Category: Yoga & Fitness

19th century, Christianity, Culture, Faith, God/Jesus, History, Holidays, Religion, Scripture, Tradition, Yoga & Fitness

December 25th

Lisa Burbank

“Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign: behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

My Puritan ancestors did not celebrate Christmas. The Puritans took much of Scripture, if not all of it, literally. And, as there’s no actual date for the birth of Christ in the Bible, December 25th was business as usual in New England until around 1850 when Prince Albert gifted Queen Victoria with a fully-decorated Christmas tree. That fashionable trend, along with the influx of immigrants from Italy, Ireland and various other countries that followed closely the Church of Rome (Catholicism), paved the way for the religious observance of December 25th that Chrisitians, and even non-Christians, celebrate as Jesus’ birthday each year in the U.S.

Yes, it’s true that Constantine “borrowed”, “hijacked”, or however you wish to term it, certain Yule-tide practices from what we now call pagan religions. Back then, “pagan” was simply a term for a country dweller (farmer), who followed the seasons, and paid homage to the god of his or her consciousness for successful crops, and good health through the long winter ahead for family, friends and even livestock. But it’s also true that early scholars have studied Scripture and other religious documents closely…enough that they have a fair approximation of when Christ was born.

Yule, from which many “yuletide” celebrations have stemmed, is celebrated on December 21st. Kwanzaa is celebrated December 26th through January 1st. And, this year, Hanukkah is celebrated December 25th through January 2nd. Hanukkah’s dates change each year though. The celebration of Christmas does not. It is always December 25th.

In short, He is the reason that Christians celebrate December 25th. So, I will say, “Merry Christmas!” to you in passing. Not in effort to be an insensitive clod, but because this is my faith. This is what I believe. Because I am celebrating this sacred time and I want to wish you well during this season…and throughout the whole year.

If you correct me with an admonition that I should say, “Happy Holidays!” so as not to offend somebody else, guess what? For many Christians, that is offensive. Should I start correcting you in your religious practices?

That being said, I often do say “Happy Holidays!”, especially if I don’t know what you believe. Context often plays a role here. If I know you’re Jewish, I will wish you a Happy Hanukkah! If Wiccan, or today’s Paganism, I will wish you a Happy Yule! But, if I do greet you with a “Merry Christmas!”, perhaps reconsider that I’m baiting you in some way, or lavishing an insult. “Merry Christmas” means I wish you peace, joy, and love. That should not be an insult to anyone…and no conversion necessary to accept my humble blessing of peace, joy and love with grace. A simple “Merry Christmas to you, too!” will do. (Sort of like intoning “Namaste” to each other after a yoga practice…)

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Abuse, Alcoholism, Chronic Epstein Barr, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Exhaustion, Faith, God/Jesus, Healing, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Poverty, Prayer, Scripture, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Convenience Over Quality

Lisa Burbank

“And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient.” (Romans 1:28)

Despite my longing for a 19th century style of life, unprocessed foods and clean soil with which to grow food, I live in the 21st century. When I’m feeling tired, rundown, or overwhelmed, it’s pretty easy to cave into temptation and reach for a package of Ramen noodles. Or a can of Campbell’s soup. Would that there were healthier options available in that time of need. Would that I still spent Sundays cooking and baking a mountain of food to freeze for such times again.

Convenience is the reward for either my laziness, or my lack of foresight, in planning ahead for such “rainy” days. The price is a body that feels stiff and tired, eyes that burn with fatigue, and a head that’s filled with so much fog, I might need a foghorn to warn any incoming data of potential rocks up ahead.

Of course, there’s a snowball effect here, too. As I reach for convenience, I also find myself sleeping later, but not feeling rested. Regular prayer life, yoga and Ayurveda practices, daily walks, and just some quiet time alone have fallen by the wayside. How did I get into this rut? Was it only from another snowball effect of job losses, injuries and toxic relationships that led me here? Or something more?

The campaign ads are correct that so many of our illnesses come from what’s in our food. I have Irritable Bowel/Inflammatory Bowel Syndrome, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Chronic Epstein-Barr. Childhood trauma, and the stress that comes with it, certainly contributed to these conditions, but our food system played its part, too. Mom was a single mother for many years, struggling to get by. She married an alcoholic, who was forever losing jobs because he was hung over and “couldn’t” work before an injury permanently disabled him, so the struggle not only continued, but increased on the stress barometer. We lived on a diet of Campbell’s soup, Rice-A-Roni, Noodle Roni, Hamburger Helper, and white flour products.

We couldn’t afford better. And most families cannot afford better today. In fact, the campaign ads are also correct that it’s gotten worse since I was a kid in the late-60s and 70s.

The answer is to hold myself accountable for my choices, take baby steps, such as ordering a salad at a restaurant instead of “loaded” fries, or writing a blog post that doesn’t make a lot of sense…but doing it anyway. Taking these small steps, and slowly increasing, until I’m feeling more like myself again. And giving back by making healthier foods and supplements (i.e. herbs) not only a staple in my own life, but a cornerstone of this homestead.

Of course, prayer is the biggest answer. Giving it all to God, taking it to Jesus in prayer, giving Him my lazy, my lack of foresight, my tired, stiff body, and allowing Him to build a lighthouse to avoid those rocks in the fog is the best blueprint for success. He is the One “convenience” that gives the best quality of life. Ever.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Books, Faith, Finances, God/Jesus, Homesteading, Human rights, Scripture, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Can’t? Says, Who?

Lisa Burbank

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgement you shall condemn.” (Isaiah 54:17)

I would’ve been a suffragette if I had lived in the 1800s. Not because of any man-hating, as far too many modern-day feminists seem to do, but simply because I’ve never been able to accept being told I *can’t* do something.

Yes, I am well aware of the biological differences between men and women. I know my physical limitations, for example. I simply do not have the same upper body strength that a man has. I’m okay with that because I *can’t* think of anything that this has kept me from doing that I’ve wanted to do…except maybe Camel pose in Yoga (chuckle). All kidding aside though, in every other instance, I’ve always managed to devise ways to compensate for that limitation. For instance, I purchased a “dolly”, or hand truck, many years ago to help me carry 50 lb. sacks of animal feed into the barn.

But telling me I *can’t* own my own property and do with it as I choose. Telling me I *can’t* control and manage my own finances. Telling me I *can’t* be a writer, or an artist, or a doctor because I’m female. That wouldn’t have flown with me…even in 1830. I’d either be chaining myself to a lamp post, or shoved into an asylum, because I refused to stay in the box that society put me into.

My stepfather use to tell everyone not to tell me I *can’t* do something because I was going to prove you wrong…or die trying. Well, he was right. And I’m still standing.

Not recently, but I have had a lot of naysayers over the years telling me I *can’t* earn a living as a writer. Well, I haven’t proven that I can yet, but it’s not stopping me from writing…or trying to reach that pinnacle of worldly success.

Yes, I know. For every Stephen King or Nora Roberts, there are hundreds of writers who have been published, but they’re still working other jobs to make ends meet. Many of them were my professors in college. I can find most of them on Fantastic Fiction with a list of the tomes they’ve written…even if nobody seems to have heard of them. Their books sell well enough to keep an editor happy but, for some reason, they’re just not household names. There’s no shame in that. Countless others never get that shot at being published at all.

I hear a lot of naysayers telling me I also *can’t* homestead, especially not alone. I need people to help me. Well, yes, it would be nice to have others on the same page with me and working right alongside me. And, even if they’re not on the same page as me, I appreciate the help I do get from others. I’ve learned to accept that not a lot of people *get* this homesteading thing. They certainly don’t *get* my why, or how, no matter how often I seek to explain it. That’s okay. This homestead was thriving solely under my care until a recession, and then an injury, derailed a lot of that care. It will be again. It’s simply a matter of picking up the pieces and getting back on that proverbial horse again, not throwing in the towel.

I would’ve been a suffragette in the 1800s because telling me I *can’t* only goads me into proving to everyone–including myself–that, yes, I CAN, just as my stepfather used to say.

You CAN, too. Whatever dream, or goal, is on your heart, you can. It may not happen overnight, but it won’t happen at all if you don’t take steps towards making it happen. And that’s as much a pep talk for me as it is for you. I’m my own worst enemy!

Taking those steps forward means learning to manage your finances, and your time, a little better than most. It will also mean missing a few cookouts or movies, etc. That’s part of the commitment and time management. Not missing out on fun and/or quality time entirely, but finding that balance that let’s you indulge your passions (those that are productive and giving, not the raw kind of passions that lead to the destruction of self (drugs, alcohol, sex outside of marriage)). But, if you really want it, you’ll learn to manage your resources and make better choices that will take you closer to your dreams.

It will take a lot of prayer and commitment, too. Yes, prayer. Not only does He make all things new, He has a dream for you. If you’re dreaming of something, take it to Him in prayer. What is His plan for your life? I guarantee that dream on your heart came from Him in the first place, but the execution, if we put it in His hands, will be greater and more fulfilling than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Christianity, Exhaustion, Family, Fiber Arts, Friendship, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, Homesteading, Plants, Prayer, Prepping, Reading, Religion, Sleep Deprivation, Spinning, Straw Braiding, Weaving, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Keeping It Simple

Lisa Burbank

“For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33)

I’m feeling my age…and the stress of the past year: navigating, and eventually, mitigating foreclosure; the loss of my beloved aunt and uncle; new job position that I absolutely love but, it also keeps me hopping with an ever-changing schedule; thesis courses demanding 15,000 new words to my first novel to be turned in every 4 weeks. And now, another beloved aunt struggling with health issues. I also have a cat under veterinary care right now and a geriatric goat with some special needs. To say that I am spent would be putting it mildly.

And yet, on the upside, through His grace, I have successfully navigated foreclosure and, at least for the moment, am keeping my home. I am blessed beyond measure to have aunts and uncles that I can call “beloved”. I am also blessed beyond measure in a still-tanking job market to have the job that I do. There’s a certain thrill to see the story in my head and in my heart coming out on paper. And it’s another kind of blessing to have pets to share my world, to care for each day.

But I’m still spent.

I stood up one of my best friends this week for an event that she and I were supposed to attend together. She was worried something bad might’ve happened. Then I forgot I had agreed to cover as Lector last week for a fellow parishioner. Father Ben teased me about it. He wasn’t angry, but I was angry with myself…for both instances.

I either need to simplify, or get better organized. Perhaps it’s a little of both. An accountability partner would be a blessing right now, too, but I can’t have everything…

“The Dream” section of this blog/website is still in my heart. Every time I think of simplifying, another point from that bulleted outline rears up and says, “Don’t forget me!”. And I don’t.

Still, there’s a shifting inside that is looking to modify it a little…at least until I’m through with college.

I’ve blogged before about how I overfill my time. I tend to have “scatter syndrome” from too much “busyness”. I forget things like dates with friends, additional commitments, and even prayer. The flip side is, if I simplify too much, the brain turns to mush and the forgetfulness increases, rather than decreases. I need to find that sweet balance.

Or a staycation where I can do some much-needed spring cleaning that’s nagging at me and get better organized.

But, back to simplifying…if I stay right here in northeastern Connecticut, then The Herbal Hare may get whittled down to what everyone sees in the icon: Bunnies, herbs, and honeybees. I’ve already determined, unless I do find that place in Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire…or Missouri, then Felicity will be my last goat, and the few chickens and ducks I have left, also the last.

And does that ever cut!

But my life has become an endless litany of sacrifices. I sacrifice time with friends to keep up on my studies. I sacrifice writing time to help out somewhere. I sacrifice things like yoga, exercise, time with this blog, etc. to “catch up” on some much needed sleep. And then I beat myself up for not “making” the time for these other things. In short, with my time–and I have only 24 hours a day like everyone else–I am perpetually robbing Peter to pay Paul.

So, it’s time to prioritize. And then, once I’ve graduated, I can re-evaluate.

My priorities are likened to those times that prove, or have proven, to be the most satisfying to my soul:

Time spent in prayer.

Saturday evenings playing cards and Scrabble with Mom.

Chatting with my brother, sister-in-law and nieces on the phone.

Outings with friends to hike through the park, peruse the bookstore, visit a museum, share a meal.

Family get togethers.

Time spent on the water, either cruising the lake on my uncle’s pontoon, or sharing the paddle boat with a cousin or two.

Walks with my dogs…when I had dogs.

Bunny-time…when I had rabbits, the time spent each night in their room letting them free-range outside of their cages. Sometimes I would simply read while they stretched their legs. Most of the time, I laughed at their antics…especially when the cats joined in and all of them played and cuddled together.

When I worked in living history museums, the mornings spent walking through the herb garden I was in charge of with a cuppa tea in hand, deciding what “chores” needed to be done today while stopping to inhale the scents of my favorite plants.

Working in the garden.

Making tinctures, salves, decoctions, infusions, or spice blends.

Spinning wool into yarn, filling the niddy-noddy with it, or weaving new cloth.

Braiding straw with which to make hats.

A whole Sunday spent cooking and baking for the week.

Watching honeybees at work gathering their nectar.

Time spent in the barnyard.

Reading a passage of a book, or story, that I’ve written that came out particularly well.

Reading a good book.

Spending my early mornings with a cuppa tea and working on a blog post.

And, one of the most satisfying moments of my life was about 10 years’ ago. I cooked a simple meal of pasta, salad and bread, topped it off with a cup of hot chocolate. The pasta sauce had come from tomatoes I’d grown from seed and canned. Most of the salad fixings came from my own garden. The bread was made from scratch. And even the marshmallow I’d placed in my hot chocolate had been made from scratch. It was that feeling of accomplishment.

The new job has those moments, too, especially when I’m hosting a writer’s workshop, or a book club, or a knitting/crocheting group and that sense of community ensues.

These are the things that fill me with peace, things I long to get back to. And, anything in The Dream, or in present life, that does not lead me to one (or all) of these ends, will have to go. That’s a tall order, but it’s one worth filling.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Animals, Christianity, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, History, Homesteading, Memories, Nostalgia, Prayer, Religion, Sleep Deprivation, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Getting Back To My Roots

Lisa Burbank

“O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.” (Psalm 8:1)

Sunday was Palm Sunday. I went to Mass and served as Lector, reading through Judas’ betrayal of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It’s one of those rare moments when Mass becomes almost a play, with Father Ben reading the words of Jesus; Lectors, like myself, reading the parts of the narrator and “voice”, and the rest of the congregation reading the parts labeled “crowd”.

I sometimes kick myself for not pursuing a career in acting. I studied acting in high school and, again, in community college. I’m quite good at it. And, after several years of serving as Lector, my knees no longer knock together in front of a crowd.

But I wasn’t really thinking about acting as I stood in front of the congregation on Sunday and read for the “voice”. My mind was reflecting over the last 5 weeks of Lent. I gave up junk food, at least the more popular definition of it (candy, sweets, chips, etc.). Living with the definitive junk food junkie (Mom), it’s tough to resist. However, as a measure of Mom’s sweetness and solidarity, she also gave up junk food for Lent so it wouldn’t be so hard for me. She didn’t want to eat chips and cookies in front of me.

Less mindful after Mass, I took Mom out for Chinese food and broke that Lenten vow by eating a fortune cookie (sigh!)

I also vowed to get back to reading a chapter of the Bible each morning and focusing more on my prayer life.

I’ve failed miserably on that score.

It’s amazing how hard it is to rekindle a habit once it’s been broken. It’s also amazing these epiphany moments.

Earlier blog posts have often sung the praises of working for a living history museum. It was the dream job come true. And, in many ways, that statement was true. I learned all sorts of things that will aid me on my homesteading journey, things that have been a major blessing already. Perhaps the sin of pride, but there was recognition as a herbalist…because that was my title: Herb Garden Lead. And, in many ways, I got to act. There were “scripts” to memorize (i.e. historical facts) when interpreting for visitors to the museum. There were skills to learn so we could demonstrate life in the 19th century.

It was also a very demanding position.

Prior to getting this job, I had a habit of rising everyday at 3:30 a.m. I blogged, prayed the rosary, and hit the yoga mat. Then I headed downstairs and outside to the barn to take care of the animals. I didn’t have to be to work until 3:30 in the afternoon at the dealership so I spent late-morning, early-afternoon writing. If the dealership had been a full-time position, it would’ve been ideal for this writer. I got home at 7:30 in the evening, spent some time caring for my animals again, and then went to bed.

Living history, however, demanded swing shifts. Evening programs on a Saturday didn’t see me driving over an hour home until after midnight…only to have to get up again a few hours’ later to work Sunday morning. 3:30 a.m. and writing became an impossible dream. The rides into work each morning found me playing “beat the school bus” because every route into work seemed to be a school bus route…no matter what time I left for work. I spent my mornings literally running through the barnyard, 19th century skirts hiked up over my knees as I threw hay and feed at the animals and yelled at them to get out of my way (we had to be fully dressed in period attire walking into the museum). Even changing the animals’ feeding time didn’t help because of how late I often got home at night.

And then I got my wrists slapped a few times for what few blog posts I still managed to create. I wrote about something unethical I witnessed in regard to the animals kept at the museum. I lamented being unable to attend Mass on a Sunday morning because of a conflict of hours. I own my bad on the first but, the lamentation over Mass was simply that: a lamentation. Not a dig against the museum.

I remember coming home from one of those evening programs, collapsing in the easy chair in the living room, still fully dressed in period garb, getting up 4 hours’ later and going back in, rumpled plaid still hanging from weary shoulders. I drove home the following evening praying, telling Him how I simply couldn’t do this anymore. As much as I loved interpreting, as much as I loved wearing the period clothing and learning all of these antiquated skills, I simply couldn’t devote every ounce of my being to it, as it seemed to be required.

I slipped while shoveling snow the following Tuesday so I could go into work on Wednesday and fractured my shoulder. The rest is history.

I may not have kept my Lenten vows as well as I would have liked this year. However, this Lenten season has been a time of reflection. How did I stray so far away from all that I hold dear? Writing, herbs, animals and homesteading…the things that make me, well, me. More importantly, family, friends, and above all, faith. I feel like this has been a long lesson in the sin of idolatry.

Because I truly idolized what seemed an idyllic job. If I had lived closer, if I didn’t have farm animals and pets, if, if, if…it might’ve remained a dream job–despite the grueling work schedule. But, perhaps, it was also a lesson that I’m not Supergirl. Like every other human being, I am gifted with 24 hours each day. How am I spending them?

As I continue to reflect during this Lenten season, I’m starting to go deeper. I feel like Job, questioning the why and the how. Maybe it’s time to re-read that book from the Bible.

However, for the moment, I seem caught up with the Psalms, finding balm for my spirit in shorter verses that always seem to pack a punch. It’s a reflection on my life these days: slow and steady, short and sweet. Baby steps forward, learning to take those steps and not being too hard on myself for being unable to handle anything bigger these days; it’s too overwhelming because of how far I’ve fallen behind in, well, everything. The good habits will return, or morph into something better. The life I dream of living will become a reality…or He will mold and shape it into something beyond my wildest dreams.

Amazingly, He’s been using my work at the library to teach me this very valuable lesson in taking things one step at a time. Rome isn’t built in a day but, those baby steps make a difference. It’s time to apply them at home. I can’t twitch my nose and do it all in a blink. But, each baby step will take me that much closer to that dream life…and maybe I’ll finally have time to enjoy some of that journey doing what I love, sharing it with those I love, and above all, praising Him whom I love above all else. In short, getting back to my roots.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Art, Books, Christianity, Climate Change, Creativity, Environment, Exhaustion, Faith, Fiber Arts, gardening, Global Warming, God/Jesus, Heavy Metal Music, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Memories, Music, Plants, Poverty, Social Media, Spinning, Straw Braiding, Weaving, Writing, Yoga & Fitness, YouTube

Which Way Do We Go, Which Way Do We Go?

Lisa Burbank

Rest in the Lord; wait patiently for Him to act. Don’t be envious of evil men who prosper. (Psalms 37:7)

Scatter Syndrome (skah’ ter sin drohm) 1. The inability to focus on that one thing owing to the over-eagerness of having so many options. 2. When the mind leaps from one option or opportunity to the next like a squirrel leaping from branch to branch in a tree. 3. The anxiety and subsequent exhaustion that results from considering too many of those options at once to the point of being overwhelmed and then getting absolutely NOTHING done so you crawl off feeling like a failure again. 4. All of the above.

No, I don’t believe that’s really a term. And I can’t claim I just made it up either because I got it from a friend. However, I’d like to think I’m at least one of the first to formally give it a potential dictionary meaning.

Now that I’ve graduated college with a Bachelor’s of Art in Creative Writing with an Emphasis on Fictional Writing, the world, supposedly, is at my feet. At least that’s what all the recruiters tell you as you sign the agreement at said university. In addition to a multitude of creative writing workshops, grammar and composition, literature, poetry and linguistics, I studied grant writing, business writing, entrepreneurship, art, advertising, and, of course, environmental science. This last encompassed the bulk of my electives.

So, where do I go now?

Of course, my main objective is to finish my book. But, in the meantime, I’m thinking I need to focus on some other aspects of writing, such as short stories, articles, etc. that I can finish quickly and send off to a potential editor for publication. I’m trying to focus on my writing as a business as much as an art. Though I’m leaning more towards self-publishing where my book is concerned, I would like to get my name out there. And, who knows? Maybe, in time, I’ll land a publishing deal after all.

Get an agent.

That was a steady stream of advise from nearly every college professor. But, as someone who is staring down the road to foreclosure right now (I’m behind more than the amount for which the Go Fund Me campaign was created), paying said agent would be next to impossible.

Then there is the zoning issue that I’ve recently come up against so that even if I could get right-side up on the mortgage, I would have to forfeit the heart of this homestead (the animals who share it with me) in order to stay. The attorney I consulted with over a decade ago–before I brought home my first dozen chicks and ducklings–either gave me some bad advise, or this new neighbor is throwing his weight around at the town hall. The attorney costs money, too. As does relocation. So, some of that scatter syndrome probably stems from the pressure to produce and succeed in a hurry. And it doesn’t help that his wife hides in the bushes bordering our two properties, craning her neck for…something? Gladys Kravitz has reincarnated. Maybe it’s time to twitch my nose and find my inner Samantha Stevens.

Financial challenges aside, yes, I do want to focus on my book, on my writing, first and foremost. But there’s also the homesteading and prepping that started years ago and all the myriad directions that I’d love to take it. There’s the original premise for The Herbal Hare: a business producing herbal, apian, and hand-spun/woven fiber products. There’s a second-hand spinning wheel downstairs that needs some TLC to get it moving again. It’s not the Walking/Great Wheel that I learned on and dream of owning, but it has potential…even if I do not have the fiber-producing animals yet. A loom and loom tool (smaller spinning wheel used for filling bobbins for the shuttle) are beyond me right now, but definitely hovering on the radar. There’s a shed full of bee equipment gathering dust. And dozens of seed packets and catalogs to plant that extensive herb garden for making those herbal products, selling plants and seeds, and teaching workshops on herbs. I’m even considering a YouTube channel for the same. I’d like to add some microgreens and sprouts to the list in time. There are visions of a market garden down the road. And a small garden patch planted with rye for drying and braiding the straw for making hats–a skill I never would have guessed at, a gift from my time in living history. As is the interest in lace making, which I have also tried and proven to have some proficiency in producing.

There’s an easel gathering dust. And a stack of books checked out from the library, where I currently work part-time, focused on drawing and art. There’s a guitar, amp, and Appalachian dulcimer equally dusty. Can I do something with either of those? I have a good voice. I spent over a decade fronting metal bands and I’ve served as both a member of our church choir and Lector for many years. (And, damn, if I don’t regret not taking a public speaking class during my tenure at SNHU…if it was even offered via online learning). I’m thinking voiceovers…albeit, that would require equipment I can’t afford at present, another agent, and it would take away much of the energy that I should be focusing on writing.

See? Scatter Syndrome. Twenty different directions to take and continuing to circle back to my true passion: writing, and the very real need to secure home and hearth before too much more time elapses. If this keeps up, I may find myself 90 years old and still circling.

Sigh.

Despite all of this circling, I rearranged the upstairs of my house. I used to have my office in the center bedroom where I painted a mural on the wall depicting a homestead with those fiber-producing animals, an extensive herb garden, lots of bee hives, and me standing triumphant in front of a PC whose screen shouts “BEST SELLER”. As the holistic woo-woo guru, I thought it might aid in manifesting my dreams but, I feel like it has kept me stagnant. The original intent when I painted it was to paint a house that resembled my paternal grandparents’ house, as it will forever be my happy place. I remember my irritation that I couldn’t quite get the roof line correct and, not wanting to wreck something that would forever be displayed on the wall of my house, I left it slightly “off” and continued on. Over the last couple of years since I painted it, I’ve realized that despite the white with black trim color scheme, and the dormer windows, that skewered roof line is this roof line…as is the positioning of the barn with my current barn. If it wasn’t for the new neighbor, I could have this dream here. There’s room enough. But alas…

Another sigh.

So, I’ve moved the office. And there’s a white board awaiting it’s first assignment in getting that much closer to my dreams…once I kick ol’ Scatter Syndrome to the curb and discipline that focus in its place.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Bereavement, Faith, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Herbs, Homesteading, illness, Love, Memories, Prayer, Yoga & Fitness

An Answered Prayer

Lisa Burbank

“Lord, you know the hopes of humble people. Surely you will hear their cries and comfort their hearts by helping them.” (Psalms 10:17)

I know I said in a much earlier post that I would save “those” kind of posts for New Year’s Eve only. “Those” being the posts that mention a loss here on The Herbal Hare Homestead. For the most part, I’ve stuck to it. The reason being there was a particularly dark period of time here where it felt like I was making one of “those” posts every other week. In sooth, there were 8 losses that year. Still a lot…and I could just hear all of my friends remarking how lately every time they read it, they get depressed. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. But, I confess, I started to feel depressed every time I sat down at the keyboard.

However, every once in a while, though homesteading conditions you to expect the occasional loss, there’s that “one” that truly clubs you off at the knee.

That happened Friday.

About a week earlier, Pearl went off her feed and started looking a little lethargic. This went on for almost a day with me deciding that, if she was still looking “droopy” and not eating the next morning, I would call the vet (she had had similar situations over the years and within a few hours, maybe a day, she’d bounce right back; we even visited the vet once in regard and he had reassured me that if it was only a missed meal or two, not to worry too much but simply keep an eye on her. He did a thorough check, took blood tests then, and could find nothing “wrong”.) Anyway, the next day she was eating again and seemed fine. In retrospect, I wonder if I should’ve taken her in anyway…even without any specific symptoms showing. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Last Thursday afternoon, I came in from dropping my car off at the garage and saw Pearl sleeping on the sofa. When I went over to cuddle her, she responded but something seemed “off” about her. I made a comment to Mom in that regard. As I told her, “she’s not showing any symptoms of anything but she doesn’t ‘look’ well”. I recalled that Pearl had eaten that morning, not as vigorously as usual, but it was also not one of her favorite flavors so I hadn’t been too alarmed then; perhaps I should have been. I sat down beside her on the sofa and she curled up in my lap…until Ozzy did his usual horn in on the action and she moved over to the afghan she’d been sleeping on when I came in. Then, maybe 15-20 minutes later, she got down and went into the bathroom where we have a water bowl sitting under the drippy tub faucet. Again, nothing too unusual except, over the course of the next couple of hours, she made multiple returns. I suspected she probably had a kidney infection coming in but, by then, it was evening, after hours for the vet, and the closest emergency facility is in another state (not to mention, I was without transportation) and I’m not overly trusting of this emergency facility in the first place. I brewed an infusion of parsley as a first aid and fed her some in an eyedropper, only as much as she would willingly take, knowing parsley’s gentle healing properties for anything kidney/bladder related. I also kept checking for dehydration. As the night wore on, she had started showing symptoms of the latter. By early morning, she was actually sleeping in the tub by that water bowl and there was no doubt about it: she needed to go to the vet immediately.

Of course, the car was still in the shop and, to be honest, the vet wasn’t open yet. I ran through the usual morning feeding routine, texted a friend to see if she was available to drive us up to the vet hospital, and then called the mechanic. Low and behold, the car was done so I walked over and, by the time I got home (1/2 hour later), the vet hospital was open. I called, got their answering service, and told them I was bringing her in; I wasn’t arguing about it. A few minutes’ later, we were waiting in the parking lot for one of the techs to bring her in for examination. They took her in almost immediately and confirmed what I had suspected: a kidney infection. They asked permission to keep her overnight. They were starting her on subcutaneous fluids, as she was dehydrated by then, and antibiotics to kill the infection.

I got a call a few hours later to give them a call back as Pearl was not responding to treatment. For some reason, the call had gone straight to my voicemail so I called them immediately back.

Dr. Lambert apologized the moment the receptionist put the call through to him: Pearl was gone. They had given her the sub-Q fluids but they discovered when they went to administer the antibiotics that she was still dehydrated. When they went to give her more sub-Q fluids, she started convulsing. They tried to save her but her heart just stopped.

And my world just stopped.

I am devastated. This was my little shadow. I haven’t been at the keyboard any more than necessary (homework only) because I know I won’t have her chirping at me to get in my lap…and then getting all indignant when my fingers are banging away at the keyboard instead of scratching under her chin indefinitely. I haven’t been on the yoga mat because little Miss Pearl would lay on the floor and stretch with me. I’m expecting a little white kitty with black patches to get in my lap when I’m eating my breakfast cereal, waiting for me to finish and leave her the last few drops of milk. Going to sleep at night has been a challenge. I no longer have 9 lbs. of kitty sprawled across my belly and chest, front paws encircling my neck, head tucked under my chin.

So where does the answered prayer come in? Because you know I was praying right along for Him to heal her, to bring her home safe, sound, healthy, etc–ALIVE!!

Four years’ ago, I came home from work, Pearl came running to greet me at the door, lost her balance, and flopped over. I took her to the vet. They treated her for an inner ear infection but Dr. Blakesley (other vet at same hospital) had cautioned that, if she didn’t respond, they would have to do a biopsy as they suspected Pearl might have a brain tumor. However, Pearl responded. When I was burying her beside her sister, Megan, I remembered praying that night that Pearl was too young. She was only 12 (then). Please, would He give me just a few more years with her? Let her at least make it to 16, which is a very great age for a cat, but Ariel had made it that far; please, could He let Pearl make it till at least 16, too?

She did.

Of course, I also remember telling Him that I knew when that day came at age 16, I would probably beg for a few more years with her…and I did…but that I would accept it, knowing that 16 is quite elderly for a cat and that I couldn’t expect too many more years with her.

Heavy sigh.

No matter how many years we have with each other, there is NEVER enough time. As I posted briefly on Facebook last week, who would’ve thought one little cat could have this big of an impact on my life? I feel so lost without her; I look for her everywhere…and even feel a twinge of guilt every time I cuddle one of the other 6 felines that share my world. I also apologize that, even though I love them all dearly, well, no, they aren’t Pearl. They’re Kirby and Ozzy and Emmy Lou and Priscilla and Whitney and Rosco, this last one actually traveled cross country with Mom 6 years’ ago, and they are each special in their own way. I wouldn’t trade them, would mourn them just as fiercely, but I’m still looking for a little sassy white cat with black patches and a black tail, leading me upstairs for some one-on-one cuddle time together, and listening for that sweet little voice talking to me at every opportunity.

But despite this empty, aching hole in my heart, I would do it all again, Miss Pearl. Maybe I would’ve adopted you the very first time I saw you and Megan in the cage at the vet hospital awaiting a forever home (I had visited the vet hospital a few times before finally deciding to take them home). Maybe I would’ve taken you to the vet the week before when you went off your feed that first day last week. Would it have made a difference? Would you still be here with me? Or would I have lost you a week sooner because your little heart was simply done and would’ve given out that much sooner with the stress of being in the vet hospital? I’ll never know. But I do know that Celine Dion was right: the heart does go on.

And, ironically, there is a mixed blessing in this stupid pandemic. Though I had to wait out in the parking lot while the doc examined Pearl, I got to spend these last 1 and 1/2 months with my girl almost non-stop because being a librarian is not an essential worker and we have been home since mid-March. I’m actually grateful for that today.

R.I.P. my little Pearlina Wilhelmina…I love you, Sweetie, and I’d do it all again.

May God bless you & keep you!

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Stay tuned…

Lisa Burbank

…our regularly scheduled program will be back as soon as I’ve finished my final exam this week! =)

Stay safe, stay healthy…May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Books, Christianity, Exhaustion, Faith, Forgiveness, gardening, God/Jesus, Healing, Homesteading, Lent, Reading, Scripture, Sleep Deprivation, Spirituality, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Exhaustion Overcometh

Lisa Burbank

“Then, as I looked, I learned this lesson: A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest means that poverty will break in upon you suddenly like a robber, and violently like a bandit.” (Proverbs 24:32-34)

I fell off the wagon, so to speak, the last two days. I am definitely NOT cramming another whole novel into Sunday. It will have to be no novel reading at all throughout the Lenten season…or nix that particular vow entirely if I don’t think I can do it.

Why?

My late night marathon Sunday evening resulted in a couple of nights’ worth of insomnia. Even going to bed at a reasonable hour, I tossed and turned and couldn’t get to sleep at all. Monday evening I actually brewed a cuppa tea after supper and thought, well, I’ve already started the ball rolling so let’s see if I can push my writing habit to evenings. I mean, why not? It probably wouldn’t give me more time to write, per se, but it would reduce the “push” in the mornings when I want to finish just one more thread in the scene that I’m building, or point I’m trying to make in a blog post. Even after I wrote for a little bit, I still tossed and turned until well after midnight. Tuesday I didn’t drink any tea but I still had trouble going to sleep.

And woke up yesterday morning still tired and grumpy and groggy. After taking care of the animals in the a.m., I took a nap (my shift at the library doesn’t start until 1 p.m.), thinking this is really going to throw my schedule out of whack but, lo and behold, it simply gave me the oomph I needed to finish the day. I still crashed around 8 o’clock last night, conking out as soon as my head hit the pillow, and I slept a full 9 hours, getting up at 5:30 instead of my usual 3:30. I hit the yoga mat. I didn’t hit the exercise bike but I’m okay with that for today. I can get back on it tomorrow. I’m actually feeling pretty good…except for the scratchy throat, which I’m thinking is probably some seasonal allergies kicking up as the weather warms.

I’m not begrudging the extra sleep (I know the Proverbs’ verse I chose probably points otherwise); I was completely useless for three whole days and getting a little extra sleep was the only way to nix that. However, by overindulging on Sunday, and depriving myself of normal sleeping hours, I wasted the earlier part of this week that could’ve been better spent. It is warming up. I have a golden opportunity with this part-time endeavor to use the extra hours in the early part of the day to finish that landscaping project. I have apple trees that will need pruning this week. And a shed-turned-barn to clean out, repair, and get ready for the animals again (they were relocated to another outbuilding for the winter as the goats knocked one of the barn doors askew jumping on it last spring). I have compost to turn and a few more bins to construct from an unexpected gift last fall (a truck going by dropped a load of pallets in the road in front of my house; I found them scattered along the front edge of the property when I came home from work one day). And, of course, I have stories to write…and try to sell. I have a side hustle that I’m promoting to try and scare up extra business. I am also still looking for either full-time work, or another part-time gig, to supplement what I’m already earning as a librarian.

The side hustle?

Do you need a proofreader? Have you written a speech and want to ensure it will deliver? Are you a student with a report, essay, composition or thesis due that you want reviewed for grammar and flow (no, I won’t write it for you)? Maybe you’ve written a letter to the editor, or an article that you want looking its best before publishing…or even a book “in the works” that you’d like critiqued. Does your company have a regular newsletter that you’d liked checked before it’s distributed? I can help.

Perhaps you’re short on staff and need someone to actually write that speech, letter or newsletter. Got an event coming up and need flyers created? Or perhaps your business would benefit from some new brochures…

That is the bulk of the brochure that I’ve created to distribute around town but, the wider I cast that net, the better chance I have of catching a fish or two. So why not promote it on my blog? It is what it is. And whatever I can do to keep us out of foreclosure, I’m determined to do. So, no more late nights with my nose in a book. I have work to do…and vows to keep. In short, I have to get back on that wagon and honor those vows.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/9fymzf-medical-leave?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link-tip&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

Appreciation, Books, Christianity, Culture, Exhaustion, Faith, Forgiveness, Gratitude, Prayer, Reading, Scripture, Sleep Deprivation, Spirituality, Understanding, Writing, Yoga & Fitness, YouTube

Overindulgence

Lisa Burbank

“When dining with a rich man, be on your guard and don’t stuff yourself, though it all tastes so good; for he is trying to bribe you, and no good is going to come of his invitation.” (Proverbs 23:1-3)

Okay. No, I haven’t sat down with a rich man…or woman. I didn’t stuff myself either. And I doubt anyone is trying to bribe me. However, I did overindulge just a little yesterday…in the pleasure-reading department.

Normally, during Lent, I don’t bother to give myself the allowance of having Sunday as a free pass day. I continue to follow, to the best of my abilities, the Lenten obligations that I’ve given to myself. The rationale has always been that I’m liable to have a tougher time getting back into the groove, so to speak, come Monday morning.

Boy, have I ever!

I told myself no Facebook, outside of wishing loved ones a “Happy Birthday!”; no YouTube, except on Sunday, and no fictional reading, also except on Sunday. So I rented a book from the library (my day job) last Wednesday–Ash Wednesday–as one-part an immediate slip regarding giving up novels for 6 weeks, and one-part a temptation (as if working in a library full of books isn’t enough of one…) to see if I could avoid it.

I did.

I didn’t read the novel I checked out until Sunday afternoon.

All day.

And into the evening.

And I suppose I did “cheat” a little because I was still reading said novel at 2:00 a.m. when I finished it from cover to cover.

Needless to say, I did NOT get up early and get on the yoga mat, or write anything at 3:30 a.m. I slept later–still without getting enough sleep–because “later” was 7 a.m. That is the latest I can do before I push my goats off of their feeding schedule. Now I’m sitting here yawning, a bit over-tired, and thinking that maybe I was wrong about one thing: I actually CAN string two or more words together in the evening; might be a good way to develop it into a more sustainable habit as 3:30 a.m. isn’t. At least not when you’re staying up late on a reading marathon…which I’m liable to do even during “ordinary” time.

Maybe I should go back to my usual plans and save the novels until after Lent…even on Sundays.

May God bless you & keep you!

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