confessional

Leonard and our new puppy (her little brother), Bobo, who is 4 and half months

There’s a funny thing that happens to me - I’m not a person who likes to share before I’m ready, though I do tend to share a lot and it might seem like things come spilling out, the truth is that those things have been percolating quite a while usually, before they make their way into the world. Well this morning I sat down to write the newsletter and what came out was a sort of confession to all of you supporters, all the doubts and insecurities that have been blowing and swirling around my mind the last few months finally found a way to be articulated.. it was such a relief and it was more and different than what I intend the newsletter to be, so I cut and pasted it over here in the blog and intended to come back and flush it out into a full post. And I finally did get back to it a few minutes ago - after doing chores and then spending a few hours trying to ease a pinched nerve I managed to tweak as I threw hay over a fence - well I sat down here and went to add a photo and then decided against that one and somehow got distracted and rather than discarding the photo, trashed the whole blog post and since I already cut it all out of the newsletter, everything I wrote is gone.

So now I’m left in that strange position of wondering if what I created and lost, is worth trying to recreate. Is it worth my time? Is it worth yours? And outside of and alongside that question, is whether I can recreate it in any resemblance to the original at all… because it’s almost as if once all that energy was finally released and found words, the pressure was gone… it’s out in the world and in a way, out of my mind, even if it’s disappeared from print. It’s not really gone from my mind of course but it feels less pressing and I suppose that’s because whether or not any of you actually read it, I imagined some of you reading it as I wrote, and that was as good as the same thing. It amounted to a confession and now I have the relief I needed.

fluffy bums

Some of you wise people do that with journals but I wanted to share it with you because in my mind, it concerns you… and the fact that Sweet Haven no longer exists in the vacuum of my imagination or the bubble of our actual physical space - it exists as a sort of virtual community and family and idea because that is how I’ve brought it into being, that is how it exists and is supported - and while I’m the facilitator, you all are the catalyst for so much of what Sweet Haven has become, for so much of what I spend my time doing.

And I question how I spend my time all the time, to be redundant and sardonic… it’s always at the back of my mind and along with the question of time, is the question of money..…. your money, your donations, how many donations are coming in, how many aren’t coming in, how much is going out, how much hay we’re averaging per day, how many bags of pig feed we use each week, how many bags of cat food… how much will the vet visit cost next week and on and on.

Because Sweet Haven is supported almost entirely by virtual friends donating from far-away places, and very few of you have ever visited, I often find myself wondering, as I’m out and about the place, what you would think if you could see it and be here… a thought that almost makes me shiver or flinch… because you see most of Sweet Haven at a micro level, photos of one animal at one moment in time… you don’t see the whole place as it is, piles of lumber that need sorting, garages that need cleaned out and organized, fencing that needs remade, gardens that are either overgrown or half-dead, raised beds that are rotting and falling apart, and animal manure everywhere. Chicken poo everywhere, piles of bedding and goat and sheep poo, the pile of donkey and pig poo… Annabelle’s cow pies…. and then there’s the cat poo which is a saga in itself!

managing poo - a big job!

One of Bobo’s earliest days here, he would creep closer and closer to Leonard after she was asleep, until he was touching

Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, maybe the insecurity is all in my head. Maybe you understand that piles of poo and fencing supplies and empty feed bags and twine are part of the deal and I’m only falling short of what I wish things would be - but it doesn’t stop me from comparing to what I think we should be and what I imagine and see that other sanctuaries are. Beyond being tidier and better landscaped and accessible, I see other sanctuary managers trimming the feet and tusks of 600 pound pigs in special contraptions or building walkers for chickens or constructing huge, safe enclosures that give their birds plenty of space but also total protection from predators and even more protection from disease … or the sanctuaries that have heated indoor facilities that get cleaned daily by employees and whose animals have employee and volunteer attention for hours each day, who have qualified vets either on staff or on call…. what do we offer - what do I offer - compared to that? There’s no sugar-coating it - not much.

So why are we here? What do we offer? Why should I ask you to support us?

I think I’m supposed to answer those questions in some compelling, or if not persuasive, then a poetic way - but I just honestly haven’t been sure of those answers. It’s true that there are just a handful of farm sanctuaries in Nebraska so I can assure you they’re needed. But am I the right person to run one? On soooo many levels, I am resoundingly NOT. And rather than becoming more comfortable in the role of manager or facilitator here, I’ve become more and more uncomfortable.

old Annabelle, our 17-year-old cow

It seemed simple at the start. Give some animals a good home. You have a barn. You have some grass. Keep some goats. That’s almost Buddhist in its beautiful pragmatism. So we kept some goats and I loved our goats and that made me want to give some more animals a better home. So we “saved” some old chickens. And I began to love the chickens. And then we found Tru donkey, in bad shape and needing saved… so she came and by then we had rescued our first litter of kittens, five brothers, and we needed Leonard dog to help us and things began to be a little hard to afford. We were still making it but only just…. but I loved all the animals and wanted to help more, so I thought, become a sanctuary - that makes sense, right? You’re already doing it, you just have to name it and file for the status and then people can help you save and care for and love animals. Simple.

Well I did the simple steps to incorporate as a nonprofit and gain tax-exempt status and animals just kept coming, a few at a time… and yes, there was more to it than just being here and existing - I had to show people we were here and existed and tell the story and ask for help and keep showing people and telling the story and that’s where I am, making art for and coordinating fundraisers and raffles and reminding you all that we’re here and trying to be honest but still appealing — and it’s not that simple, it’s not that easy and a lot of time, I don’t feel that good about it. Even though it started out for all the right reasons. I can’t help but question things like our carbon footprint, or how we’re affecting wildlife who lived here before we fenced everything off for “our” animals… what about the deer and rabbits and coyotes and wild birds who used this grassland before we were here? What about all the power we use to run heat mats, heated buckets, and heat lamps to keep our animals comfortable? I won’t even go into the quagmire of animal health concerns, and how I agonize over each issue that presents itself, whether or not I’m making the right call to seek medical help or not, how I chose to treat something, etc. Or how little time I have for myself, for things I used to love to do - gardening and walking and just being with Nettie.

It’s too much to share. It’s too much to ask you to read. And then again, it’s all here, below the surface of each post I make, each photo I share… it’s in the back of my mind each time one of you makes a $5 donation and it practically screams at me when one of you sends $100 - am I making the most, the best, of what you entrust to me? (What is the Best and why do I hold myself to that standard?) And how long can I maintain even this less-than-best standard??

I doubt that many of you will have read all of this, I can’t expect you to. But I wanted it out there, to clear the air and to clear my mind. I felt I had to share what’s really on my heart, or maybe deep in it, deep enough that it’s hard to articulate most of the time - the things that swirl around my inner cosmos and don’t usually materialize as words I share with anyone - because while for some of you, sending $50 every few months to help our animals doesn’t feel like a big deal and you don’t lose sleep over how it’s spent or how the individual animals are doing - it’s a big deal for me! So I want you to know that I take it seriously, arguably too seriously, and while I can’t make all the right calls or promise to be the best sanctuary, I can assure you my intentions are always good, and that I’m doing my best to make this work, for the animals, for my family, for you friends who care for us, and for me too. Thank you for being here and hearing my confession.

xo,

Rosanna

through a glass darkly

I think at one time I was fairly familiar with most of the new testament, including first Corinthians, which is where the phrase “through a glass darkly” originates - or at least in 1560, this translation of what Paul wrote emerged - and since then, has been used probably multitudes of times by different writers and artists. The full verse reads

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

– 1 Corinthians 13:12 (King James Bible)

Of course Biblical translations are a rabbit hole to fall into -- and that’s far from my intent - in fact I didn’t realize the phrase was biblical at all until this morning when I sat down with this series of photos I took a few nights ago and the phrase flitted into my mind - but wrongly - I remembered it as through a window darkly, which is not nearly so poetic and according to the original Greek of the passage, not really the type of glass Paul meant. The Greek word esoptron, which is translated to “glass,” actually refers to a kind of ancient mirror - and the word ainigma, which is typically translated to “darkly,” translates more correctly to enigma, as you might have guessed.

So the phrase is more truly translated as “for now we see in the mirror an enigma” which frankly, isn’t quite so beautiful, but it’s still thought-provoking and though not as fitting for my photos, isn’t so far from what I wanted to share today. And it occurs to me that during a particular period of time just before darkness swallows the horizon, the glass of windows becomes mirror-like if there is an indoor light source nearby, so that as we look out, our view is somewhat obscured by our own reflection. That seems like it should be symbolic but I think rather than try to parse it out, I’ll just let you ponder it or perhaps even just picture it in your mind for a moment as I’m doing.

I stand at these kitchen windows almost all the day except for when I’m out doing chores, and I stand here a good amount in the evenings though it’s not so pleasant to stand at the windows looking out onto darkness, or worse, seeing your own slightly hazy, glowing reflection in the artificial light. As I work at things or wash up dishes or prepare meals, I look out to check on the animals, or whatever animals I can see from my position. Of course I’d prefer that they were somehow all directly under my nose right in the middle of the front yard but needs must and I have my monocular and with it, I can pretty satisfactorily check on any outside activity, though I’ll confess I often run out to peek into buildings if I’m particularly worried.

I suppose it’s this worry and constant desire to supervise that is part of what I’ve been musing on these past few weeks, as we’ve passed from one calendar year into another - part of me knows that feeling the need to make significant changes because the year number has changed makes no real sense, but most of us are conditioned to try to make new habits or reevaluate our lives and situation in January and I feel the pull - it appeals to my desire to improve and refine in practical ways, which I suppose I can blame on my sun sign in Virgo.

The problem as I see it, and I think I see it hazily at best, because I am so invested in and overwhelmed by it, is that Sweet Haven is supremely impractical - it is the following of my heart’s calling, to the detriment of my mental and physical well-being - I have taken an idea that began as a children’s story, and incorporated that into my REAL LIFE. And to say it doesn’t quite fit is an understatement. It is uncomfortable, it is awkward, it is painful much of the time, and I’m beginning to see that Sweet Haven, in order to be sustainable, will need to change and evolve in some significant ways - in order to continue to exist and in order that I can continue to be part of it and not lose my sanity or health or both.

I don’t know how much you all think about your calling in life - but I used the term just a minute ago and I’ve been thinking about mine a lot because I’m afraid that my calling has always been to care for animals - since I was a tiny toddling child, my heart was with animals and I’ve written before about how I was never of the material to become a veterinarian or someone who helps animals in practical, life-saving ways like that. I don’t have the nerves for it. So when I began to needle-felt twelve years ago or something like that, and could bring little animals into the world and share my love for animals that way, I felt maybe I was finally finding a way to follow that calling.

Move forward in time several years and we decided to rescue two goats - we had the space and building for it - I’d always wanted to have a sheep or two - and of course once I saw old Lilly goat I had to bring her home here. About that time I had the idea for my story of Daisy the flying pig, who rescues animals and brings them to live at an old abandoned farmstead they name Sweet Haven. And then enter you all, who encouraged me to follow this progression where it was leading - and where it’s led is that Sweet Haven is now very much everything and more than what I ever imagined in my original story - as things tend to be in real life - much more complicated and intense and much more difficult for me to operate on a daily basis, while maintaining any of my other activities and passions, than I ever could have foreseen.

Because of course what I didn’t foresee, was how quickly it might grow, how much support it would require - and how much support IT WOULD RECEIVE - because if you all hadn’t responded to my appeals for support, Sweet Haven would still be what it was three years ago - two old goats and a few cats and that would have been that and fine and lovely too - - but you all threw your support behind Sweet Haven and me, and now, almost without my understanding how it happened, we have more than 80 animals in our care and to be perfectly honest, that is astounding to me and also completely exhausting and emotionally overwhelming.

During the period between August and December last year, I completely lost my balance - waking up at 4 am most mornings and continuing to work until Nettie and I went to bed around 10:00. Every day, no days off, ever. Bedtime became the only time of day I felt I really gave Nettie any undivided attention and in October, when it became clear to me that I was going to have to ride out the rest of the year at the pace I’d somehow set for myself, because I was committed to the animals and to all of you - I also resolved that I would NOT let this new year run away with me - that I would find a way to have some sort of balance for everything and everyone in my life - Nettie ought to come first of course, and I am doing better so far this year but I’m certainly not in the place I want to be, and that’s why I’ve decided to attempt to hire someone to help me.

This is a huge step for me, or feels like one - I don’t give up my commissions unless under EXTREME duress, so you can be sure that I’m pretty desperate to consider taking on help in this way. It goes against all my super-controlling, micro-managing instincts - but I recognize that I’m outnumbered - there are too many things demanding my time and so my challenge this year will be not only raising enough funds to provide for a wage to pay this helper, but also, releasing that control and trusting someone else to care for my Sweet Haven family, at least several times a week.

This photo was taken as an afterthought at the same time as those above, as I wanted a record of what my kitchen looks like most of the time when I’m working - which seems to be all the time now - the counters were dutifully and painfully cleared for Christmas Eve, which is always celebrated with Dave’s family here, but they have not-so-gradually filled in again with my stacks of paper and lists and fabrics and cotton and paints and pens and correspondence received and to be sent and bills and bits of dead plants and detritus. In part, this scene is a constant chafe to me, like a little piece of hay in your sock - but I also see the sort of remarkable, prosaic beauty of it - how privileged am I to have this space and to have all this work, to be able to make any amount of art at all, to have friends from all over the world who send me cards and gifts and support what I’m doing here - to have a kitchen so large that I can let my work spill out all over the counters and still manage to fix meals, however simple and hurried they are - really my burden at this point in my life, is a surplus of GOOD THINGS happening (not that the animals don’t bring stress and heart-ache - but that is beside the point for now) — of having more things I want to commit to, than what I comfortably or realistically can ….. so my first step in this new year is admitting that I can’t do it all - that I need help - and that I’m actively pursuing that help.

I’ve had other revelations at my windows in the last few days - and I think I’m beginning to see what needs to be done to make Sweet Haven really “work” in a practical way, that doesn’t rely solely on my dogged labor and constant presence - and it will require a lot of nerve and commitment and not a little risk to pursue these improvements and changes…there’s no ‘undo” button in life (one of the things that is so appealing about digital art apps, and also such a crutch), so when we find ourselves in untenable situations we have to dig our way out or maybe get creative - my dear friend Jone encouraged me to try to figure out the “puzzle” of things rather than to keep throwing my weight against a problem and so I’ll be puzzling at my windows and really this post, as LOOOONG as it is, will have to be continued……

I hope you know how much you all mean to me, how grateful I am for your support and enthusiasm, how much I value your friendship and all the things you do for me.

xx

Rosanna