The monks of old would call Chloe a bodhisattva in a polka-dot hat. Joy that endures in a burning world is not naive. It is resistance wrapped in frosting. The tyrant cannot abide it, which is why we must practice it with abandon.
Light the candle. Feed the pup. The empire hates a feast.
Thank you for this. It made me cry. It made my day. The day my father died 49 years ago. The day I will fly back to California from relatively sane Japan, hoping there's no trouble getting back into the country so I can be reunited with my 16 year old baby - fur babies are babies forever, right?
Oh wow… thank you for sharing this. What a profound day to hold all that—grief, love, and the deep ache of reunion.
Yes. Fur babies are absolutely babies forever.
Sending you so much strength as you travel back to your 16-year-old baby. May your return be safe and your reunion feel like breath coming back into your body.
We carry so much. I’m honored this post could meet you in that space. ❤️🔥
The best part of my day is the time spent with the most constant part of my family (the ones covered in fur and feathers). My oldest canine buddy is over thirteen. The cats are 2 and 3, and my puppy just turned two. I have kind of lost track on the horses. Maybe 13 and 16? The oldest chicken is at least eight or nine. It will be hard when she goes. I can see the genetics of some of my favorite birds in her.
Oh wow… you’ve built a real sanctuary. I can feel how deeply you love and know them—not just the furry ones, but the feathered ones too.
We’re kindred souls over here—four dogs, three cats, a houseful of fish, and a yard full of ancient trees with birds singing their hearts out. I get it. Every animal has their own rhythm, their own story, their own way of breaking and filling your heart at the same time.
Your old girl—the matriarch hen—she’s clearly woven into everything. You can feel her in the lineage. That kind of love doesn’t vanish.
Sending you peace and deep gratitude for the way you love.
I have had pet chickens (including a couple in the house here and there) at least fifteen years or so. The current matriarch has features that can only come from Delilah, a Golden Sebright (mostly in her slimness and more upright tail), and is a smaller looking version otherwise of Ms Scarlett, who was almost 13 when she passed. She retired inside and spent more than a year as a pampered house hen. She had developed some lameness, but refused to move inside two different times. I realized she would tell me when she was ready, and she did. Pictures of Ms Scarlett as a young hen, and in her retirement. She often gave me a look that was so easy to understand: “I’m a chicken, and know how to do that better than you do.”
Dogs have a way of making our lives better. I’ve told many people that no matter how bad of a day I’ve experienced, when I get home and my dog is there to greet me at the door with her tail wagging, excited to see me, it improves my mood immediately. Brookie is my best friend and my reset of what’s important in life.
When I get really frazzled, I do a thing: list things I COULD HAVE been planning (pride costume, nephews' presents, mending for myself, food recipes for the 4th?, painting the beauty out my window). This often snaps me out of my boo-hoo's. Not gunna let that ORANGE MAN ruin my summer!
It started in 1985, the year I studied in France. I naturally missed things about home. My 2 American friends and I would meet on Fridays. "Complain for 1 minute!"We set the timer named all the things bothered us (about France). After that catharsis, we were ready and able to be the happy twenty-somethings that we were.
So, what I see is your candle for Chloe is part of your culture. You're creating a space that is safe for being human. Keep this going. It will feed your soul. And this pain will pass and seem trivia maybe 30 years from now.
The monks of old would call Chloe a bodhisattva in a polka-dot hat. Joy that endures in a burning world is not naive. It is resistance wrapped in frosting. The tyrant cannot abide it, which is why we must practice it with abandon.
Light the candle. Feed the pup. The empire hates a feast.
Virgin Monk Boy
I want this embroidered on a war banner and flung from the highest monastery tower.
“Joy that endures in a burning world is not naive. It is resistance wrapped in frosting.”
You get it. You always do.
Chloe would’ve absolutely bowed in polka-dots and blessed your soul with a tail wag.
Thank you for honoring her joy—and reminding all of us that the empire hates a feast.
🕯️🍗🍰🔥 To the candle, to the pup, to the table we are still building.
Always, always: with abandon.
Thank you for this. It made me cry. It made my day. The day my father died 49 years ago. The day I will fly back to California from relatively sane Japan, hoping there's no trouble getting back into the country so I can be reunited with my 16 year old baby - fur babies are babies forever, right?
Oh wow… thank you for sharing this. What a profound day to hold all that—grief, love, and the deep ache of reunion.
Yes. Fur babies are absolutely babies forever.
Sending you so much strength as you travel back to your 16-year-old baby. May your return be safe and your reunion feel like breath coming back into your body.
We carry so much. I’m honored this post could meet you in that space. ❤️🔥
The best part of my day is the time spent with the most constant part of my family (the ones covered in fur and feathers). My oldest canine buddy is over thirteen. The cats are 2 and 3, and my puppy just turned two. I have kind of lost track on the horses. Maybe 13 and 16? The oldest chicken is at least eight or nine. It will be hard when she goes. I can see the genetics of some of my favorite birds in her.
Oh wow… you’ve built a real sanctuary. I can feel how deeply you love and know them—not just the furry ones, but the feathered ones too.
We’re kindred souls over here—four dogs, three cats, a houseful of fish, and a yard full of ancient trees with birds singing their hearts out. I get it. Every animal has their own rhythm, their own story, their own way of breaking and filling your heart at the same time.
Your old girl—the matriarch hen—she’s clearly woven into everything. You can feel her in the lineage. That kind of love doesn’t vanish.
Sending you peace and deep gratitude for the way you love.
❤️🔥🕊️🐾
I have had pet chickens (including a couple in the house here and there) at least fifteen years or so. The current matriarch has features that can only come from Delilah, a Golden Sebright (mostly in her slimness and more upright tail), and is a smaller looking version otherwise of Ms Scarlett, who was almost 13 when she passed. She retired inside and spent more than a year as a pampered house hen. She had developed some lameness, but refused to move inside two different times. I realized she would tell me when she was ready, and she did. Pictures of Ms Scarlett as a young hen, and in her retirement. She often gave me a look that was so easy to understand: “I’m a chicken, and know how to do that better than you do.”
Yes, Yes Chloe is the reminder to what matters....the joy! Thanks so much for this post. xoxo
Gloria
Yes, exactly that—the joy.
It’s so easy to forget in all the noise… but Chloe never did.
Thank you for feeling it with me, Gloria. Sending you big love back. xoxo ❤️🐾
YeP . . . JoY. J0Y is THe POiNT, THe MeaNs, THe MeaNing,
THe MeTHod, THe INSPiRaTioN, THe MoTiVaTioN, THe PRoV0CaTioN , THe PRoTeSTs, etc ARe ALL ReLaTed to J 0 y. WoT ELSe iS THeRe ?
YES.
Joy as method, meaning, spark, rebellion.
JOY as the thing they can’t monetize, can’t regulate, can’t kill.
You speak fluent Chloe.
I see you. I love this. Never stop. ❤️🔥✨
Dogs have a way of making our lives better. I’ve told many people that no matter how bad of a day I’ve experienced, when I get home and my dog is there to greet me at the door with her tail wagging, excited to see me, it improves my mood immediately. Brookie is my best friend and my reset of what’s important in life.
My cat OC has saved my sanity on more than one occasion. He is my source of joy in a world that often seems devoid of it.
When I get really frazzled, I do a thing: list things I COULD HAVE been planning (pride costume, nephews' presents, mending for myself, food recipes for the 4th?, painting the beauty out my window). This often snaps me out of my boo-hoo's. Not gunna let that ORANGE MAN ruin my summer!
It started in 1985, the year I studied in France. I naturally missed things about home. My 2 American friends and I would meet on Fridays. "Complain for 1 minute!"We set the timer named all the things bothered us (about France). After that catharsis, we were ready and able to be the happy twenty-somethings that we were.
So, what I see is your candle for Chloe is part of your culture. You're creating a space that is safe for being human. Keep this going. It will feed your soul. And this pain will pass and seem trivia maybe 30 years from now.
Excellent!
Love this! Reminds me of the lemon almond Birthday Cake I celebrate with every year.
check it out:
https://thesecretingredient.substack.com/p/turning-24-my-lemon-almond-birthday
Birthday Blessings Chloe ‼️ ❤️ 🥳 ❤️‼️
Rebellious Joy! The best kind of resistance! 💙
My dogs always help renew my fire to keep resisting too.