As I write today, it is Rainbow’s 23rd birthday. We’ve been together a long time. I remember when I first met Rainbow and his half-brother, Inka, when they were tiny babies, still with their mamas. They were in a herd of over thirty llamas and yet, those two boys were mine and I knew it. So, today I am celebrating Rainbow and giving him anything he wants
In September we lost Oreo, our precious sixteen-year-old goat. He was old but he was doing so well and looking great. Then suddenly he was gone. Oreo was my sweet big man with the soft baritone voice that seemed to croon rather than bleat. It was hard to lose him. Oreo and Moon were my first goats, my teachers, and my great loves.
Then in October we lost our little princess goat, Coco Dove, who was only nine. True to form for goats, by the time we realized that she was seriously ill, it was too late to change things. It was devastating to let that little girl go.
When Coco came to us, she was only a couple of days old, only a few weeks younger than Monkey and a perfect companion to grow up with him. She had been rejected by her mother and either kicked or stepped on, so her eye was infected, she had a head tilt, and she could barely walk. I used to coax her to walk six feet to me and she would work so hard at it but she’d do it and be so proud of herself. Her head tilt corrected itself and she was able to walk and run and jump like any other goat before long. She never did regain the sight in her eye but she never let that stop her.
One of my favorite memories is when Coco and Monkey were about six months old. We were teaching them to jump up on big buckets and to go from one bucket to another one. Coco didn’t seem interested but Money was working hard at it. He could jump up on the first bucket but couldn’t go from one bucket to the other. After a few minutes of this, Coco, who we thought hadn’t been paying attention, made a disgusted snort, jumped up on the bucket and then from one bucket to the other without a bit of hesitation. Then she jumped off and turned to all of us as if to say, “That’s how you do it!” And that’s how she was her whole life.
In the spring I had contacted Southeast Llama Rescue to find a friend for llama, Shanti. They had no available llamas at the time but we took in a mama alpaca and her cria. We were still waiting for Shanti’s friend to come when, shortly after we lost Coco, SELR called about two llama girls that had been surrendered. I immediately said yes. Soon Star and Luna arrived to complete the herd. What a joyful sight they were/are. They are very big girls, and beautiful, and sweet, and kind. Just amazing, perfect additions.
I’ve never lost as many loved ones, one after the other, as this year. It’s been emotionally confusing and overwhelming. I would go into a space of deep grief, and then look at the animals still here and I’d be so grateful and so happy. Then I’d start missing Moon or Oreo or Paco or Bella or Coco and it would hurt so much. But, our four new additions are all just amazing and wonderful and give me so much joy. Back and forth, up and down, truly like a roller coaster.
And it happened in a year where the world seemed to be filled with chaos and fear and anger and there was one stress after another, so that every day was filled with angst that really had nothing to do with the animals. I felt that things would somehow settle down and become normal after the election. Instead, I realized that the problems are much deeper than one election can change. At first, I was dismayed to see with such clarity how deeply divided our country is and I felt helpless in the face of it. How can we heal this division when we can’t even talk to each other? Where do we even begin?
I realized that the only thing I can even remotely control (and I use that word “control” lightly because I know we never truly have control over anything) is my own life. My thoughts, my actions, the energy I put out—these are the things I can focus on and direct toward the healing of our country, of our planet. It starts right here, with me. Yes, I’ve known this, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt it as acutely as I do right now. Right here is the place to start.
I am grateful that at times I am caught up in the tides of emotion, the roiling, rioting dance of being human. And I’m also grateful that I can stand back and see it clearly from a deeper perspective, that I can choose another path. Both are part of this human journey we are on and I have to keep reminding myself that “we are all one” does not mean that we are all the same. I know there is a space in all of us that knows and understands this and is able to see and accept all sides without judgment.
Well, I have a long way to go, that’s for sure, so I am starting right now. In this new year to come I intend to be more open to all sides, to embrace peace, and gratitude, and truth, and joy, and love—especially love. And with this letter, I send it all out to you.