There is a house, a magnificent breath-taking house for sale near the coast. I've been looking at houses and properties for about two years because we don't know whether the quarry is in or out. It is before the Environmental and Planning Court but hasn't been heard yet. Because I don't want to live here if a quarry begins, with the accompanying traffic, noise and destruction, I've searched for another place to live. And I look at houses that are completely out of our price range. Why? Well, who knows, we might win the lottery. Stranger things have happened.
So, while R sleeps and the morning chores are finished I got online to check the weather (raining) and mail and there, there was this Moroccan inspired house near Lennox Head. Built on a hill (no danger of flooding or beach erosion) on a large block (large enough for the aviaries) and it simply took my breath away. My heart beat faster and I felt this lump in my chest. Oh, I could live in this house (offers over $2 million). It is mysterious and warm, exotic and comfortable, green and red and blue; green tropical foliage, red sandstone and blue ocean and pool.
What a good idea to move the cages. Tachimedes and Cornelius have gone into Corni's cage for breakfast but still want nothing to do with Tach's. I've taken the black sheet off the top of Tach's cage. It's never been a worry before but with the cage up so high it does look somewhat large and ominous looming over the rest of the verandah like some Twilight Zone alien. Have replaced it with a cream sheet which is light and airy and hopefully not so frightening to one tiny little cockatiel.
R is mowing the lawn. We take precautions before R mows as Dimitri has leapt from great heights because of fear. The padding around the tree perch extends out about 4'. Even Dimitri can't leap beyond the padding (I hope!). If he does leap he'll still scare himself but he shouldn't be injured. The other perches are laid down on the ground so that he can't climb them only to jump in panic. Otherwise I'd have to pad the entire verandah and that's just not logical. Couldn't clean it and I'd be doing bird laundry all the time.
Was quite chuffed this morning as Dimitri took the millet with less fuss and far more bravery. One day....
Went to the gym, bought groceries and and winning lotto ticket. How I wish. I know why I don't win. Not because of the odds against it. That's nothing. It's because I am torn between wanting material things and knowing in the scheme of things, ie reality, I don't need them and everything I need I already have. It's guilt. I have so much, why should I expect or ask for more. Where we live is a little piece of paradise. How dare I ask for frosting when I've got cake? Yet I do. There's another part of me that knows there is no want in the world. Having The Moroccan doesn't mean someone else does without. (It also has a studio over the garage, perfect for peace and quiet - painting, yoga and meditation - I love R to bits but it is difficult sometimes to have that little area of my own. He comes looking for me, just to touch base, not because he wants me to do something but...I don't know, he just comes and says hello, hovers a bit sometimes. I need a room of my own (Oh, Virginia how right you were!).
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Redecorating the Bird Verandah
Have spent most of the day rearranging the verandah. Yesterday Dimitri managed to climb atop Tachimedes cage. He stayed there all day and all night. It is so high that I didn't dare approach in case he took fright and jumped. He would've surely done himself an injury. Finally I managed to place a wooden ladder on the lip of the entrance and he came down looking for food (I couldn't feed him and he had to be content with budgie seed).
That was it. If he did it once he would do it again so things had to change. I'd been thinking about moving the littlies cages to the opposite end of the verandah anyway as I wouldn't have to pass him on his tree perch to replenish food and water. Today seemed to be the day. Unfortunately R was away and I had a heck of a time getting Tach's huge cage onto the 'art' table (a large, tall table that can be tilted up to support artwork. R built it for me while we were still in Tasmania. It took up practically all of the office and as I am using a portable board for my artwork rather than the table so it has been relegated to the verandah). Anyway, I wound up removing the seed skirt and the wheels (can't have a wheeled object on a table). Then I was confronted with the sharp table legs. How could I get this cage up without scratching everything. Ended up covering them with hankies and rubber bands. A girlie solution but effective. Leaned the cage against the table and pushed, turned it on its side and pushed again - with hip and arm - it was bloody scary as it is so heavy and unwieldy I thought I'd either drop it or have it come crashing down on me. Looking at it now I am amazed I managed to get it there.
But there it is and there it stays. The unfortunate thing is the little birds are befuddled. Where are there homes? They are sleeping rough as neither of them came to the cages for their evening feed and snooze. Tomorrow I'm sure they'll figure it out. Tach had an idea but this tall looming dark thing (half of it is covered in sheet so he feels protected) was just too much for him. Cornelius didn't even try. Corny is on the tree perch ladder and Tach is pressed against the ceiling on the old clothesline. Dimitri was the least upset. While I was trying to coax Tach and Corny into their 'new' homes, he came sidling over looking for treats. Not bad. Actually he took the upheaval quite well. I made sure I moved slowly and backed off if he showed signs of stress yet I think he's starting to realize that he will never be pushed too far by me. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. One incident tonight comes to mind. I pushed the coop cup on the floor, it made a sound, Tach panicked and flew off and Dimitri, in trying to fly off, did a complete flip!
Since writing here Dimitri and I have made tiny advances. I can sit in a chair by the feed table and he'll come and get millet sprigs. At first he'll run to the far end of the table to eat but with each treat he'll move less and less until he's only turning his body. That's a good thing. With the introduction of the chair we had to back up a bit as he was nervous (again) about taking treats from my fingers but we've done that again too so it's all good.
I am working on a pencil sketch of a Hahn's Macaw and am really pleased with its progress. It's probably about 3/4 finished. Some of it, especially the eye and beak, really 'leap' out at the viewer (methinks). I wish I could imagine that and then imagine the detail but frankly I would never be able to draw the feathering, the beak, the eye, the feet without a reference photo. Or real life but just don't think Dimitri (or anyone) would stand still long enough, with the light from the same angle, etc. for me to do it. Still, I have learned and am learning a lot about feathers, beaks, legs etc. and if I can create something from my head in the future (I really don't like copying, it seems such a cop-out) it will come in handy.
That was it. If he did it once he would do it again so things had to change. I'd been thinking about moving the littlies cages to the opposite end of the verandah anyway as I wouldn't have to pass him on his tree perch to replenish food and water. Today seemed to be the day. Unfortunately R was away and I had a heck of a time getting Tach's huge cage onto the 'art' table (a large, tall table that can be tilted up to support artwork. R built it for me while we were still in Tasmania. It took up practically all of the office and as I am using a portable board for my artwork rather than the table so it has been relegated to the verandah). Anyway, I wound up removing the seed skirt and the wheels (can't have a wheeled object on a table). Then I was confronted with the sharp table legs. How could I get this cage up without scratching everything. Ended up covering them with hankies and rubber bands. A girlie solution but effective. Leaned the cage against the table and pushed, turned it on its side and pushed again - with hip and arm - it was bloody scary as it is so heavy and unwieldy I thought I'd either drop it or have it come crashing down on me. Looking at it now I am amazed I managed to get it there.
But there it is and there it stays. The unfortunate thing is the little birds are befuddled. Where are there homes? They are sleeping rough as neither of them came to the cages for their evening feed and snooze. Tomorrow I'm sure they'll figure it out. Tach had an idea but this tall looming dark thing (half of it is covered in sheet so he feels protected) was just too much for him. Cornelius didn't even try. Corny is on the tree perch ladder and Tach is pressed against the ceiling on the old clothesline. Dimitri was the least upset. While I was trying to coax Tach and Corny into their 'new' homes, he came sidling over looking for treats. Not bad. Actually he took the upheaval quite well. I made sure I moved slowly and backed off if he showed signs of stress yet I think he's starting to realize that he will never be pushed too far by me. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. One incident tonight comes to mind. I pushed the coop cup on the floor, it made a sound, Tach panicked and flew off and Dimitri, in trying to fly off, did a complete flip!
Since writing here Dimitri and I have made tiny advances. I can sit in a chair by the feed table and he'll come and get millet sprigs. At first he'll run to the far end of the table to eat but with each treat he'll move less and less until he's only turning his body. That's a good thing. With the introduction of the chair we had to back up a bit as he was nervous (again) about taking treats from my fingers but we've done that again too so it's all good.
I am working on a pencil sketch of a Hahn's Macaw and am really pleased with its progress. It's probably about 3/4 finished. Some of it, especially the eye and beak, really 'leap' out at the viewer (methinks). I wish I could imagine that and then imagine the detail but frankly I would never be able to draw the feathering, the beak, the eye, the feet without a reference photo. Or real life but just don't think Dimitri (or anyone) would stand still long enough, with the light from the same angle, etc. for me to do it. Still, I have learned and am learning a lot about feathers, beaks, legs etc. and if I can create something from my head in the future (I really don't like copying, it seems such a cop-out) it will come in handy.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Dimitri Breakthrough and Pencils
Somehow life seems to be coming together a bit. I've taken myself in hand and decided that I didn't like not liking myself much. So much easier to live with myself when I'm being creative, taking care of myself and making progress in areas of my life that matter to me. I'd started to slide off with the yoga on my days off. Too easy to sleep in then, once I did get up, the birds and other creatures needed breakfast and then once that was done the day was off and running. Now I set the alarm and even if I sleep in for another half hour I'm still up at 5:30 which gives me 30 minutes of yoga. I've noticed that days which start with yoga are better days.
Hate to admit this but I'd backslid with the spider solitaire (like talking about heroin addiction or something). I still had it on the start menu and was occasionally playing the odd game. Then the odd game became a couple of games and so on until I was playing it with closed my eyes at night. Time to stop. I removed the game from the hard drive. The relief was and is palpable.
I've finished the Parrot LLP mini-lessons and will soon start the course. Had a huge breakthrough with Dimitri. Two breakthroughs actually. The first one was taking a treat from my hand. I've fed him treats before but it was always me going towards him with it so he could reach it. No wonder he snatched and ran. This time I'm standing at the end of the food table with the millet sprig in my outstretched hand. After a warm up period in which he came closer and closer he finally took it. His choice. Him coming to me. The first few times he ran to the end of the table to eat it but yesterday he was moving only a few inches away. I'm really happy about this as I see it as a major hurdle. His choice. It explains a little why he was so inconsistent with treat-taking before. I always had to step towards him to give it and even though he wanted the treat I was still advancing into his territory or safe space. Now it is entirely his choice to take the treat or not. Total freedom.
The other breakthrough is him eating from the seed bowl while my fingers are touching it. For quite a while now he has been eating from the seed bowl while I sit beside it. I'm only half a foot away. He's nervous at first but then relaxes and eats without raising his head from the bowl. I've even practiced moving my hands about; putting a strand of hair behind my ear, wiping my brow, scratching my leg - moving my hands slowly but making the movements big. He's coped with that very well. But he hasn't coped with my hands anywhere near the feed bowl. I can have them folded in my lap (we're on the floor) but I can't even extend a finger to the rim. Then I could. He was far more nervous to begin with but eventually settled and ate normally. Happy Day!
KL told me a story about her corella. She's had him for 18 months or so. He was always very trusting and affectionate; loved cuddles, being carried about and made a fuss of. Last Australia Day KL went away with her family. A trusted family friend fed the birds while they were gone. KL has implicit trust in this person and knows she wouldn't have done anything to the corella yet when they returned home the bird was afraid, nervous and wanted nothing to do with KL. In the intervening year KL has tried hard to win back his trust. He was like Dimitri; taking a treat then running with it. Very anxious. Then last week she held her finger up, stroked his breast and said 'up', like she always did. He hesitated then leapt onto her chest and buried his head under her chin. He cuddled for an hour and a half and again the next day.
It just goes to show how highly strung corellas can be. Dimitri is entirely different from the galahs and from S. C. Cockatoos I've known. I should do some work with Obama, teach him to step up, etc. As it is all he wants is head scratches. It wouldn't take long for him to be completely trusting and tame - but I'm not that committed to the time it would take as there are other things I'd rather do - like cuddle Marvin, Mr. Cuddle Himself. But it just illustrates how trainable and trusting galahs can be with just a little input. Dimitri is an entirely different kettle of fish. Perhaps it's because besides being wild caught he is an adult. I have no way of knowing. Yet, despite the time and setbacks and dumb moves on my part, we are making progress.
I hoot before going onto the verandah. Trying to imitate his hoot. It's a nice way to warn him I'm coming out as well as being, I hope, a contact call that reassures him. I have noticed him softly hooting a response a few times and that warms the cockles of my heart.
Have also reignited my interest in pencil drawing. I've always loved pencil drawing for its own sake. Did a little web searching and have found some absolute masters like John S. Gibb, (http://www.johnsgibb.com), who are inspiring in what can be done with the pencil. I've done alot of colour work but somehow, perhaps because I'm not technically proficient with colour and how colours relate together I seem to get into more strife. I have done some good colour work, but I do love the simplicity of pencil. Looking at Mr. Gibb's work, especially the otters, there's something more real and otterlike about those drawings than I think would be possible to convey with colour. And because I'm not always having to make colour decisions, drawing with pencil is more relaxing. I want to work and don't dread it. If I make a mistake I can erase it. With colour it's not always that easy to fix mistakes.
Hate to admit this but I'd backslid with the spider solitaire (like talking about heroin addiction or something). I still had it on the start menu and was occasionally playing the odd game. Then the odd game became a couple of games and so on until I was playing it with closed my eyes at night. Time to stop. I removed the game from the hard drive. The relief was and is palpable.
I've finished the Parrot LLP mini-lessons and will soon start the course. Had a huge breakthrough with Dimitri. Two breakthroughs actually. The first one was taking a treat from my hand. I've fed him treats before but it was always me going towards him with it so he could reach it. No wonder he snatched and ran. This time I'm standing at the end of the food table with the millet sprig in my outstretched hand. After a warm up period in which he came closer and closer he finally took it. His choice. Him coming to me. The first few times he ran to the end of the table to eat it but yesterday he was moving only a few inches away. I'm really happy about this as I see it as a major hurdle. His choice. It explains a little why he was so inconsistent with treat-taking before. I always had to step towards him to give it and even though he wanted the treat I was still advancing into his territory or safe space. Now it is entirely his choice to take the treat or not. Total freedom.
The other breakthrough is him eating from the seed bowl while my fingers are touching it. For quite a while now he has been eating from the seed bowl while I sit beside it. I'm only half a foot away. He's nervous at first but then relaxes and eats without raising his head from the bowl. I've even practiced moving my hands about; putting a strand of hair behind my ear, wiping my brow, scratching my leg - moving my hands slowly but making the movements big. He's coped with that very well. But he hasn't coped with my hands anywhere near the feed bowl. I can have them folded in my lap (we're on the floor) but I can't even extend a finger to the rim. Then I could. He was far more nervous to begin with but eventually settled and ate normally. Happy Day!
KL told me a story about her corella. She's had him for 18 months or so. He was always very trusting and affectionate; loved cuddles, being carried about and made a fuss of. Last Australia Day KL went away with her family. A trusted family friend fed the birds while they were gone. KL has implicit trust in this person and knows she wouldn't have done anything to the corella yet when they returned home the bird was afraid, nervous and wanted nothing to do with KL. In the intervening year KL has tried hard to win back his trust. He was like Dimitri; taking a treat then running with it. Very anxious. Then last week she held her finger up, stroked his breast and said 'up', like she always did. He hesitated then leapt onto her chest and buried his head under her chin. He cuddled for an hour and a half and again the next day.
It just goes to show how highly strung corellas can be. Dimitri is entirely different from the galahs and from S. C. Cockatoos I've known. I should do some work with Obama, teach him to step up, etc. As it is all he wants is head scratches. It wouldn't take long for him to be completely trusting and tame - but I'm not that committed to the time it would take as there are other things I'd rather do - like cuddle Marvin, Mr. Cuddle Himself. But it just illustrates how trainable and trusting galahs can be with just a little input. Dimitri is an entirely different kettle of fish. Perhaps it's because besides being wild caught he is an adult. I have no way of knowing. Yet, despite the time and setbacks and dumb moves on my part, we are making progress.
I hoot before going onto the verandah. Trying to imitate his hoot. It's a nice way to warn him I'm coming out as well as being, I hope, a contact call that reassures him. I have noticed him softly hooting a response a few times and that warms the cockles of my heart.
Have also reignited my interest in pencil drawing. I've always loved pencil drawing for its own sake. Did a little web searching and have found some absolute masters like John S. Gibb, (http://www.johnsgibb.com), who are inspiring in what can be done with the pencil. I've done alot of colour work but somehow, perhaps because I'm not technically proficient with colour and how colours relate together I seem to get into more strife. I have done some good colour work, but I do love the simplicity of pencil. Looking at Mr. Gibb's work, especially the otters, there's something more real and otterlike about those drawings than I think would be possible to convey with colour. And because I'm not always having to make colour decisions, drawing with pencil is more relaxing. I want to work and don't dread it. If I make a mistake I can erase it. With colour it's not always that easy to fix mistakes.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Hot Yoga and Hot Computer and Cool Dimitri
The computer's been down for a few days (overheated with an extra hard drive. Now the drive's been removed and it's running better than ever, especially as I've removed the side of the CPU). Wouldn't have minded so much as everything can wait but as I've started the parrot behaviour mini lessons I haven't wanted to miss anything. Finished one lesson but was doing an 'extra credit' and couldn't send that. Anyway, all good now.
With much anticipation went to yoga with a couple of friends. It was a new 10 week Hatha yoga course. Unfortunately it was a very beginner course and I feel confident that I can handle a bit more than what was on offer. Overheard the instructor say that at the end we'd be doing real postures. Ack! The other thing that didn't sit well with me was the meditation. I've just got a thing, unreasonable as it is, about starting a class with a meditation and then having another at the end. I'd rather have one at the end, when the body has been warmed up, stretched and then cooled down. The postures themselves, with the focus on breathing, are a kind of meditation. They still the mind and bring me into the present. So the search continues.
Dimitri is starting to trust me a wee bit more. If I didn't follow our interaction so intensely I probably wouldn't notice it but it is definitely happening. He's more willing to wait and see what I'm up to before he hurries away. Sometimes he doesn't move when I have to pass him to get to the cages, he just watches. He's targeting well when he's in the mood. More often now he wants to come directly to the seed dish for treats and as it's sitting very close to me on the floor I let him. Last night and this morning he was closer than he'd ever been. I decided to slowly move my hands about, nonchalantly dropping one hand to my knee or lifting it to wipe the sweat from my face (literally - very warm and humid here). Sometimes he'd walk away a step and then resume eating. Other times he didn't budge. Very happy with that. He's also more responsive to my voice. If I tell him it's all right, he does listen. I've also been c/ting him for looking me in the eye. I think part of the lack of connection was the lack of eye contact. Not the staring predator sort of eye contact but a quick look in the eye so that he sees me as ME and not some huge behemoth waiting to pounce on him.
That's the thing with cockatoos, no matter if it's a cockatiel or a sulphur crested. There is so much somebody in there when you look into their eyes. A thinking feeling being. It's humbling. They're like cats. Cats look you right in the eye, mano a mano. You can't fool a cat and you can't fool a cockatoo. You can fool dogs however. Dogs are great, but they are seduced by kind words and the hope of a pat. Cats are cynics. Hell, they've been burned at the stake. Why wouldn't they suss out our intentions before committing themselves?
Was going okay on the book until the computer cacked it, hence writing and warming up in here. Just finished reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Time Travellers Wife. Bless those dear friends who go out and purchase the best sellers. I just wait for them to show up in some op shop. Ditto movies. I know if I wait long enough they'll be on television.
I've been kind to myself however. For years I've hung on to Isobelle Carmody's Darkfall hoping I'd find the sequel. I did. On Fishpond.com.au. Ordered it and two other books by her. They arrived this week. It's like having Christmas all over again. Then I crack open the second book and find there's actually a sequel to the sequel! Ah well, some pleasures are better after prolonged yearning.
Just a quick note about the weather. It's awful. Worst rainfall for January ever. The grass is cooked. Brown and yellow with lashings of faded khaki. I've always welcomed the heat because it brings the rain but this is ridiculous. If we don't get good rain soon we will be in trouble as we'll have nothing left in the paddocks for the horses. I can't even begin to wonder how the birds and critters will fare. This is their time to get fat for the winter. The juvenile galahs have disappeared, including Amos. Is this normal or does it mean something more sinister? We're hand feeding Silda (rainbow) who was released last week. She's still making smoochy faces through the bars to Pablo and now we find that Nidji, who was supposed to be flightless, can fly. We'll hang on to Nidji for awhile, make sure he regards this as home and then release him too which means Pablo will again be on his own. I don't wish for some rainbow to have an injury but we'll have to be on the lookout for another companion. He might be getting a complex by now. This is the third bird he's lived with.
With much anticipation went to yoga with a couple of friends. It was a new 10 week Hatha yoga course. Unfortunately it was a very beginner course and I feel confident that I can handle a bit more than what was on offer. Overheard the instructor say that at the end we'd be doing real postures. Ack! The other thing that didn't sit well with me was the meditation. I've just got a thing, unreasonable as it is, about starting a class with a meditation and then having another at the end. I'd rather have one at the end, when the body has been warmed up, stretched and then cooled down. The postures themselves, with the focus on breathing, are a kind of meditation. They still the mind and bring me into the present. So the search continues.
Dimitri is starting to trust me a wee bit more. If I didn't follow our interaction so intensely I probably wouldn't notice it but it is definitely happening. He's more willing to wait and see what I'm up to before he hurries away. Sometimes he doesn't move when I have to pass him to get to the cages, he just watches. He's targeting well when he's in the mood. More often now he wants to come directly to the seed dish for treats and as it's sitting very close to me on the floor I let him. Last night and this morning he was closer than he'd ever been. I decided to slowly move my hands about, nonchalantly dropping one hand to my knee or lifting it to wipe the sweat from my face (literally - very warm and humid here). Sometimes he'd walk away a step and then resume eating. Other times he didn't budge. Very happy with that. He's also more responsive to my voice. If I tell him it's all right, he does listen. I've also been c/ting him for looking me in the eye. I think part of the lack of connection was the lack of eye contact. Not the staring predator sort of eye contact but a quick look in the eye so that he sees me as ME and not some huge behemoth waiting to pounce on him.
That's the thing with cockatoos, no matter if it's a cockatiel or a sulphur crested. There is so much somebody in there when you look into their eyes. A thinking feeling being. It's humbling. They're like cats. Cats look you right in the eye, mano a mano. You can't fool a cat and you can't fool a cockatoo. You can fool dogs however. Dogs are great, but they are seduced by kind words and the hope of a pat. Cats are cynics. Hell, they've been burned at the stake. Why wouldn't they suss out our intentions before committing themselves?
Was going okay on the book until the computer cacked it, hence writing and warming up in here. Just finished reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Time Travellers Wife. Bless those dear friends who go out and purchase the best sellers. I just wait for them to show up in some op shop. Ditto movies. I know if I wait long enough they'll be on television.
I've been kind to myself however. For years I've hung on to Isobelle Carmody's Darkfall hoping I'd find the sequel. I did. On Fishpond.com.au. Ordered it and two other books by her. They arrived this week. It's like having Christmas all over again. Then I crack open the second book and find there's actually a sequel to the sequel! Ah well, some pleasures are better after prolonged yearning.
Just a quick note about the weather. It's awful. Worst rainfall for January ever. The grass is cooked. Brown and yellow with lashings of faded khaki. I've always welcomed the heat because it brings the rain but this is ridiculous. If we don't get good rain soon we will be in trouble as we'll have nothing left in the paddocks for the horses. I can't even begin to wonder how the birds and critters will fare. This is their time to get fat for the winter. The juvenile galahs have disappeared, including Amos. Is this normal or does it mean something more sinister? We're hand feeding Silda (rainbow) who was released last week. She's still making smoochy faces through the bars to Pablo and now we find that Nidji, who was supposed to be flightless, can fly. We'll hang on to Nidji for awhile, make sure he regards this as home and then release him too which means Pablo will again be on his own. I don't wish for some rainbow to have an injury but we'll have to be on the lookout for another companion. He might be getting a complex by now. This is the third bird he's lived with.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Jackpot Dimitri and the Faf-about
Banner day today. Dimitri, after deciding to have a pellet breakfast, was still interested enough to come down from the tree perch and make straight for the ball. Jackpotted him for that. Oh happy day! He did it a few more times before wandering off to climb the T-stand. But that was enough, after he'd eaten too. What a smart bird!
Have started the PBAS mini lessons finally. Didn't want to start until after the holidays, then my monitor died, but we're up and rolling. Even the first lesson I found hard. The use of language is such a habit -to define behaviours with vague descriptions instead of what is actually happening. Made me really think about what I've observed with Dimitri and then to put those observations into a language that wasn't one of constructs (see I've learned a new word already!). Then the final question, with some observed behaviours and what our construct might be - had two different answers with opposite meanings. Thought it could either be happy or aggressive. Am sure I will be set straight.
Very hot today, sweat pouring down my face as I write. Haven't done any yoga for 2 days and feel it. Was ill day before yesterday (menopausal cluster headaches-damn things) and still a bit seedy yesterday. No excuse today however. Must get into good habits. When I'm working I'm up at 5 and into a yoga session. When I'm not, as I haven't this entire week, I sleep in and when I do get up at 6, the animals are clamouring for breakfast. Then I have breakfast with R and the day is well and truly started. Have to lift my game and get some kind of program going. Have been good and answered unanswered emails (still working on a snail mail to my aunt) and tidied up some loose ends. Haven't touched The Book.
Quite annoyed with myself too for in that halfway state between waking and sleeping I thought of some device that would move the book forward. I was excited enough with the idea that I didn't bother writing it down as I was sure I'd remember. Wrong! Been bugging me ever since. Guess the only way forward is to start writing and see where it leads.
While on holiday I've done a little backsliding re spider solitaire. Have played my last game for awhile (gosh, I hate admiting in public, and even though no one reads this but me it is still possibly public, that I'm such a slouch. Here I had a week off and I could have written another 5 to 7000 words - but nope, I just faffed around and tryed to look languorous - course the monitor died but that's no excuse as I wasn't without it for more than a couple of days). Anyway, my goal today is yoga and writing and now that I've bared my soul in here I may as well get to it.
Have started the PBAS mini lessons finally. Didn't want to start until after the holidays, then my monitor died, but we're up and rolling. Even the first lesson I found hard. The use of language is such a habit -to define behaviours with vague descriptions instead of what is actually happening. Made me really think about what I've observed with Dimitri and then to put those observations into a language that wasn't one of constructs (see I've learned a new word already!). Then the final question, with some observed behaviours and what our construct might be - had two different answers with opposite meanings. Thought it could either be happy or aggressive. Am sure I will be set straight.
Very hot today, sweat pouring down my face as I write. Haven't done any yoga for 2 days and feel it. Was ill day before yesterday (menopausal cluster headaches-damn things) and still a bit seedy yesterday. No excuse today however. Must get into good habits. When I'm working I'm up at 5 and into a yoga session. When I'm not, as I haven't this entire week, I sleep in and when I do get up at 6, the animals are clamouring for breakfast. Then I have breakfast with R and the day is well and truly started. Have to lift my game and get some kind of program going. Have been good and answered unanswered emails (still working on a snail mail to my aunt) and tidied up some loose ends. Haven't touched The Book.
Quite annoyed with myself too for in that halfway state between waking and sleeping I thought of some device that would move the book forward. I was excited enough with the idea that I didn't bother writing it down as I was sure I'd remember. Wrong! Been bugging me ever since. Guess the only way forward is to start writing and see where it leads.
While on holiday I've done a little backsliding re spider solitaire. Have played my last game for awhile (gosh, I hate admiting in public, and even though no one reads this but me it is still possibly public, that I'm such a slouch. Here I had a week off and I could have written another 5 to 7000 words - but nope, I just faffed around and tryed to look languorous - course the monitor died but that's no excuse as I wasn't without it for more than a couple of days). Anyway, my goal today is yoga and writing and now that I've bared my soul in here I may as well get to it.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
dimitri dreaming
More than a month has elapsed since the last post. Feel it too. Miss the chance to write, like being stopped up and needing to unplug. Anyway, while I remember I want to record a dream. I was in an unfamiliar house and went upstairs. In a bare room with windows were 3 or 4 cages with birds. Some were galahs but there was also a sulphur crested cockatoo. The cages were clean and filled with fresh water and seed but I was still horrified as I either didn't know these birds lived here (who was looking after them?) or did know and hadn't bothered to check on them. The galahs were flightless, likes the ones I have; broken wings or the like but it was the S. C. cockatoo that broke my heart. He was feathered but the feathers were thin and wispy, like an old man going bald. I got him out of the cage and he was so desperate for touch that he melted into my arms, snuggling and pressing as close as he could. So I cuddled and stroked him and the love and relief he felt was almost tangible. There was something about getting him into a larger cage rather than a cocky cage, or setting him free but the details are fuzzy.
As usual I have no idea how to interpret this dream. Perhaps it relates to Dimitri. It always comes back to Dimitri. A couple of weeks ago, while in that half state between sleeping and walking I had an epiphany. We had not made any progress whatsoever. I could feed him by hand but it was the same story, sometimes he would take the treat, other times he would back away as though I was coming at him with a hatchet. That morning, however, I recognized I'd positioned his tree stand all wrong. I'm so assiduous in telling clients that birds need to have a safe place, a place where they feel protected, where they can hide if they want and I hadn't followed that most elementary of advice for Dimitri. His tree stand was positioned out in the open, the open being he had the verandah wrap around screens in front and french doors into our bedroom in the back. He was always exposed, poor thing and I was too dumb to notice.
The very next day I moved his tree stand against the wall beyond the living room french doors so he always has something at his back. I can't do anything about the wrap around screens but as he is under cover with a wall at his back I trust he feels safer. He acts as though he does. I put a perch in the place where the tree stand used to be so that he can reach his vegetable skewer and have a change of perspective if he wishes - and sometimes he does. In front of the double doors (screened) leading outside, I've placed a large bark covered and very chewable branch. He uses that too. To guard against falls I've surrounded the tree perch with pillows and saddle pads. He rarely jumps now but sometimes he misjudges (and using one wing to try and right himself just throws him more off balance) and falls.
So this has helped. I've also modified my own behaviour. I no longer try and feed him by hand except when he head bobs and shows extreme interest. Instead I just toss millet seed onto the wood table adjoining his tree perch (where his pellets and water are kept) every time I go onto the verandah. Yesterday he voluntarily came over and took some from my fingertips which was lovely. But I didn't push it. If he shows any hesitation I lower my arm or back off.
I've also been c/t'ing him to target a plastic ball with a bell inside it. It is obvious to me now that the clicker made him nervous. Not because of the noise but because of the intensity with which I attempted to *train*. The intensity of a predator. So it is taking much longer for him to target the ball because of that. I'm not worried however as I finally feel I am on the right track with him. The more I know him the more obvious it becomes that he is an extremely sensitive bird and my tramping through his life with hob-nailed boots, despite good intentions, has had a deleterious effect. This morning was the first time he intentionally touched the ball for a treat. I was chuffed.
It all ties into yoga. With the intensity of my wanting to be friends I actually made it more difficult for us to be so. Now, with the mindset that we will go at his speed rather than me trying to force it it is starting to happen. Which of course means removing my ego from the equation. I could fool myself (and did) with saying that I wanted to be friends for his own good. For instance, he hasn't had a bath since he's been here. That's months. No way could I mist him yet every time it rains he gets excited and I know he wants to be out in it hanging upside down like any good cockatoo. For him to enjoy the rain I'd have to get him in the cage, which he hates, and take that outside - very stressful, or allow him outside under his own steam. But in order to get him back in again I'd have to towel him or chase him back up the steps. Disaster. So for his own happiness he had to be friends with me. Not a very successful precept.
Strange too that I am more relaxed around him as I don't have an agenda anymore. Well, that's not entirely true or I wouldn't try and shape him to touch the ball but as the ball is on the floor he can walk away if he feels it's too stressful - and he does. More and more, however, he chooses to hang around and get treats for walking in the right direction and jackpots for actually touching it even if it's only accidentally. I'm very happy for both of us.
As usual I have no idea how to interpret this dream. Perhaps it relates to Dimitri. It always comes back to Dimitri. A couple of weeks ago, while in that half state between sleeping and walking I had an epiphany. We had not made any progress whatsoever. I could feed him by hand but it was the same story, sometimes he would take the treat, other times he would back away as though I was coming at him with a hatchet. That morning, however, I recognized I'd positioned his tree stand all wrong. I'm so assiduous in telling clients that birds need to have a safe place, a place where they feel protected, where they can hide if they want and I hadn't followed that most elementary of advice for Dimitri. His tree stand was positioned out in the open, the open being he had the verandah wrap around screens in front and french doors into our bedroom in the back. He was always exposed, poor thing and I was too dumb to notice.
The very next day I moved his tree stand against the wall beyond the living room french doors so he always has something at his back. I can't do anything about the wrap around screens but as he is under cover with a wall at his back I trust he feels safer. He acts as though he does. I put a perch in the place where the tree stand used to be so that he can reach his vegetable skewer and have a change of perspective if he wishes - and sometimes he does. In front of the double doors (screened) leading outside, I've placed a large bark covered and very chewable branch. He uses that too. To guard against falls I've surrounded the tree perch with pillows and saddle pads. He rarely jumps now but sometimes he misjudges (and using one wing to try and right himself just throws him more off balance) and falls.
So this has helped. I've also modified my own behaviour. I no longer try and feed him by hand except when he head bobs and shows extreme interest. Instead I just toss millet seed onto the wood table adjoining his tree perch (where his pellets and water are kept) every time I go onto the verandah. Yesterday he voluntarily came over and took some from my fingertips which was lovely. But I didn't push it. If he shows any hesitation I lower my arm or back off.
I've also been c/t'ing him to target a plastic ball with a bell inside it. It is obvious to me now that the clicker made him nervous. Not because of the noise but because of the intensity with which I attempted to *train*. The intensity of a predator. So it is taking much longer for him to target the ball because of that. I'm not worried however as I finally feel I am on the right track with him. The more I know him the more obvious it becomes that he is an extremely sensitive bird and my tramping through his life with hob-nailed boots, despite good intentions, has had a deleterious effect. This morning was the first time he intentionally touched the ball for a treat. I was chuffed.
It all ties into yoga. With the intensity of my wanting to be friends I actually made it more difficult for us to be so. Now, with the mindset that we will go at his speed rather than me trying to force it it is starting to happen. Which of course means removing my ego from the equation. I could fool myself (and did) with saying that I wanted to be friends for his own good. For instance, he hasn't had a bath since he's been here. That's months. No way could I mist him yet every time it rains he gets excited and I know he wants to be out in it hanging upside down like any good cockatoo. For him to enjoy the rain I'd have to get him in the cage, which he hates, and take that outside - very stressful, or allow him outside under his own steam. But in order to get him back in again I'd have to towel him or chase him back up the steps. Disaster. So for his own happiness he had to be friends with me. Not a very successful precept.
Strange too that I am more relaxed around him as I don't have an agenda anymore. Well, that's not entirely true or I wouldn't try and shape him to touch the ball but as the ball is on the floor he can walk away if he feels it's too stressful - and he does. More and more, however, he chooses to hang around and get treats for walking in the right direction and jackpots for actually touching it even if it's only accidentally. I'm very happy for both of us.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Dreams and the Not So True
From the window I see four horses exchanging gossip around the water trough. Two tails swish; perhaps they're not happy about the subject. "Is it a rumour that we'll have to stay in this over eaten paddock because She says we're too fat? Surely not. I can still see my knees."
Barely. Freya and Dakota both have crests of fat on their neck. My forefinger sinks into flab before I can find a rib on Drifter and Pagan has no waist. Only Balthazar, being the streamlined thoroughbred that he is, looks about right. They'll just have to tough it out. The only other alternative, and one which will have to be introduced later in the summer, is shutting them up in the yards for most of the day. Everyone, including me, hates that. But it's better than foundering.
On another subject altogether. I was thinking about the nature of truth today. Yeah, the big philosophical subject. Truth and how little of it I manage to write. Was it Hemingway that spoke about the difficulty in writing one true sentence. His writing is so spare yet powerful (must reread him one day). But I'm skirting around the subject. I don't write the truth in here. I haven't learned how. Sure, I write about this and that, the outward happenings but as soon as I start to zero in on what I'm really thinking or feeling, the censor raises it's mighty head and silences me with a 'what if'. What if someone read this. What if I'll be judged. What if I'm not really a nice girl with nice thoughts and nice intentions? I wouldn't know the truth if it reared up and bit me. Sometimes I think of something that I think I'll write about; something of importance (at least to me - because it's the Truth) and just as quickly I'll forget about what it was I was going to write about. I am concerned with vanity and other people's opinions (did I write about, truthfully write about my well-deserved humiliation and shame of a few weeks ago? No, it made me look bad. Because I was bad and it's important to myself that I lie enough to keep the illusion alive).
How difficult can it be? Bloody difficult. Nigh impossible. But I'll never write one good sentence unless I can rip the veneer away. It takes more bravery than I possess to be an honest human being - and I'm not talking about garden variety honesty. I've no difficulty with that kind of honesty. It's the honesty within myself that I don't access.
Woke from a nightmare last night. Driving along at night with the headlights illuminating a verge teeming with big red bears. Bears and wolves? Bears and wolves and moose? There were two other frightening critters on this one lane road but I don't remember what they were. Got to a house, my house although I didn't recognize it, and somehow made it inside. Went into my sister's room. White bedspread on a neatly made bed. Two scarves, one red, one dark hanging from one of the posts of the fourposter. Something, I don't know what, on the foot of the bed. But she wasn't there. Hadn't been there for quite a while. It felt empty and abandoned. Went to my room which had a bathroom/shower attached. Closed and locked the doors, drew the curtains but could hear the bears snuffling and crashing through the shrubbery outside. I was so frightened I woke up. Yet the bears, as I drove through them and while in the house, didn't try and attack. No broad bear paws swiping at the car. No yellow bear teeth tearing at the house. Just me and the dark and the sounds of bears being bears.
Now I think dreams that are powerful enough to wake me have a powerful message. Not that I know what that message is, I don't. Bears, bare? Nakedness. The nakedness of truth-telling? What about my sister and that spartan bed. I remember thinking at the time that it was like a blank sheet of paper, waiting to be written on. Yet it was abandoned. Who abandoned it? Me. I don't live up to my sisters expectations. I love her yet I feel distant from her too (now here's a bit of truth). We found during our last trip together, how we tiptoe around one another. Here I was thinking she was the one with the chip on her shoulder (and I was the good girl with the easy going temperament) and she thought the exact same thing of me. I don't get it. I really don't. Tiptoeing around my sister. Impossible. Unheard of! She's the only person who really knows me. But perhaps not so much any more. We have spent too much time apart, led lives that are vastly different so although our beginnings were shared (and no one understands the family home like a sibling), it is no longer the majority of our lives. And what about those scarves, although they were more like squares of cloth than scarves that were meant to be worn. What is the significance of them?
Many years ago I kept a dream diary. I dutifully wrote down every dream I remembered, and I remembered lots! Kept a notebook by the bed and wrote down key words and passages as soon as I awoke. Transcribed them into the journal and then attempted to interpret them. It was abysmal. I think I successfully interpreted one dream from the hundreds I recorded. How do I know? There was a Eureka feeling. Unmistakable. I just knew it was true. A warm wash of success and release. All I ever got from the other dreams was frustration.
But it made me think. Who dreams these dreams? Why are the dreams so inaccessible? Why is it important that they are impossible to interpret and understand? What danger is there in understanding dreams? What am I hiding from myself that is so dangerous? No suppressed memories here. I wasn't abused by either parent or any other person until I was 17 - and by then even though it knocked me for six for a few years, I eventually recovered. My life is happy and well rounded. I don't suffer from bouts of depression. I'm generally happy and content - so why the mystery?
There was another snippet too, of me thrusting my face into another face and saying, "Boy-yea, not Boy-er." My middle name is Boyer, like Charles Boyer, French not English. So, what was all that about?
Barely. Freya and Dakota both have crests of fat on their neck. My forefinger sinks into flab before I can find a rib on Drifter and Pagan has no waist. Only Balthazar, being the streamlined thoroughbred that he is, looks about right. They'll just have to tough it out. The only other alternative, and one which will have to be introduced later in the summer, is shutting them up in the yards for most of the day. Everyone, including me, hates that. But it's better than foundering.
On another subject altogether. I was thinking about the nature of truth today. Yeah, the big philosophical subject. Truth and how little of it I manage to write. Was it Hemingway that spoke about the difficulty in writing one true sentence. His writing is so spare yet powerful (must reread him one day). But I'm skirting around the subject. I don't write the truth in here. I haven't learned how. Sure, I write about this and that, the outward happenings but as soon as I start to zero in on what I'm really thinking or feeling, the censor raises it's mighty head and silences me with a 'what if'. What if someone read this. What if I'll be judged. What if I'm not really a nice girl with nice thoughts and nice intentions? I wouldn't know the truth if it reared up and bit me. Sometimes I think of something that I think I'll write about; something of importance (at least to me - because it's the Truth) and just as quickly I'll forget about what it was I was going to write about. I am concerned with vanity and other people's opinions (did I write about, truthfully write about my well-deserved humiliation and shame of a few weeks ago? No, it made me look bad. Because I was bad and it's important to myself that I lie enough to keep the illusion alive).
How difficult can it be? Bloody difficult. Nigh impossible. But I'll never write one good sentence unless I can rip the veneer away. It takes more bravery than I possess to be an honest human being - and I'm not talking about garden variety honesty. I've no difficulty with that kind of honesty. It's the honesty within myself that I don't access.
Woke from a nightmare last night. Driving along at night with the headlights illuminating a verge teeming with big red bears. Bears and wolves? Bears and wolves and moose? There were two other frightening critters on this one lane road but I don't remember what they were. Got to a house, my house although I didn't recognize it, and somehow made it inside. Went into my sister's room. White bedspread on a neatly made bed. Two scarves, one red, one dark hanging from one of the posts of the fourposter. Something, I don't know what, on the foot of the bed. But she wasn't there. Hadn't been there for quite a while. It felt empty and abandoned. Went to my room which had a bathroom/shower attached. Closed and locked the doors, drew the curtains but could hear the bears snuffling and crashing through the shrubbery outside. I was so frightened I woke up. Yet the bears, as I drove through them and while in the house, didn't try and attack. No broad bear paws swiping at the car. No yellow bear teeth tearing at the house. Just me and the dark and the sounds of bears being bears.
Now I think dreams that are powerful enough to wake me have a powerful message. Not that I know what that message is, I don't. Bears, bare? Nakedness. The nakedness of truth-telling? What about my sister and that spartan bed. I remember thinking at the time that it was like a blank sheet of paper, waiting to be written on. Yet it was abandoned. Who abandoned it? Me. I don't live up to my sisters expectations. I love her yet I feel distant from her too (now here's a bit of truth). We found during our last trip together, how we tiptoe around one another. Here I was thinking she was the one with the chip on her shoulder (and I was the good girl with the easy going temperament) and she thought the exact same thing of me. I don't get it. I really don't. Tiptoeing around my sister. Impossible. Unheard of! She's the only person who really knows me. But perhaps not so much any more. We have spent too much time apart, led lives that are vastly different so although our beginnings were shared (and no one understands the family home like a sibling), it is no longer the majority of our lives. And what about those scarves, although they were more like squares of cloth than scarves that were meant to be worn. What is the significance of them?
Many years ago I kept a dream diary. I dutifully wrote down every dream I remembered, and I remembered lots! Kept a notebook by the bed and wrote down key words and passages as soon as I awoke. Transcribed them into the journal and then attempted to interpret them. It was abysmal. I think I successfully interpreted one dream from the hundreds I recorded. How do I know? There was a Eureka feeling. Unmistakable. I just knew it was true. A warm wash of success and release. All I ever got from the other dreams was frustration.
But it made me think. Who dreams these dreams? Why are the dreams so inaccessible? Why is it important that they are impossible to interpret and understand? What danger is there in understanding dreams? What am I hiding from myself that is so dangerous? No suppressed memories here. I wasn't abused by either parent or any other person until I was 17 - and by then even though it knocked me for six for a few years, I eventually recovered. My life is happy and well rounded. I don't suffer from bouts of depression. I'm generally happy and content - so why the mystery?
There was another snippet too, of me thrusting my face into another face and saying, "Boy-yea, not Boy-er." My middle name is Boyer, like Charles Boyer, French not English. So, what was all that about?
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