Paula, my wonderful Paula.
She looks at me with her big brown eyes, and there is nothing I can do for her, nothing at all.
The runt of the group, last on the pecking order, always last to the meal no matter how many feeding boxes I lay out, she belongs to the herd and knows her place.  The smallest girl, a delicate little face, she walks awkwardly in the paddock.  I thought it was her frame, but our breeder reckoned she is a little rickety.  Part of me has resented a little, the way things are, just a little.  But she seems ok with it all. 
When Sunny had her baby, Shelly, Paula was a great aunt.  What a wonderful thing to see, but still, she is on the outskirts.  Two years with no apparent pregnancies, how happy I was when Warrior arrived and Paula was mated.  When all was said and done, Warrior walked off to the other girls, and Paula behind, rushing to his side, smitten.  He turned around and spat.  He had other girls to attend to now.  Poor Paula!  I felt her little heart break.
Seasons went by, and Paula is pregnant.  No one else, only our little Paula.  How happy was I, It couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.  She will have her own baby, her own little fluff ball.  No longer an auntie on the outskirts, she is now the centre of her own reality.
As the months went by, Paula got bigger.  She also became more assertive in the herd, as mothers do.  ‘Good on you, Paula’, I thought to myself.
And when the time came she had a perfect birth, delivering a perfect little boy, Sammy.  I would joke when I saw him, how perfect he was.  ‘All his dad, that’s for sure… ‘ And of course, Paula was a perfect mum.
A couple of weeks went by, Warrior was back to service the other girls, and Paula with Sammy by her side, is outside the loop, for all the right reasons this time.
And then came that terrible night.  The dogs barked ferociously, trying to get to the other side of the fence.  I thought we had an intruder in the shed, but found nothing.  Less than an hour later it was time to take everyone in.  As I went to the girls I saw a herd scattered.  Millie and Sunny were in one corner.  Paula was already inside, alone.  And Sammy was gone. 
I felt the chill spread through my body.  We looked all night, but couldn’t find him.  Deep down I knew it couldn’t be good.  Had he been alive somewhere, she would be with him.  That night, she sat and looked towards the shed, and cried.  And I cried with her.
I saw the strange dogs the following morning, in the paddock with Warrior, Carla, and Charlotte.  Charlotte was bleeding.  After the owners came and took their dogs away we continued to search.  I so hoped Sammy had scattered in the chaos, yet to be found.  We found his little white lifeless body just before noon.  His back lacerated, and his neck broken.  If only I had understood what my dogs were telling me last night!
A couple more weeks have passed.  Warrior died last week.  A stomach tear.  Suspected stress injury.  Charlotte has recovered well, and I believe she would not have been so lucky had Warrior not been there with her.  And Paula still cries, not as much as before, but she still cries.  So do I.
Father and son are dead.  If we have new pregnancies, Warrior will live on with us.  But when they are born, Paula will not be one of the mums.  She will be alone another season.  And I look into her beautiful big brown sad eyes, and I know I can’t help her.  This couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl, and there is nothing I can do for her, nothing at all.  And I look to the gods and wonder: where is your diamond now?

I knew I needed to come in, accepting your invitation.
'I never felt comfortable with Duality.  I have always been more of a full-spectrum person'.
You looked at me puzzled.
'We are all connected, we are one'.

Later I saw it:
We stretched out, away from our source.
Reaching out to grasp illusion.
With perceived separation came perceived independence, 
And with it, our mortal fear.
For what is duality
But perspective
Of a confused child
​Mortally afraid of being alone.

I was reading ‘Fires and Floods’ again.  I wanted to remind myself what could possibly be a good explanation to our existence and situation here.  I don’t mean Robertson, although that is acutely, a fair question.  I mean this world; this cruel, vicious, unexplainable place, a punishment if ever there was one.

I don’t want to sound like a broken record.  This dog-eat-dog world cannot come good, it can’t possibly, not the way it is set up, self-devouring, leaving us feeling alone and afraid, always.
​
Cory died last night.  It was a violent death.  Loud, and painful.  Horrible.  When I left her to check on the chicks, I felt I was disconnecting when I shouldn’t.  When I came back to hear her loud choking, it was almost too late.  When I picked her up I felt her little heart racing.  Not long after she was gone.  I don’t even know if she knew I was there.

Every chick that hatches is a sombre event.  I don’t know what I am hatching them to.  What sort of place, what sort of life?  Everything is awful.  Giving up and having a ‘fuck you’ attitude seems to be the only way to maintain sanity in an insane world.  Not expecting anything in a world that is sure to devastate seems the only way to stay honest and true to myself.

And amidst all this: The diamond.  The tree.  Bazit.
'Fires and Floods' and countless other events, huge and loud, tiny -almost unrecognisable,  whispering to me again and again that we are not alone.  We are loved.  Someone is watching, staying with us.  Are they hugging us the way I hugged Cory last night?  While we barely notice they are there, unable to heal and ease our pain, despite their love for us?  Are our gods as powerless to help us as we are to help our children, let alone ourselves?
What an odd, strange, horrible existence.
What a terrible world we live in.

As life’s brutality chuggs along, relentlessly hurting at every twist and turn, I see Love.  The more vicious life’s inflicted pain, the more clearly Love’s presence seems to be.  Untouched, unhindered, merely there.  What is there to do but connect with its warmth, its presence, in hope that it wraps its wings around me and somehow, protects me from the hurt.

What an odd path, what a strange type of lesson.  I don’t understand, but feel that Connection is my Yellow Brick Road.  When in doubt, when lost, connect.  I know how to do that; I have done so all my life.  My inherent connection to everything is my truth.  How it relates to just about everything else I don’t know.  But if I return to it again and again, through every twist and turn of fate, maybe I will allow it to flood my being, finally, and show me my way.
​
My lessons come at a trickle.  Little miracles happen and settle in my mind, like little sparkling jewels, waiting to be noticed, their beauty witnessed, and understood.  I don’t understand much, but slowly, I notice.
 
Love is a Life Force,
Circumstances might colour its expression,
Shape its manifestation,
But its flow is perpetual,
Unhindered by our confusion.
 
Through our pain,
We are still able to spread joy to others. 
Especially when our actions are motivated by love.  

It has been a long time since I wrote anything here (at least it was, when I originally wrote this).  My faith-filled blogs gave way to this one, where darkness and despair seem to be the main theme.  Things have continued to be difficult and life relentlessly punishing.  As things progress, disaster after disaster, heartbreak after devastation, I find myself scratching my head in bewilderment and wondering, WHY?

And throughout, when I look outside my window, where lush colourful nature all around me speaks of beauty and life and joy, I am deeply puzzled, unable to marry the two realities I find myself in.

In hindsight, life has been cruel from the day we arrived here, when the removalists destroyed everything we owned.  Much happened since; Natural disasters and human corruption laced our paradise, but for the first few years we justified those away, filled with enthusiasm and joy of our new found path.

The fires of 2019 were tough, and the immediate flooding, black outs, and imminent neighbourly aggression that soon followed were the beginning of a breaking point.  To be faced with the harsh evidence of blatant human dishonesty, on such a widespread scale, was horrifying even for me, who has so little faith in human nature.  There is no point in detailing these events here, suffice it to say that months of battles, lawyers, threats, and subsequent financial erosion, took their toll.
​
But somehow, after coming back from an emotional brink, I began to heal despite the ongoing difficult circumstances in which we find ourselves.  (Maybe it was the shock of the events that started to fade, I don’t know).  After a while I wondered how come I was able to deal with these hits relatively well.  I concluded that to have my girls in my life, a part of my life I consciously kept positive, always, a refuge of love, connectivity, and life, had given me the strength to deal with the rest of it.

And then life struck.  My girls the next target of life’s cruel ways.  Overwhelmed by parasites and predators from every direction, one of the brightest lights in my life was all but extinguished.  Darkness and a chill of horror entered deep into my being.  A chill I had never experienced before.

Many months of battles, and I am still battling.  Another challenge to add to a very long list I have not detailed here (there is no point), that may very well defeat me.  This is the one that got me straight in my heart.  This is the one that saw me finally lose faith in all that I ever connected with, nature and creation as a whole.  Life’s universal energy flow, the cosmic smile, creation’s love -the gods had betrayed me.
​
Ironically, the more difficult things became in the past couple of years, the more I have discovered the strength of the love inside of me, and in the spirit of human nature.  Who would have thought?  Even our neighbour I now see as a fearful child, capable of love like us all, when fear doesn’t overwhelm us.  So many people have been through unimaginable horrors, and I think I now have glimpsed this human love they witness to, that has carried them through the darkest of times.  (Just a glimpse…) It’s a real thing, but in this world of puzzling contradictions I remain broken and without faith.
*********
The other day, when I was running around like a headless chook, trying to cater to my boys, my girls, my dogs; deal with the mouse jumping around in the sink (in parallel with the rodent plague infesting NSW’S west, we have a rodent infestation of our own…), and every other demand under the sun, trying to get too many things done in too short a time as usual; I looked down at my hand and saw my diamond ring stare back at me lifelessly, my diamond was gone.

I am not a jewellery person.  I only wear my wedding ring and this one, an unintentional set, one from my mum’s family, the other from my husband.  When I put them both on, they fit perfectly, meant to find each other.  When the diamond vanished, I felt as if a connection was severed between the two worlds, and a link between my mother, her family, and I, was taken.  It broke my heart.

I am not talking about the kind of devastation I have been describing previously.  But this got me where it hurts, and the gods seemed cruel to me, yet again.  Nothing more than an afternoon stint for them, but enough to remind me this wave of punishment is still flowing strong.

I did not have too much time to ponder over this, daylight was fading and we needed to tend to the animals.  ‘Mum, there’s a mouse in the sink’, my youngest called out to me.  ‘Yes, I know, I will deal with it in a minute’, I answered in agitation.

As I grabbed it in a container, ready to put in in the freezer (don’t go there, each to his own way of killing and I hate it either way), I felt like a hypocrite.  I will not be one of those people who cry bitterly over a stone, while taking a life without a second thought.  I sent Daniel out to start taking the chickens in, while I drove up the paddock to the farthest part of my property, hoping this mouse will head in a different direction, and sped back to get on with work.

Once night time came and the madness subsided, the deep sadness of my loss came back.  Hours went by, followed by days.  Whenever I touched my finger habitually, I was reminded that my diamond was gone.  I also thought about the mouse. 
I looked up to invisible gods: ‘Really, guys?  You had to take my diamond for that?  You couldn’t think of an easier way to save this mouse?’  Let’s face it, all it had to do was look in my eyes, it’s little squeak when I accidently pinched its tail with the box lid, and I would have let it go’.  Not good enough!

And of course, bargaining: ‘I would give 100 diamonds to save my girls without thinking twice!’  But I don’t have 100 diamonds, and I don’t know how to save them.

Every time I felt my finger, I saw myself turn my back to the gods in my pain.  Like Cricket did to us, feeling betrayed by what we had done to her. 
*********
I think of Cricket often.  She had a light, clear spirit that took over a room.

Cricket was the first, and to date, the only girl I lost to this parasitic pandemic we are having.  She got sick and thin early, long before I realised I had a widespread problem.  It was last Autumn, and the nights were cold.  So we treated her and took her inside.  She stayed in a little cage in the loungeroom and kept me company in the evenings.  When she started gaining weight, we let her out during the day to be with her flock, and back in at night.  She used to chat to us, and her company was wonderful.  The boys used to feed her crickets that escaped from Ashley’s tank (our bearded dragon), and so she was renamed.

Eventually she joined her flock.  But she began to deteriorate again.  We treated her with another medicine.  Two day in the water.  She hated it, and lost faith in us. She would turn her back to me quietly when I walked into the room.  I was so sad. 
​
Eventually she joined her flock again, improved, but went downhill for the last time, and was gone.  She died with us holding her, and I miss her and her incredible spirit.  I feel privileged to have had her in my life.
*********
Every time I found myself touching my finger, I was reminded my diamond was gone, and could not see a positive angle to this story.  I did not want to.  I turned my bruised body around, my back to the gods, cricket in my mind’s eye, (with a silent apology and hug to a beautiful girl).

And so another day or two went by.  My eldest, Adam, looked for the diamond in the backyard, where I was brushing Leo, but of course, it was futile.

Later that week I was filling up some buckets of water to take to the new paddock, now home to our chickens and other animals.  We are having problems with our water tank, so a ‘Little House in the Prairie’ reality prevails, and not in a good way…  I usually leave the buckets out for a couple of days to dry out, then shake out the leaves and bits that have fallen in and take them inside to fill up.  Being usually on auto mode, I don’t remember what I did with these ones, but after I filled up both buckets, ready to take them out to the paddock, I noticed something sparkling within.  Looking closer in the dim kitchen light, there was definitely something small and shiny at the bottom of the bucket. 
​
‘Surely not! No way!’  I thought to myself.  But sure enough, at the bottom of a full bucket of water, there it was, my diamond.  And beside it a little sliver of gold, -the claw in the ring’s setting that had broken off.  I couldn’t believe it!  Stunned by this surreal and unexpected turnaround, I left it in the water to show the family when they got back home.  I spent the next couple of days elated, and bewildered.  Weeks later, I still don’t understand.  Did my cold shoulder make you give it back?  Or is this your way of making sure I am paying attention, listening, when you tell me that no matter how painful life has become, you are here with me, that I am not alone?

​As the weekend progressed, things evolved.  Leo’s ear got worse.  My youngest got sick with the flu, and his asthma reared its ugly head, a rare event now days.  Of course, being a rare event, I did not have most of the medication on hand, nor any up-to-date prescriptions.

By Monday morning I was facing a clusterfuck of problems (excuse the French, but hey...)
My oldest had a specialist appt to attend in the afternoon, my youngest was rushed to the Dr for prescriptions, and was soon put on three different meds.  And my darling Leo, well: ‘If you want to bring him in for his ear this afternoon, do so, otherwise we’ll see him tomorrow morning.

‘How’, I asked Ben.  ‘I can’t be everywhere at once.  Who do I cancel?’
Leo had to wait.  My eldest got to his appt.  My youngest was happily doped out in front of his phone in bed.  The girls got tended to somehow, in and amongst everything else. 

I then turned my attention to preparation of tomorrow morning’s events.  Getting Leo to the vet is no easy task.  Just getting him into the car requires re-enforcements.  Getting him to the vet early, when my youngest is still sick and my oldest has an early class is trickier.  The girls had to get fed and watered before I left, as I had no idea when I will be back. I had already decided I will not leave Leo alone until he is under.  He would be too scared.  As Monday evening progressed, I felt my throat give way.  Great, the little twerp gave me his flu.  Sleep was crappy and my body ached.  Tuesday’s prospects just got worse! 

Tuesday morning arrived, the alarm clock sounding earlier than usual.  It didn’t matter, I was already awake.  The herbal tea I made the family over the weekend replaced my morning coffee- not bad, no wonder they wanted seconds.  I started getting ready.  As I filled up the water buckets for our new paddock (no tank, remember…) I felt some rain drops.  Great, it’s here early…

Feeling super off, confirming Daniel will be staying home another day while calling Adam to get up (again), I got the car ready.  Feeding the girls always takes a while.  I left it to last, and at that point stopped looking at the time.  Adam will be late for his lesson…
​
We were finally ready to get Leo in the car.  As expected, he wouldn’t budge.  Lifting his great big body is never easy, especially with him resisting.  You sort of have to lift his top half, drag him to the car, then nudge his bottom in, and hope it works… (got to love him!)

We were finally on our way, leaving a bewildered and sad Stormy behind.  After a quick school drop-off I headed to the vet.  Chris was waiting for us.  I went to the car, preparing to muzzle Leo, but he jumped out obediently, much to my surprise!  He then trotted off into the clinic and let me weigh him!?  (it’s been forever since that happened, a whopping 50 Kg.  Big boy!)  He then went into the room and waited patiently with me.  I told Chris I thought he was heaps better.  He looked at me.  ‘Check him yourself, you’re the expert’.  He gave Leo a decent all-round check, including his ears.  He pulled off the remaining scab on his foot (much to my horror, what if it’s cancer?), and checked his glands.

Then the moment of truth: ‘to be honest, honesty is always best’, he began.  ‘OH, no, what are you saying?’  ‘I think Leo is looking very good’, he continued.  ‘I was very worried about his leg last time, but it’s all better.  The lump on his jaw seems soft and benign.  I can cut it out and test it, but I am not sure if it’s necessary, for what may just be scar tissue from the bone event.  His ear is inflamed, and needs attention, but I don’t see any reason to put him under today’.  At no point in the scenarios that played in my mind did I see myself returning home with Leo now.  Stormy will be so happy!

And so it was.  I took Leo back to the car, he jumped in with no resistance, and I returned the muzzle to the front desk, unused.  He sat on the seat looking through the window (just a crack, as it was pouring outside) all the way home.  We arrived to find Stormy waiting at the gate in anticipation.  She stuck to Leo like glue as they ran off together.
​
I feel physically awful, and taking care of the animals in this rain is hard in these circumstances.  All I want to do is stay dry indoors in front of the fire.  But Leo, my Leo, you are OK!  Your ear will heal, and the rest is mere inconvenience.  My shining bright star!

I am afraid to write this.  The story I want to write has unfolded, but Leo’s condition is not yet determined.
​
We took the puppies to the vet a couple of weeks ago, for general check-ups and immunisations.  Leo had accumulated a few little things to be looked at: a lump under his bottom jaw (maybe to do with that bone that got stuck there a week before, poor thing), and a blister like nick on his foot.  It made him limp quite badly, maybe a bug sting, we thought.

By the time we got to the vet the limp was gone.  All’s ok, I thought.  The vet disagreed.  He was worried.  Turns out Leo’s toe was swollen and his gland was very large.  He put Leo on an aggressive dose of antibiotics, for all his various symptoms.  ‘If he is not completely better by the end of it, bring him back!’ He said.

At the end of the 10-day treatment Leo was fed up.  He ran away when I tried to give him the last pill, little bugger.  The lump in the jaw was mainly unchanged (depending on who you ask), the leg was improved, but not completely.

‘I wonder if it is as bad as that’, I said to Ben.  ‘Maybe we should get a second opinion’. 
While contemplating our options, I called the vet.   We booked an appointment for Leo early this coming week, for overall X-rays and ultrasounds under general anaesthetic.  ‘What are you thinking?’  I asked him.  ‘It could be a Melanoma.  If he is miraculously symptom free by Monday, call us and cancel’, he answered.

I got off the phone in a hurry.  I had a bunch of tradies due to arrive any minute.  The tree guys were already late.  The plumber arrived on time.  He was booked by the tank people, not me, arriving to quote a tank replacement reconnection.  The puppies were barking furiously as we inspected the site.  John, the plumber, looked at them and said: ‘We just lost our dog’.  I looked at him in horror and started tearing up.  Embarrassed, I explained that Leo may not be ok, we are testing, not sure yet.  And that’s 1.

‘What did he die of?’ I asked.  ‘Cancer’, john replied.  But we were miss-diagnosed twice.  ‘It took us 3 vets to get a proper diagnosis’.  By now we are both tearing up.  ‘The first two vets had no idea’, john continued.  ‘They kept giving us one wrong diagnosis after another.  All big stuff such as kidney failure, possible cancer.  It’s not like they said he had a splinter in his paw, each diagnosis was a shock’.  My eyes widened: ‘That’s why Leo is going in!  But it’s not trivial, apparently’.  And that’s 2.

John continued: ‘By the time we got him to the third vet he was thin and very tired.  The vet tried to fatten him up but it was too late.  He ran all the tests on him, X-rays, ultrasounds.  Turned out he had lung cancer, and in other parts of his body too.  There was nothing left to do but live out the bucket list with our boy before the end; lots of time together, beach trips, spoil him as much as we could’.  By now the tree people arrived, late.  The puppies were going crazy.  I asked them to wait, drying my eyes.  It was positively comic, the tree guys probably wondering what on earth was going on. 

Then John said: ‘The South African guy, in Southern Highlands Vet centre, he’s good’.  ‘You mean Chris?’ I asked.  ‘Yes, that’s him, Chris.  He’s a good vet.  He was the third vet that finally got it right’.  I stared at him in disbelief.  ‘I got off the phone with Chris just now.  He’s the one who will be testing Leo on Tuesday!’  Alright, Universe, you’ve got my attention.  And that’s 3.

I barely asked John any questions.  I didn’t tell him about Leo.  He just kept volunteering all this information.  The message was clear: Take Leo in on Tuesday.  Don’t mess around with this.  And forget about a second opinion, stick with Chris.

After everyone had left, I rushed to do some shopping in whatever time was left of the day.  Teary and distracted I kept forgetting things.  Leo, you’d better come good, we need you with us, you beautiful soul! 
 
******************
Over the weekend Leo developed an ear infection, he was sore and irritated.  By Monday I had Dave calling me to tell me he had to put his cat down, due to cancer.  Omg, where is this going?  All this doom and gloom.  Maybe this story will turn out to be another diamond?  Maybe.
​
(The Diamond post was due three posts ago, will post it soon).

I saw in my mind’s eye the path I had just come from, snaking out of the dark gully. 

A bruised statement of fact, a simple truth of the pain from which we are emerging, the pain into which our journey had led us, for no apparent rhyme or reason, except that such is life, sometimes.

The vision of this path just travelled, offering both genuine compassion and the mere suggestion that our lives are greater than the last few twists and turns they had taken.

A tender moment of Grace.

​Why do you keep calling me? 
Reaching out with golden hue of sunlight, through magical misty fog.  I feel you are hurting me, hurting my girls. Yet I feel you calling me home.

If I go out to you, will you hurt me again?
If I connect with you, respond to your call, will you help me heal?  Take me in your golden arms, and show me the way?  Will you help revive my girls, give them strength and show them happiness and health?  Will they be chubby again?
​
All that is happening here; Loss of our front yard, where I see you so much.  Our house falling apart.  Death everywhere.  My lovely girls suffering.  My sharp pain.  My boys struggling.  Ben.  Human assault from all directions, or so it feels.
Will you show me the way?
If I come out, will you?

I have seen too much death lately.  My heart is broken.

The part that is always repeated is the fight for breath, at the very end.  A struggle to hold onto our breath before our spirits finally departs our body.  Desperate gasping.  My experience is that release is peaceful, serene, wonderful.  But the moment before seems horrifying.  It must feel like drowning.

Our breath connects us to our body, and as it is, we are, here in this place.

My breath keeps going, my heart keeps beating.  I wake up every day to a self-consuming cruel and horrifying world.  I fall asleep every night, falling into blissful departure, but I keep waking every morning, returning to this place.

The daily pain now is unbearable.  When I wake my ‘reality’ welcomes me, with memories of days gone, predicting what lies ahead.  I breathe deeply through bruised pain, hoping it will heal me.  I call on my eternal being, a place past dreamworlds it’s home, to come and save me from this place in which I find myself.  What hope do I have?
​
‘Bring your spirit to this world’, I am told, ‘and it will be as you are’.
I don’t want to change this world.  I just want to go home.