tapes identical to what I’d recently lost? There was no invoice or paperwork of any kind saying where this had come from…or who was “Lipstick Librarian”. So I went online to Ebay. I did find a seller named Lipstick Librarian so this is obviously the name of someone selling merchandise through Ebay but not necessarily the person(s) who sent it to me. I had to create an account on Ebay to find this information…and to find contact info for Ebay. I called Ebay and, I must say, they were very helpful and courteous. The young lady I spoke with suggested that maybe the package had come to me in error. When I reiterated that it was addressed to me, she seemed surprised. She asked if I had an account with her. I told her, “Yes, I just created it 5 minutes ago; that’s how I got your number.” That rocked her even more. She did some checking and assured me I was not being charged for the tapes as they did not have any billing information for me. So, for the moment, it is still a mystery though she assured me that Ebay would look into the matter, contact the seller, and see if they could find out who sent them.

So, now I have a mystery on my hands.

When I went back downstairs after talking to Ebay, Mom and I both agreed that it was definitely too much of a coincidence (of which I don’t believe) that a replacement set of VHS tapes arrived only days after I posted here about losing one of them. I confess, now that the threat of alien abduction is out of the way, I am more than a little touched that someone thought to send them to me. I just wish I knew who it was so that I could thank them personally. However, as it is fairly obvious that the gift was prompted by last week’s posting, I am hoping that this friend is also reading this post today. Thank you very, very much for your kindness and generosity; you made my day! I don’t know if the anonymity was intended or not but it makes the gift all the more special. I don’t know who you are but He does. And I am asking the good Lord to bless your life even more richly than He has mine. I hope that someday the mystery will be answered so I can give you a big hug of thanks; for now, here’s a big cyber hug coming your way.

May God bless you & keep you!

Faith, Gratitude, Homesteading, Religion, Spirituality

Gratitude

Lisa Burbank

First of all, I have to give credit where it is due. The good Lord has blessed my life so richly and I am eternally grateful for the family and friends–both human and humane–who have stood by me through thick and thin. Though there are times when I am tempted to give in to despair, I know He will always bring me through whatever crisis that arises. Sometimes I may not always think so because His plan isn’t exactly according to my plans but, no matter what, He always gives me what I need. Lately, those blessings have been pouring in as each lesson is learned. There’s an old saying that when the pupil is ready, the teacher will arrive. I’m probably paraphrasing that one a bit but the intent is there. He has been bringing me teacher after teacher–and I’m not talking college professors either, despite my recent submersion into acadamia, though I am grateful for each of them and what they’ve taught me each term. It is lessons for living that I am talking about, lessons for getting out of this “stuck” place that I’ve been inhabiting for the last several years and, as my favorite REO Speedwagon song says, “Blazin’ My (your) Own Trail” again.

As I begin my third straight week of blogging, I have received so many words of encouragement and support that I am actually feeling a bit humbled. And thrilled. It is a bit gratifying to know that folks are reading what I’ve written, to know that so many are enjoying it. I’ve also had a number of strangers within the Word Press community start following my blog, some of them reaching out with words of encouragement. I want to thank each and every one of you–friend, family, or new acquaintance–for the kind words and support, for the motivation to keep going. I also want to thank you for your patience as I continue finding my feet in this world of blogging. I know where I want to go but it will take a while to get there.

Of course, while I’m feeling the love and at risk of becoming misty-eyed, I would like to take a few moments to thank a few others who have helped start me on my journey. You see, the last few years have been a bit rough. Financial burdens have definitely taken their toll and I’m still taking 3 steps backwards for every half-step I take forward in getting back on my feet. I’m not complaining, really. I’ve been working with some wonderful people via some financial workshops. One was a partnering between The United Way and the Women’s Business Development Council. I worked with a gentleman named Howard Haberern who definitely helped me to get a better handle on my time management–especially my penchant for always being at least 1/2 hour late to everything. He really helped me to look at this penchant in a different light and I will always be grateful for his guidance, though I confess to silently bristling when he first spoke. I still fall off the wagon from time to time but I am definitely making better strides towards punctuality. I also appreciate the words of encouragement he gave regarding finances, his assurance that it wasn’t my inability to manage money but simply being under-employed. Now that I’m not beating up on myself so bad, my focus is shifting towards the positive and I’m learning to go more with the flow; life always comes in waves. And I know, in time, I will be back on top again. Thank you, Howard! (Not sure if Howard is reading this, but the gratitude is definitely heart-felt)

Last December I decided to take a risk. Though things are still tight, I decided to invest in myself. I have been following the Prolific Living blog by Farnoosh Brock for a couple of years now. I have also been on her emailing list. I’ve participated in a number of free programs that she offers, as well as a small investment back in 2014 in her Positive Affirmations for Life program. Farnoosh is a student of author, Louise Hay, who wrote “You Can Change Your Life” and she has developed a wonderful audio program that I have been listening to almost daily. For those of you not familiar with affirmations, they are simply statements that you say to yourself every day to help overcome negative programming, self-esteem issues, and/or to manifest certain goals. You say everything in the positive. as though it is happening right now. Some examples would be, “I use my skills and talents in the best possible way” or “I am always on time to every event”. Having been battling a bit of depression with my under-employment issues, this program has proven to be a sound investment–as has the Smart Exit Blueprint plan, the program I took a leap of faith into in December. This one has been a bit more of an investment but I have no regrets. It has really helped me to prioritize, to commit to my lifelong goals, and of particular benefit to me, to weed out all of the “busy” work so I can focus more clearly on those goals.

I love writing. But, over the last several years, I have done very little of it because a.) I was always too busy with other stuff to sit down and actually write and b.) I didn’t carve out any specific time each day to write–despite being in a degree program with Southern New Hampshire University to receive a BA in Creative Writing with an Emphasis on Fictional Writing. Thanks to this Smart Exit Blueprint program, I am much more focused on those goals. And here I am writing each morning before most of the rest of New England is even thinking about awakening. (Okay…so I am a little OCD but I’m learning to work with it)

And, before I thank Farnoosh for her excellent program, and the SEB community for their encouragement and support, I do want to say that this “plug” I’ve just given for Farnoosh’s programs is being done independently and not as some sort of required endorsement of either program. Having had a private practice in holistic health in recent years, I know how important positive feedback and word-of-mouth is to a business. It is also my way of giving back a little. This program has real value and I want to share that with my friends and family. If you do the work required, it is worth the investment. We all have dreams. Taking the time to invest in them, to invest in yourself, is worth every effort. If the good Lord has put a dream on your heart, maybe it’s His way of telling you where He wants you to go. I firmly believe that.

Incidentally, the Smart Exit Blueprint is about taking those steps towards doing work that you love…and earning a living from it. You become part of a community where everyone is on a similar journey and so you can support each other. And, what’s nice about the program is that Farnoosh is always actively involved. This isn’t a program where the coordinator/creator comes up with some videos and/or literature and says, “Okay…you’re on your own.” Instead, I received a phone call from Farnoosh when I started and she has answered every email, has answered every question herself in her live webinars. For that I am truly grateful so, Farnoosh, thank you very, very much for this excellent program. Since I started–and I took a lot longer than I thought I would to complete it because this program really made me think and to tackle certain “blocks”, something I was avoiding and, thus, procrastinated on some of the modules–but I’ve definitely taken some strides forward, strides I’m not sure I would have taken, not sure I would have had the courage to take before this program. Some of them include starting a crowdfunding campaign to help start a potential business; contacting a career advisor through SNHU, who has helped me to connect with others in the writing industry, especially, those for the environment; I started blogging; I’ve been taking some baby steps towards developing my homestead and, though it has little to do with either writing or goat wrangling, I’ve found a bit of creative genius inside that has had me painting and drawing again. I actually started a mural in my home office that I know will eventually prove to be an effective vision board (it’s a work in process…just like homesteading). Anyway, I’m not sure I would have shifted my focus to art at all if I hadn’t worked on Module 3 and discovered my passions. Again, thank you very much, Farnoosh, and to all the SEB community! I am honored to be part of such a community.

And, at the risk of this looking like the acknowledgements in the inside of a book or CD sleeve, there are some individuals that have gone above and beyond the call of duty in helping me on my journey: Mom, Shaun & Stef & the girls–my immediate family is always there…they may not always “get” me, but they love me anyway; ditto for extended family; especially Auntie Cheryl for the girls’ days, the holiday dinners and for always being my surrogate big “sister”; to Unc & Cousins, too, for everything; Aunt Sandy and Uncle George–the two of you are so very special to me, I wish we lived closer to each other; Aunt Debbie and Aunt Sandy D. for helping me when I was down and out; Aunt Donna for caring enough to go to therapy with me; to Aunt Judi, I am so happy to have you in my life again, to be in touch again–growing up, you always made learning fun; to Karen, Donna, and Mary–having 3 best friends is wealth, indeed; and I have a wealth of friends everywhere who make my life so special. No, I’m not planning on going anywhere, nor am I near any tragic anniversaries…just expressing my gratitude for each of you. I don’t always express my appreciation. Of course, there are many others who are no longer here physically to thank but the gratitude is no less for the gifts they have given me in life. Of life. And, of course, once I hit “publish”, I will likely remember skeighty-eight hundred more that I would like to thank for their encouragement and support through the years. My apologies to you all; your blessings are just as greatly appreciated and you are loved beyond your ability to comprehend.

May God bless you & keep you!