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Archive for the Our thoughts about Carole's Journals Category
15. March 2009 by Frank.
So often in the past few weeks my thoughts have centered on you. Being here is such a tremendous opportunity for me and the children that I feel somehow compelled to write to you to share with you various impressions that have come to me while I’m wondering around your, as they say, ‘neck of the woods’.
Life seems to present many real and vivid questions. For me right now it seems that the most important aspect of my reality is my obligation to my children. There of course, for me is no pat answer. How can one begin to present these “modern day” children with a sense of the true values of human existence? Our present society seems so truly saturated with so much that appears to be the real trash. To try as I said before to present the children with a real alternative is very challenging in our present predicament. Being here does present something very real for all of us. We can, for the time being, have a true sense of ourselves. We cannot change over night but for me at least I have more of a sense of what the children’s real needs are and consequently a more precise clue to my own needs.
Aside from those questions, the flood last week revealed another aspect of your farm. It is a very safe place to be. A major catastrophe would of course take it, but that would take everything else in the valley. Otherwise, the farm is safe, warm, dry, and even without humans it is friendly. So much has happened there that the vibrations are very positive. Even to me. The place speaks to a unity, perhaps spiritual unity, of the natural forces that affect man. That sounds a little heavy in print but I bet you know what I mean.
I am grateful and thankful for these moments which have been given to me here. I can feel my body becoming healthier than it’s been for years and when I am able to listen very quietly I believe my soul is growing too
This is a brief addendum to our last entry, We are all Suffering. My mom wrote this in the same time period of the spring of 1976, as we moved back to Philadelphia by the bicentennial summer celebrations. We were only in the cabin for eight or nine months. Why post such a lucid and sincere and self reflective letter from my mom to one of her favorite relatives? How crazy is this one? The crazy part is after years of moving from one hellish, drug fueled party house to another, after three relationships in quick succession with drunken, drugged out scumbag “musicians” and “artists”, she finally caught a break, and was able to extract herself from the insanity for a moment. My mom expresses here how much better she is feeling, how much more grounded and connected she is. And just like that, my evil stepfather shows up again and tells her he wants her back, and she bolts immediately back to crazy town. Dropping all that peace and quiet and good health for herself, and may I be so bold to add, her dear children she seems so concerned about, for another endless trip back to bizzaro world. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”