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Mary and her baby, Tiffany
Back during the hippy segment of my life, when I returned to the land to grow my own food, I was also taken up with a passion for weaving and spinning my own yarn. I decided that in order to do it right, I needed a few sheep and angora goats of my own so that I would have plenty of wool and mohair fleeces with which I could produce fabulous pillows, ponchos, tote bags, and whatever else I thought would sell successfully at the statewide craft shows where I often set up shop.
In preparation for the arrival of my small flock, I called in a neighbor who had a posthole digger on his tractor. He dug holes for the unfenced five acre field next to the barn, and where I would be able to watch my sheep and goats from my kitchen window. Bill and I filled each hole with a strong wooden post, then filled in around each one with the dirt that had been removed. We did the work on weekends and during long, Vermont summer evenings. We were always covered with mud, and when we finished up the work each day, we fell into bed and were fast asleep before we could say goodnight.
The neighbor came back when we were finished and stretched the wire fence all around the perimeter of the field, while Bill and I stapled it in place. Always tired and sweaty, I labored on with excitement over the arrival of my flock. Bill, on the other hand, wasn’t so excited. He loved me and labored on to make me happy.
A few weeks later, Mary, my first angora goat arrived, along with three Romney ewes and a ram. I knew before hand that the fibers in both the goat and sheep fleeces were long stapled, strong, and would be heavenly to work with.
A few days after her arrival, I discovered that Mary, like all critters, including humans, had a personality of her own. She quickly made her preference known for what grew outside of her enclosed pasture.
One morning, as I was weeding my vegetable garden, I heard her bleating and voicing displeasure, letting me know something was amiss. When I went around the corner of the barn, I saw that her head was caught in the fence. Woven of heavy duty wire, the fence was made up of small rectangular holes, about 3” x 5,” near the bottom. On each tier above the bottom one, the holes got larger. Mary had been able to get her head, horns and all, through one of the largest holes so she could reach the irresistible greenery on the other side of the fence.
Down into the field I went to get her out. When I grabbed her horns and tried to guide them out of the hole, she struggled, moving her head up, down and sideways. After five minutes of me cursing and her bleating, I figured out that there was no way I was going to be able to get her out … unless … I cut the wire between the hole she was stuck in and the one next to it. After I cut the wire and got her unstuck, I tried to find the difference between the grass and weeds on both sides of the fence but saw none. For a while, Mary happily ate what was in her own pasture, but still was occasionally tempted by some tasty morsel on the other side of the fence.
At least once every few weeks, I’d be called to the pasture by her persistent bleating, to get her untangled. She, of course, would never use the same hole I’d enlarged before. As I cut more and more wire to get her out, my displeasure grew, not to mention Bill’s. He saw dollar signs every time we had to cut the fence.
Over time as I spun Mary’s fleece into beautiful yarns I colored with natural dyes, I decided I wanted access to more mohair and decided to breed her to a friend’s buck. When tiny Tiffany was born, I was thrilled by her even finer, silky hair. I wanted to breed Mary again. I kept wanting more and more mohair!
Months later, when we visited a friend’s newly renovated home, I had a major attack of kitchen envy. I wanted to go home and demolish my kitchen and start over. For days I dreamt about nothing else, until Mary got her head caught in the fence once again. As I cursed her, I had to ask, “Wasn’t it my envy of a friend’s flock of sheep that got me started on this path?”
I try not to go looking for greener pastures anymore. The grass is greenest right under my own two feet. If envy does creep into my life, I remind myself that wanting what’s on the other side of the fence isn’t always a good thing for me. I never know what I’ll find out there and when I’ve finish whatever it was I thought would be so delicious, I may have to cut my way out of what I spent my precious time and money on.
Have you, like me, every suffered from greed and envy? I’d love to hear your story.
great advice!
Thanks for stopping by, Lynette. I hope you’re having a wonderful summer.
I have at times in my life looked for “greener grasses.” And then one day someone asked, “What is it that YOU want?” This question made me realize that there was an aspect of what someone else had that I wanted — freedom maybe — but if I had that same freedom, I might make a different choice… one that is my very own.
I can point to a period in my life when all this changed. It was when I was working with a life coach, and she asked me to write a vision statement of who I would like to see myself become in 10 years. I asked, “But what about money constraints?” She said, “Pretend there aren’t any.” And so I dared to envision things I had never dared to hope for: earning a college education, learning German, getting books published, going to Europe for a longer stay than a vacation, and doing adult literacy work.
Twelve years later, all this has come about. My heart sometimes swells with gratitude for all that my life is. At the moments when I feel gratitude to the point of my cup overflowing, it is the same as a feeling of great joy. It may be waking up to the another day of sunshine and birdsong outside my window, or reminding myself that every day that I get to spend with the love of my life is another blessing. I get this feeling when I look out over a vista and feel a spiritual connection to God and Mother Nature. At moments like these, I recognize that the lines blur between beauty and love.
So I find it’s what I chose to focus on. If Mary had focused on the grass under her feet, instead of out there beyond the fence, she would have been happily munching on that grass. Maybe as a goat nature didn’t give her the choice of perspective and reflection. But people were given that choice. Learning to envision what I want and then striving and struggling to earn it is so much more rewarding than sitting in the shadows and seeing through green-colored glasses what others have.
Thank you for this thought-provoking post.
Sheep, goats, and you: This story reads like a fable, all the more affecting because I know you personally, Joan. Great takeaway!
What I’ve learned about envy: I have read that comparing your “insides to someone else’s outsides” is an exercise in futility. It simply never works. This is not to say I don’t feel envious twinges at times, part of the human condition after all.
Thanks, Marian. Comparisons of any kind are nothing but silly. Though all of us humans have two arms, and two legs, we are all different and we can never attain what another person has because of those differences. But yes, twinges of envy are all about being human. Thank goodness, most of figure it all out.
Saloma, Thanks so much for your lovely words. That you envisioned and found what you wanted, not what someone else wanted, you’ve climbed to one of the highest peaks in the mountains of life. As you continue to follow your dreams, I send you off with best wishes and all of the blessings that life contains.
Joan — I love your beautifully wordsmithed goat herder story! You reeled me in — hook, line, and sinker!
It’s been many years, but I can remember being envious of the square footage in one person’s home. It was massive. Absolutely massive! As a minimalist, I could picture me filling it with tons of nothing: space to breathe; space to do yoga and tai chi, space to hula hoop and do jump rope if I wanted to.
Thanks so much, Laurie. I can see that massive space you mention and yes, wouldn’t that be delightful.
A great lesson to learn. Appreciating what you have makes you happier than envying what someone else ha, that’s for sure. 🙂
Linda, Yes, gratefulness for who we are and what we have is the key to washing away envy. When we appreciate what we have much of our suffering goes away.
What a sweet essay, Joan. So profound and yet simple. I visualized the whole story. You made the goats as real as the people.
As for envy in my life: my childhood included lots of occasions of envy. When I tried to summarize the theme of my memoir, I saw that envy and pride were central. I pressed my nose to the window of the world and wanted all that glittered. The gold under my feet I couldn’t always see.
If we are lucky, we grow out of most of our envy. It becomes admiration then appreciation then then a purer delight. If sympathy is suffering with perhaps envy becomes enjoyment with.
Thanks so much, Shirley, for your kind words. Yes, I think we do grow out of envy, especially as we age, and begin noticing the suffering of others. It also enables us to be compassionate with those around us and ourselves.
What a lovely story, Joan with a valuable lesson. Yes, I’ve had many moments in my life when I’d wished for greener pastures. The futility of seeking happiness outside myself is a theme in my memoir. One day when I was a single parent of two young children, I went cross country skiing with a good friend. I stopped dead in my tracks in the middle of the woods we were traversing when she asked me ,”What do YOU want?” Such a simple question. The answers were within me all along.What a revelation! Thank you for this beautifully written and thought-provoking post.
Kathy, It is so clear that envy and moving beyond our limits is a big part of our suffering as we move through life. Keeping up with those who have more of what we want, causes us great anger and keeps us from seeing our own divinity. The questions are simple, but to find the answers we must open our heart and our eyes.
Hi Joan, I too found your story fable-like and captivating. thanks for that. And it got me thinking, so thanks for that too. I remember envying a college classmate’s kelly green winter coat. It looked fabulous on her as she walzed into the gym for morning whatever-it-was. I thought (as, I think happens with most envy), “if I had that coat, I’d be as … as she is.” Meaning, I wasn’t enough as it was; I’d be “whole.” Somehow the green coat (or the green grass on the other side) would do the trick. Voila! It’s finding that sense of wholeness, that “enoughness” that’s been my focus for the past third of my life. And, yes, I do still find myself with an occasional “if only I had …” but at least now I can stop myself and explore what else is really going on. Thanks for a provocative post.
Janet, I’m so glad my post brought up a memory for you. A sense of wholeness and enoughness is an absolute necessity if one wants to live an authentic life. My daughter taught her kids about the difference between “want” and “need.” Now when I get thinking about buying something new, I ask myself which one of those this purchase is.