"Sometimes, to someone lonely, there comes something which serves as a wondrous balm. It is not a voice, not even a sound. It is the smile of women, which like the light of perished stars, is still on it's way." - Marie Rilke
Winter is lonely sometimes, in a way that spring and summer can never be. It can be hard and cold as diamonds, and even the brilliance of stars in the deep, black night sky feels like ice, not comfort. We struggle to pull ourselves out of our dreams and the warm covers and into the deeply unappealing cold of the apartment. I've resolved to make a morning ritual for myself that will beckon me to get up in the still dark hour and get my day started; my new cranial-sacral healer, Becca, helped me think of this.
I plan, no, I Resolve, to get up with the alarm (cat generated or Nora Jones CD on the clock/radio), throw on my robe and house shoes, stumble over to the couch and turn on the radiant heater, splash water on my face and rinse out my morning breath, get the tea pot boiling, and snuggle under a blanket on the couch until I'm ready for the day. It takes a lot of resolve to get that far, but I'm sure I'll get a lot of satisfaction out of taking charge like that. It's also necessary, so I can be ready to work as a substitute in the schools, once I start getting calls.
Sometimes I wonder why we bother making plans; they so often get blown to pieces by new realities, right? The simple answer is, if we didn't make plans, little would get accomplished, other than the simple necessities of life, and in truth, they can easily fill the days of our lives: washing clothes, washing our selves, feeding ourselves, cleaning up our messes, getting to and from places where we meet friends and do errands and get exercise... We need plans to break our routines, inspire us and give us hope. Mark and I plan on buying a small piece of acreage in the valley; now those plans are on hold.
Our beautiful valley, with one of the highest numbers of organic farms per acre in the United States, is under threat from oil and gas companies, for exploration and drilling. I had no idea what that could mean until we moved here, to the Western Slope. Have you seen the movie "Gasland", or read about the health risks Fracking presents? If the energy companies get their way, our plans for buying property here may be dashed. And what about the hard working farmers in the area, who've staked their life's claim on their organic acreage?
Other communities have fought the onslaught of drilling companies, and nearly all have lost. And we are not even allowed to know who nominated these particular parcels, until after the sale has taken place this August... if indeed it does take place. We are hoping that the newly documented dangers of fracking will buy us time to protect our valley. It makes no sense to drill now, when experts admit that the price of Natural Gas is too low to make new drilling profitable. Why risk our water supply, clean air and natural beauty for the possibility of hitting the jack pot, when they know it's not likely to yield gold?
Another truth I just learned is that even when the EPA finds that indeed, fracking by energy companies has directly poisoned the water in a community, such as in Pavillion, Wyoming, they cannot undo the damage. They can agree to provide clean drinking water - trucked in; and guess who pays the bill? Taxpayers. The Energy companies get the profit, and we pay for the remediation - but there is no fix.
What's the underlying game plan here? To ruin rural communities, and suck all remaining funds out of the middle class?
Here's the real gold - healthy communities, willing to think outside the box and use our resources wisely. This was taken on a bike ride just outside of Paonia. And speaking of low-impact travel, I saw a neighbor ride by our studio window today in a cart pulled by his horse! It seemed wonderful, somehow... why not?
I plan, no, I Resolve, to get up with the alarm (cat generated or Nora Jones CD on the clock/radio), throw on my robe and house shoes, stumble over to the couch and turn on the radiant heater, splash water on my face and rinse out my morning breath, get the tea pot boiling, and snuggle under a blanket on the couch until I'm ready for the day. It takes a lot of resolve to get that far, but I'm sure I'll get a lot of satisfaction out of taking charge like that. It's also necessary, so I can be ready to work as a substitute in the schools, once I start getting calls.
Moonrise over the Raggeds, from Fire Mountain Farm
Sometimes I wonder why we bother making plans; they so often get blown to pieces by new realities, right? The simple answer is, if we didn't make plans, little would get accomplished, other than the simple necessities of life, and in truth, they can easily fill the days of our lives: washing clothes, washing our selves, feeding ourselves, cleaning up our messes, getting to and from places where we meet friends and do errands and get exercise... We need plans to break our routines, inspire us and give us hope. Mark and I plan on buying a small piece of acreage in the valley; now those plans are on hold.
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| Skiing on Grand Mesa on Mark's 54th birthday! |
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| A Paonia street in the snow |
Another truth I just learned is that even when the EPA finds that indeed, fracking by energy companies has directly poisoned the water in a community, such as in Pavillion, Wyoming, they cannot undo the damage. They can agree to provide clean drinking water - trucked in; and guess who pays the bill? Taxpayers. The Energy companies get the profit, and we pay for the remediation - but there is no fix.
What's the underlying game plan here? To ruin rural communities, and suck all remaining funds out of the middle class?
Here's the real gold - healthy communities, willing to think outside the box and use our resources wisely. This was taken on a bike ride just outside of Paonia. And speaking of low-impact travel, I saw a neighbor ride by our studio window today in a cart pulled by his horse! It seemed wonderful, somehow... why not?
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