Limits

Busy, busy.  So much to do.

Some critter got in the garden the other night and vandalized it.  So, Sal had to apply triage-type care on it.  She put in some new plants from a neighbour’s garden donor bank and re-established what she could.  We felt violated.

Oooohhh…….man against nature, eh?  It can get ugly out here.  But we shall prevail!

I am a few planks short of a full load it seems.  Literally.  Can’t get started until I come up with some 16-footers I failed to order first time around.  Only need six.  “A stick!  My studio for a stick!”

Roadway slope at the end of the road was completed.  Finished pictures to follow. We still have some lower (and maybe upper) pathway improvements to do and a small ‘dock/pier’ to build but one day of work should put it right. This is a major improvement.

The locals held a talking stick circle (TC) the other day.  Fashioned after the First Nations tradition, everyone sits in a circle and passes a stick around.  Only the person holding the stick can speak.  But not everyone does.  If they have nothing to say, they just pass the stick on.  And around the stick goes for as long as it takes for all the opinions, thoughts, news and such to get around.  It’s a good idea.

Kinda.

Sal and I didn’t go to this one.  Sal was under the weather and I was dissuaded by our previous experience at the last one (a few talkers went on and on and on…….and on….and on. I seem to recall – just before I passed out – that one of them was performing a very long version of a free-form poem that he had written.) and by the fact that we had so much else to do.  Especially that day.  I really had no time to hear someone ramble on unchecked about something of no interest to me.  And, of course, I have come to learn that, armed with a stick, I can go on and on unchecked about things of no interest to others.

I would modify the traditional proceedings if it was up to me.  I would give everyone a stick but one person.  The person without a stick talks.  If they go on too long, everyone hits them with their stick.  Then the monologues would move along better.

The talking circle was a good idea in its time but forest dwellers mingle more these days and most of us have modern communication devices from radio phones to telephones to internet  We are not so reliant on such quaint or traditional methods anymore.

‘Course, nothing beats face to face communication and so the TC still has a place.  But not for me.  Not now while summer is almost full on, anyway.

Plus – I think we are all getting on and, you see, we older types tend to get set in our ways, get a bit grouchy, grow easily impatient and, quite frankly, are uncomfortable sitting for long periods of time. We have no time anymore for any nonsense.  And even if it is not such nonsense – we tend to think it is.  It is the curmudgeons way.

As a mediator for almost twenty years I also learned that no meeting, no matter how fascinating, can hold the interest of even the most focused person for more than two hours and most of us have mentally checked out after 90 minutes.  It is no accident that movies are the length they are and the last few minutes is where all the action is.

Talking circles don’t have much action.  They are not supposed to.

And, on a beautiful June Day with so much to do, would I willingly sit inside and listen to other people’s opinion’s?  I don’t think so.  Maybe I should but I barely listen to other people’s opinions at the best of times.  And even that would be with those with the best of minds.  I won’t comment on the minds in attendance at our talking circles but, suffice to say, long-winded, free-form poetry is just not an art form I have learned to appreciate.

9 thoughts on “Limits

  1. Those circles are a challenge to one’s stick-to-it-iveness. Some folks like to hear themselves talk, others like gazing at their anus and some try to talk and gaze at the same time. Onanism by any other name.

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    • There is no challenge. ‘Cause I won’t go. I have already surrendered. I have stick-to-iteness but not to the extent of putting my hand on a red hot stove and, trust me, that would happen before I attended another talking circle. Water-boarding is a picnic by comparison. Waterboarding with one hand also placed on a hot stove…………that is about the same.

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  2. That’s the downside of living in small communities if you value your privacy. You have to socialize with the community and reveal your life story to them (or fake it) or risk being ostracized and shunned as a snob. Everybody’s business is everybody’s business. On the other hand it’s pretty easy to be anonymous and preserve your personal privacy here in the city. That is of course if you can handle the general feeling of anxiety and desperation that pervades the place. (doesn’t bother me)

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    • I never used to value my privacy. ‘Cause misery loves company, I guess. But now that I am happy, well, I want to keep all that happy for myself. And I have found that, even if I want to share my happiness, most people aren’t interested in my version of it. In other words, happiness is a personal, individual state of mind. Hard to share that kind of thing.

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  3. Some critter? Some….?

    It was obviously the squirrel you tried to electrocute…. He told you he would have his revenge.

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    • You are right. We blame the squirrel. Like government, the squirrel can do nothing right. In actual fact the garden was torn up and trampled by an animal with dog-like footprints. But the garden is in tall boxes and Meg is too old to jump up now. And Fid was barking at the intruder at the time. My conclusion: the squirrel was having it’s way with our lettuce and Fid eventually went up after it causing more damage than the squirrel. I concluded all this after the investigative maxim of good ol’ Sherlock Holmes who pointed out that the deed in question was NOT marked by the barking dog ’cause the dog did NOT bark at the time thus indicating familiarity with the culprit. Ergo: the squirrel did it!

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  4. Mark your boundary Farley Mowat style and get yourselves some bone meal and spread it around the garden deer hate it. Smells like death to them and it’ll make yon garden grow. Carnivore urine is available at http://www.predatorpee.com and is a collection of urine from bobcats, coyotes, foxes and wolves. In theory, it sends a message to animals that a meat-eating animal is roaming the garden.

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