Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and even more difficult to remain open to it. Anyway, happy new year, and as always ... peace, sharon Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <peacefulprairie > wrote: Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ESPeaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairieelizabethg1111Subject: Why Begin Again Why Begin Again The day Celeste " drank " grapes The day Celeste stood up and left her barn The day Celeste sang The reason it's worth beginning again... Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary Make a Secure Online Donation Peaceful Choices The Prairie Blog Email PPS The Prairie Blog Reflections on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that day, she loved music. Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her side. There were many days when the only question was: " is it time? " Every time, the answer was: " No " . Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be " put out out of her misery " - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it was fierce with meaning to her. We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, they are not the reasons why life is precious. On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in the eyes. I sang directly to her: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical response. I repeated the refrain: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " . She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling with like feeling. " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new day, for. How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, one summer day. Celeste, wherever you are, " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 Hi Sharon It is a nice thought - did you have anything specific in mind when you quoted it. Jo , " Sharon Murch " <sharon.nemu wrote: > > *Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so > astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. * > ** > *Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is > going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, > to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and > even more difficult to remain open to it.* > ** > *Anyway, happy new year, and as always ...* > *peace,* > *sharon* > ** > ** > *Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <**peacefulprairie > *<peacefulprairie > *>* wrote: > > Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ES > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie > elizabethg1111 > Why Begin Again > > [image: $Account.OrganizationName] Why Begin Again > > The day Celeste " drank " grapes > The day Celeste stood up and left her barn > The day Celeste sang > The reason it's worth beginning again... > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary > A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life > Peaceful Prairie > Sanctuary<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.gto88zbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.peacefulprairie.org%2F> > Make > a Secure Online > Donation<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.6ce9szaab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.justgive.org%2Fgiving%2Fdonate.jsp%3FcharityId%3D10162%26> > Peaceful > Choices<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.78w9j8bab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.peacefulchoices.com%2F> > The > Prairie Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F> > Email > PPS <peacefulprairie > > > The Prairie > Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F>Reflections > on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first > time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which > she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the > grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to > receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved > company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that > day, she loved music. > Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind > legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On > her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued > from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she > arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than > a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her > barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied > herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, > occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. > Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as > her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet > visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her > side. There were many days when the only question was: " is it time? " Every > time, the answer was: " No " . Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be " put > out out of her misery " - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it > was fierce with meaning to her. > We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are > important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that > absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and > degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking > dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love > (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that > draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, > despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was > always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to > her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. > The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the > big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a > full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. > Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next > barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the > beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! > Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! > Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness > - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, > they are not the reasons why life is precious. > On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played > old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk > sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are > meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language > is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and > expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat > up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in > the eyes. I sang directly to her: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je > ne t'oublierai. " She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig > make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical > response. I repeated the refrain: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je > ne t'oublierai. " . She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her > turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song > ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling > with like feeling. " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . > She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we > were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew > each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and > the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. > That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. > It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why > beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. > > When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, > when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being > turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of > loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop > caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, > wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of > it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to > like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it > is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. > This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space > in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully > theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly > magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because > we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new > day, for. > How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds > this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each > and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against > all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of > complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my > culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone > live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? > Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into > existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of > her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, > one summer day. > Celeste, wherever you are, " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . > This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but > beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. > Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 > From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! > > ** > ** > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 Hi Jo ... The only thing I had in mind was that it was so beautiful I had to share it with everyone I could. peace, sharon , " heartwerk " <jo.heartwork wrote: > > Hi Sharon > > It is a nice thought - did you have anything specific in mind when > you quoted it. > > Jo > > > > , " Sharon Murch " <sharon.nemu@> > wrote: > > > > *Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it > was so > > astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. * > > ** > > *Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so > much love is > > going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I > believe, > > to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the > world, and > > even more difficult to remain open to it.* > > ** > > *Anyway, happy new year, and as always ...* > > *peace,* > > *sharon* > > ** > > ** > > *Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <**peacefulprairie@ > > *<peacefulprairie@> > > *>* wrote: > > > > Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ES > > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie@> > > elizabethg1111@ > > Why Begin Again > > > > [image: $Account.OrganizationName] Why Begin Again > > > > The day Celeste " drank " grapes > > The day Celeste stood up and left her barn > > The day Celeste sang > > The reason it's worth beginning again... > > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary > > A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance > at Life > > Peaceful Prairie > > Sanctuary<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? > t=fhs8h8bab.0.gto88zbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% > 2Fwww.peacefulprairie.org%2F> > > Make > > a Secure Online > > Donation<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? > t=fhs8h8bab.0.6ce9szaab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% > 2Fwww.justgive.org%2Fgiving%2Fdonate.jsp%3FcharityId%3D10162%26> > > Peaceful > > Choices<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? > t=fhs8h8bab.0.78w9j8bab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% > 2Fwww.peacefulchoices.com%2F> > > The > > Prairie Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? > t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% > 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F> > > Email > > PPS <peacefulprairie@> > > > > > > The Prairie > > Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? > t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% > 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F>Reflections > > on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for > the first > > time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of > grapes, which > > she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically > drinking the > > grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, > mouth open to > > receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved > > company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we > learned that > > day, she loved music. > > Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use > her hind > > legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her > back. On > > her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. > Rescued > > from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for > slaughter, she > > arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked > more than > > a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, > her > > barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and > busied > > herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed > bags and, > > occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. > > Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours > but, as > > her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to > greet > > visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time > lying on her > > side. There were many days when the only question was: " is it > time? " Every > > time, the answer was: " No " . Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want > to be " put > > out out of her misery " - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. > And it > > was fierce with meaning to her. > > We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those > are > > important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of > meaning (that > > absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is > important), and > > degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of > drinking > > dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees > of love > > (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, > that > > draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite > the pain, > > despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her > mind was > > always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, > strong to > > her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely > unbreakable. > > The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life > were the > > big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR > view of a > > full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. > > Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the > next > > barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and > scares the > > beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her > barn! > > Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! > Celeste sings! > > Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, > happiness > > - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken > bones, > > they are not the reasons why life is precious. > > On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player > played > > old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. > Glacial dusk > > sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich > words are > > meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich > language > > is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured > and > > expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself > up, sat > > up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me > straight in > > the eyes. I sang directly to her: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, > Jamais je > > ne t'oublierai. " She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any > other pig > > make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A > musical > > response. I repeated the refrain: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, > Jamais je > > ne t'oublierai. " . She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for > her > > turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till > the song > > ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, > universal feeling > > with like feeling. " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne > > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never > forget you " . > > She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not > because we > > were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because > we knew > > each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the > grief, and > > the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. > > That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new > beginning. > > It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason > why > > beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth > doing at all. > > > > When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, > crushing, > > when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are > being > > turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the > pain of > > loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT > to stop > > caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, > deeper, > > wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love > because of > > it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we > happen to > > like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not > because it > > is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. > > This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, > a space > > in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is > rightfully > > theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly > > magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply > because > > we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, > a new > > day, for. > > How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my > taste buds > > this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately > would each > > and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, > against > > all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the > sound of > > complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just > for my > > culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, > let alone > > live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? > > Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced > into > > existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled > body all of > > her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just > before noon, > > one summer day. > > Celeste, wherever you are, " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais > je ne > > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never > forget you " . > > This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not > comfortable, but > > beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning > again. > > Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 > > From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! > > > > ** > > ** > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 Thank you for sending this Sharon. It was beautiful! A Year of Joy to YOU! *mona , " Sharon Murch " <sharon.nemu wrote: > > *Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so > astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. * > ** > *Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is > going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, > to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and > even more difficult to remain open to it.* > ** > *Anyway, happy new year, and as always ...* > *peace,* > *sharon* > ** > ** > *Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <**peacefulprairie > *<peacefulprairie > *>* wrote: > > Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ES > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie > elizabethg1111 > Why Begin Again > > [image: $Account.OrganizationName] Why Begin Again > > The day Celeste " drank " grapes > The day Celeste stood up and left her barn > The day Celeste sang > The reason it's worth beginning again... > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary > A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life > Peaceful Prairie > Sanctuary<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.gto88zbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.peacefulprairie.org%2F> > Make > a Secure Online > Donation<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.6ce9szaab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.justgive.org%2Fgiving%2Fdonate.jsp%3FcharityId%3D10162%26> > Peaceful > Choices<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.78w9j8bab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fwww.peacefulchoices.com%2F> > The > Prairie Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F> > Email > PPS <peacefulprairie > > > The Prairie > Blog<http://rs6.net/tn.jsp? t=fhs8h8bab.0.pgyzoxbab.z468w8n6.451 & ts=S0219 & p=http%3A%2F% 2Fpeacefulprairie.blogspot.com%2F>Reflections > on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first > time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which > she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the > grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to > receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved > company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that > day, she loved music. > Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind > legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On > her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued > from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she > arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than > a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her > barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied > herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, > occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. > Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as > her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet > visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her > side. There were many days when the only question was: " is it time? " Every > time, the answer was: " No " . Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be " put > out out of her misery " - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it > was fierce with meaning to her. > We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are > important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that > absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and > degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking > dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love > (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that > draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, > despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was > always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to > her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. > The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the > big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a > full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. > Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next > barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the > beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! > Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! > Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness > - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, > they are not the reasons why life is precious. > On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played > old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk > sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are > meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language > is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and > expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat > up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in > the eyes. I sang directly to her: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je > ne t'oublierai. " She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig > make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical > response. I repeated the refrain: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je > ne t'oublierai. " . She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her > turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song > ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling > with like feeling. " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . > She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we > were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew > each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and > the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. > That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. > It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why > beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. > > When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, > when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being > turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of > loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop > caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, > wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of > it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to > like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it > is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. > This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space > in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully > theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly > magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because > we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new > day, for. > How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds > this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each > and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against > all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of > complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my > culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone > live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? > Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into > existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of > her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, > one summer day. > Celeste, wherever you are, " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne > t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . > This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but > beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. > Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 > From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! > > ** > ** > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 Is this the pig that sang at the moon? The Valley Vegan...........mail.com> wrote: Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and even more difficult to remain open to it. Anyway, happy new year, and as always ... peace, sharon Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <peacefulprairie (AT) netecin (DOT) net > wrote: Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ESPeaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie (AT) netecin (DOT) net>elizabethg1111 Subject: Why Begin Again Why Begin Again The day Celeste "drank" grapes The day Celeste stood up and left her barn The day Celeste sang The reason it's worth beginning again... Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary Make a Secure Online Donation Peaceful Choices The Prairie Blog Email PPS The Prairie BlogReflections on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that day, she loved music. Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her side. There were many days when the only question was: "is it time?" Every time, the answer was: "No". Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be "put out out of her misery" - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it was fierce with meaning to her. We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, they are not the reasons why life is precious. On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in the eyes. I sang directly to her: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai." She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical response. I repeated the refrain: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.". She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling with like feeling. "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you". She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new day, for. How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, one summer day. Celeste, wherever you are, "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you". This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! Peter H Inbox full of spam? Get leading spam protection and 1GB storage with All New Mail. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 i believe that book came out before Celeste "sang" i don't recall her being in the book....but its been a couple years since i read it... peter VV Jan 4, 2007 8:01 AM Re: Why begin again? Is this the pig that sang at the moon? The Valley Vegan...........mail.com> wrote: Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and even more difficult to remain open to it. Anyway, happy new year, and as always ... peace, sharon Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <peacefulprairie (AT) netecin (DOT) net > wrote: Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ESPeaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie (AT) netecin (DOT) net>elizabethg1111 Subject: Why Begin Again Why Begin Again The day Celeste "drank" grapes The day Celeste stood up and left her barn The day Celeste sang The reason it's worth beginning again... Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary Make a Secure Online Donation Peaceful Choices The Prairie Blog Email PPS The Prairie BlogReflections on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that day, she loved music. Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her side. There were many days when the only question was: "is it time?" Every time, the answer was: "No". Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be "put out out of her misery" - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it was fierce with meaning to her. We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, they are not the reasons why life is precious. On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in the eyes. I sang directly to her: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai." She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical response. I repeated the refrain: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.". She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song ended, each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling with like feeling. "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you". She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new day, for. How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, one summer day. Celeste, wherever you are, "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you". This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! Peter H Inbox full of spam? Get leading spam protection and 1GB storage with All New Mail. What gets us into trouble is not what we don't know, it's what we know for sure that just ain't so. - Mark Twain Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 4, 2007 Report Share Posted January 4, 2007 No, that pig lived in Auckland, New Zealand, and was named Piglet. I guess that kind of confirms that pigs do like to sing, doesn't it? peace, sharon , peter VV <swpgh01 wrote: > > Is this the pig that sang at the moon? > > The Valley Vegan........... > > mail.com> wrote: > Hello everyone. I got this e-mail from a friend, and I thought it was so astoundingly, breathtakingly beautiful I had to send it to you. > > Sometimes, does it ever seem that allowing yourself to feel so much love is going to just simply break your heart? It is a difficult thing, I believe, to open yourself to love in the face of all the suffering in the world, and even more difficult to remain open to it. > > Anyway, happy new year, and as always ... > peace, > sharon > > > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary <peacefulprairie > wrote: > Wed, 3 Jan 2007 18:10:00 -0500 (ES > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary < peacefulprairie > elizabethg1111 > Why Begin Again > > Why Begin Again > > > > The day Celeste " drank " grapes > > > The day Celeste stood up and left her barn > > > The day Celeste sang > > > The reason it's worth beginning again... > > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary > A Safe Haven for Farmed Animals Who Have Been Given a Second Chance at Life > Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary Make a Secure Online Donation Peaceful Choices The Prairie Blog Email PPS > > > > > > The Prairie BlogReflections on the New Year Two years ago almost to the day, Celeste sang for the first time. It was New Year's Day 2005. We had brought her gifts of grapes, which she had received and consumed enthusiastically, practically drinking the grapes off the stems like wine, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open to receive the nectar (and to demand more). She loved treats, she loved company, she loved stimulation, she loved novelty and, as we learned that day, she loved music. > Celeste spent her short life a cripple. Hunched over, unable to use her hind legs, she sat up, on her good days, like a dog with a hump on her back. On her bad days, she just lay on one side and didn't get up at all. Rescued from a family hog farm the day before she was scheduled for slaughter, she arrived at the sanctuary with a broken back, and she never walked more than a few steps at a time, although she did move around her safe world, her barn, by dragging her crippled hind legs from place to place, and busied herself with rearranging the straw bales, the blankets, the feed bags and, occasionally, her barn mate, Ponza. > Once in a while, she got up and walked around proper, on all fours but, as her condition worsened, she limited her activity to sitting up to greet visitors. And then, towards the end, she spent most of her time lying on her side. There were many days when the only question was: " is it time? " Every time, the answer was: " No " . Not our answer. Hers. She didn't want to be " put out out of her misery " - it wasn't misery to her, it was her life. And it was fierce with meaning to her. > We kept trying to measure her life in degrees of comfort. And those are important measures. But she measured its worth in degrees of meaning (that absolute certainty, down to the marrow, that something is important), and degrees of joy (not happiness, not pleasure, but the fierce joy of drinking dawn like spring water, and eating dusk like supper), and degrees of love (not love that scintillates, but love that pulls you like a river, that draws you, body and soul, into the mystery of another day despite the pain, despite the darkness). Her eyes were always filled with light, her mind was always awake, aware, alert, open to receive the world, her spirit, strong to her last breath, her will to live, learn, and grow, absolutely unbreakable. > The moments of triumph we recorded and celebrated in Celeste's life were the big, dramatic, visible ones, those moments that demonstrated OUR view of a full life not hers, what WE thought a full life should be. > Celeste stands up! Celeste walks a few steps! Celeste goes into the next barn with no help! Celeste visits with the potbellied pigs (and scares the beejeebers out of them)! Celeste takes a mud bath in front of her barn! Celeste leaves her barn and suns herself on the front porch! Celeste sings! > Those are very important markers of a good life - health, comfort, happiness - but, as Celeste felt beyond doubt, all the way down to her broken bones, they are not the reasons why life is precious. > On that New Years Day in her barn, some 730 days ago, the CD player played old French songs and I sang along as I stroked Celeste's belly. Glacial dusk sky, dead of winter. It was an old French love ballad whose rich words are meaningless to all who don't speak French, just as Celeste's rich language is meaningless to all who don't speak Pig. But the music captured and expressed what we all feel beyond language. Celeste propped herself up, sat up, her face a few inches from mine, cocked her head, looked me straight in the eyes. I sang directly to her: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " She uttered a sound I had never heard her, or any other pig make. A series of open mouthed, melodic, rhythmic, throaty purrs. A musical response. I repeated the refrain: " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " . She listened, wide mouthed, as though waiting for her turn. I paused. She repeated her musical reply. We did this till the song ended, > each of us responding to music with music, to deep, universal feeling with like feeling. " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . > She sang in pig, I sang in human. We understood each other. Not because we were especially gifted at inter-species communication, not because we knew each other all that well, but because we both knew the love, the grief, and the hope of being alive in a soul burdened body. > That day with Celeste, that New Year's Day, was a true-blue new beginning. It revealed then, and it continues to reveal now, the only reason why beginning again - a new day, a new week, a new year - is worth doing at all. > When the darkness of the world seems overwhelming, unstoppable, crushing, when beings like Celeste, who love life and sing about love, are being turned into meat and handbags by the millions every day, when the pain of loving them seems unbearable, the answer is NOT to stop loving, NOT to stop caring, NOT to add to the darkness. The answer is to love more, deeper, wider. To love despite the darkness and the pain. Indeed, to love because of it. To love those who need it most desperately, not only those we happen to like, to love because our love is profoundly, vitally needed, not because it is self- gratifying. To love as though life depended on it. It does. > This is what being vegan means. Securing, one vegan meal at a time, a space in the world where innocents like Celeste can simply keep what is rightfully theirs - their life, their freedom, their meager, pathetic, or truly magnificent shot at happiness, refusing to take their lives simply because we have the power. It is the only thing worth starting a new year, a new day, for. > How many hapless individuals like Celeste would be killed for my taste buds this New Year, if I weren't vegan? 30, 80, 100? How desperately would each and every one of them cling to life, fighting to their last breath, against all hope? What would their last sounds on earth be? What IS the sound of complete despair? How many times would it be voiced this year, just for my culinary pleasure? Do I really want to start a New Year like this, let alone live through each and every one of its 365 blood-soaked days? > Celeste left this world entirely on her own. She had been forced into existence by human greed, she had been a prisoner of a crippled body all of her short life, but she exited entirely on her own terms, just before noon, one summer day. > Celeste, wherever you are, " Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai. " " I�ve been loving you for so long, I will never forget you " . This will be a life-filled year. Maybe not happy, maybe not comfortable, but beautiful, and true - like your life. Worth living. Worth beginning again. > Joanna Lucas, Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary, January 2007 > From ALL of us at PPS, Have a Peaceful New Year! > > > > > > Peter H > > > > > Inbox full of spam? Get leading spam protection and 1GB storage with All New Mail. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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