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Tag Archives: Farming

I Am Enough

09 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Acceptance, Adulthood, Farming, Fear, High School, life, Loneliness, Maturity, Reflections, Tomboy

I used to be afraid of seeing people I knew from growing-up in this town. When I visited my parents, I would dive behind displays in the supermarket, or turn my head when someone I knew was nearby.There is so much in my childhood/teenage years and early adulthood that was absolutely horrible. My relationship with peers was always very tumultuous. I felt weird, odd, strange and always felt like I never really belonged or fit-in.

I seemed to skip-over the teenage years, and didn’t understand what it meant to relax and have fun. I was always on-edge and lonely. I hated high school rallies, sports games, events, etc. I couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so happy while I was so miserable. Because I didn’t understand it, it all seemed fake to me. Everyone seemed fake and I didn’t know how to relate to that.

As I’ve grown-up I’ve started to have a better understanding for what happened in those years, why I was affected the way I was, and have had a better appreciation for the people who were around me at the time.

I have also grown in confidence. Being in the city has helped with this. There are far too many people in a large city for people there to be bothered judging them. Living in a place that, in comparison, is so free from judgement and harsh opinions, was liberating.

Thousands of people walked-by you every day dressed in all-manners of clothing, different levels of attractiveness, poor, rich, dirty, clean…and they were all the same; just another person you were passing on the street.

It is in the city where I began to feel confident wearing tank tops and shorts. I saw woman of all shapes and sizes just dressing to be cool and comfortable on hot summer days and didn’t hear one negative comment from any of the hundreds of people around, about how they looked and I realized – I could do that too.

I remember as a child/teen always wanting to be as “cool” as the “town kids”. The “town kids” had all the “in” name brands: Club Monaco, The Gap, Adidas and even B.U.M. Equipment. I don’t think I owned anything that was name-brand until I finally begged my mother to the point she bought me a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt for Christmas. But, my wiener dog, Gus, chewed-up the ‘U’ and my mom decided to stuff the ‘U’ with cotton and patch it with floral material. I hated it, but felt so guilty and pressured to wear it after all her work, that I did. But, I’m sure my ability to ‘fit in’ took several hits for the cause.

The “town kids” also didn’t smell like a barn when they arrived at school. I lived on a farm and did my share of barn chores (mostly shovelling poop), which meant that I always had a bit of a “barn smell” on my skin and clothing. I don’t really know if other people smelled it, I never asked, or if I was just self-conscious about it. But, it is one reason I found it difficult to get out of my comfort zone to hang-out with peers.

I also was a tomboy who never cared for, or bothered, to learn about things like doing hair, makeup, nails, plucking eyebrows, etc. It just didn’t interest me. There were so many other things to do with my time, like climbing trees, going out on the 4-wheeler, milking the cows, raking the hay and playing music.

The ironic thing about this whole period of time is that I thought that I was the one being judged harshly, but have come to understand that I was doing the judging myself. I judged my peers as being fatuous and shallow and determined that I was above that.

There were, at times, reason to feel this way. We were teenagers, after all, but I’m sure now that if I could have been outside of myself and looking at myself on occasion, I would feel the exact same way about me.

Though, I also did a lot of my “teenage stuff” before I was an actual teenager: I skipped school, got in fights, had boyfriends, fooled-around, tried beer and cigarettes, all before grade 9. During Grade 9 I did a bit more of it, and was kind of in one of the ‘cool groups’ (I even participated in a Homecoming float). But, by the end of Grade 9 I guess I just felt ‘over it all’.

I became a bit of a loner. I was just ready to get on with life. I wanted to be an adult, to be a successful writer, musician or University professor. I wanted to be full of knowledge and experience, having traveled the world and lived-through adventure upon adventure.

And here I sit, 15+ years later, having gained knowledge, experience, traveled and lived-through adventure upon adventure, and I’ve returned to this place, where it all began, changed and yet, in many ways, the same.

I still have no interest in town gossip, or want to be friends with people who think it’s ok to be mean to others and I still love to be a tomboy, spending time outside getting dirty, or doing heavy work. But, I no longer think of myself as an “outsider” or feel the need to hide behind shelves at the store if I see someone from my past.

I know now that I am a person, just like everyone else. I have things that are really fantastic about me, things that are unique and totally loveable, and I have things that are annoying about me and things that are weaknesses. And it’s ok.

It’s me.

When I was younger, I never felt like I was enough. It is still something with which I struggle. It’s a common affect of being a child that has gone-through divorce.

But, now I know better. I know that I am me. I am myself.

And I am enough.

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Old ‘Tom’s’ Funeral

12 Thursday May 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Adventure, Death, Discovery, Farming, Funeral, Memory, Reflection, Stories, Writing

She climbed-up the hay bale with little difficulty and perched on top of it. She looked-out over the farm and realized that she loved this place with every fiber of her being. The farm had been an anchor to her tumultuous life and had provided stability and safety to her from the moment she had arrived.

Let us also not forget about adventure.

Since arriving on the farm she had lived a wondrous life full of new experiences, challenges, growth and adventure.

She conducted her first funeral on this farm when she found an old, male, cat dead in a field and determined that he deserved a more fitting departure than just rotting alone in a field.

It was a gloomy spring day and the ground was still partially frozen. She had been out wandering around, listening to the “Counting Crows” and reflecting on how perfectly the music suited the colours in the sky when she had come-upon the cat carcass.

It seemed sad to her that something that once had life in it, that moved, hunted, ate, played, slept and felt, was now just lying there lifeless and, if she hadn’t found it, forgotten.

Upon deciding that she would give the cat a proper burial, she trudged back to the house to fetch a shovel, a Bible and a hymn book. Having collected these items, she bundled herself up, gathered a couple of dogs to sit with her to pay homage and headed back to the spot where the cat carcass lay.

As she dug a hole in the frozen ground, she had to teach the dogs that the carcass wasn’t a play-toy. Once she had convinced them all to just sit still beside her quietly, she commenced the memorial service.

She opened: “Friends, we have gathered here today to say goodbye to…” and she realized that she didn’t know the cat’s name.

“Tom.” The name suited him nicely, she thought.

“Life is short and for poor, ‘Tom’, it was too short. I will miss him.” She stopped here and cried a little bit. It’s not that she was particularly close to ‘Tom’ or knew him well, death itself was sad and she couldn’t help but be touched by its presence.

“We think about all those who knew him and loved him most”, she continued. “We pray that they will find comfort at this time.”

And, looking at the dogs who were known to, sometimes, terrorize the cats, she added “And you must all do your part to help them at this time. Be nice to the cats, it’s a tough day for them.”

Sammy, the dominant male Samoyed looked up at her with, what seemed to be, a guilty but resigned look of agreement.

“Now, I will read Psalm 23…”

As she read, she paused dramatically to give all those in attendance time to reflect on the words and how they pertained to the life of dear, old, ‘Tom’.

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…” She stopped reading again to observe all that existed around her. Taking a deep breath of the farm fresh air her eyes settled on the cattle which were slowly moving around the field to the right of her.

It is grey and dreary right now, life seems to be moving in slow motion, but soon these fields will be green and teeming with life.

She realized she had wandered-off to her own thoughts and that the dogs were sitting there, patiently, waiting for the Psalm to continue.

She went on.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” and now she was sobbing.

The shadow of death. It sounds so cold and lonely. I hate to think that ‘Tom’ was afraid and alone, passing through the shadows. What a terrible way to be. I hope that I never have to experience that kind of fear. People do every day. Lord, how horribly sad.

And now, she came to notice that a couple of the more compassionate dogs had snuggled in closer to her, aware that she had been crying. Belle, the most gentle Old English Sheepdog that you could ever meet, had come up and rested her head in the young girl’s lap.

“I’m sorry, everyone” she stated. And giving them each a hug she added: “I will never let you die alone.”

She finished reading the song and then declared: “Now, as I lower the body into the ground, join with me in singing ‘Amazing Grace’.”

When she had finished the song she picked up a handful of dust and scattered it over the cat carcass proclaiming: “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Enjoy your final resting place, ‘Tom’. We love you.” And with that, she covered him up with the earth.

She took several steps backwards and sat down. She was exhausted.

Death is tiring.

She turned her Walkman on again and exhausted, she lay back onto the frozen ground, staring into the sky and felt her body became heavy as she drifted into dreamland.

“When I think of heaven
Deliver me in a black-winged bird
I think of dying
Lay me down in a field of flame and heather
Render up my body into the burning heart of God
In the belly of a black-winged bird”  (“Rain King”-Counting Crows)

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