Sogyal Rinpoche
Hootenanny’s Silence
Here I am again.
It’s not a bad place to be. It’s kind of beautiful, although there is a longing in me as well… a sadness at my own frailty…my inability to solidify what I sense and see and hear beyond the physical realm. I know she’s not that far away. I can feel her here next to me, just beyond the veil. But I can’t see her anymore–I can’t touch her. I hear her voice, but it has an ethereal quality to it, not like the laughing bleat of her earthly voice.
Hootenanny is gone.
After thirteen years by my side, my naughty little goat has crossed from this plane to the next, and I can’t see her anymore. I will never catch her butting defenseless roosters, bullying horses out of their food, sticking her tongue out at the pigs as she refuses to let them enter their own house, gleefully eating produce freshly donated by Wegman’s, playing tricks on volunteers as she follows them around “supervising” their work, or sleeping peacefully after a long day of mischief in a soft pile of hay, her head resting on her beloved Ruckus.
I never believed in the maxim that we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Hootenanny was a naughty goat, sometimes even a bully, and I plan to speak of her that way. I loved her maddening antics. I can’t tell you how many times Hootenanny outsmarted me over the years, and I found myself running in circles as she dodged and jumped and narrowly escaped me while I tried in vain to get her to go hang out with the other goats and stop harassing the rest of the peaceful animals at Indraloka.
I remember one time, about five years ago, there was a teenaged boy cleaning the barn. I went to check on him, and found Hootenanny, a broom in her mouth, chasing him around the barn! Shaking with suppressed laughter, instead of coming to his rescue, I quietly backed out to get my camera. Alas, by the time I returned, the volunteer had managed to get his broom back and was busily trying to pull Hootennany’s head out of the feed bin, where she was gorging on sweet feed.
So you see, she was not a good goat. And she was certainly not a gentle goat. Hootenanny was a funny, fierce, stubborn, clever, naughty goat. A goat not easily forgotten. That was my girl. My maddening, ridiculous, lovable little instigator.
A few months ago, Hootenanny fell ill. Despite the valiant efforts of a team of vets and round-the-clock care here at the sanctuary, she fell into a vicious cycle, improving slightly for a few days, and then coming down with new symptoms over and over again, growing weaker every time. Ruckus, her best friend and lifelong companion, spent many an hour grooming and comforting her. Their love for one another was complete, all-encompassing, and unconditional.
On the first full day of spring, in the quiet of the afternoon as the cows and horses napped in the breeze, Hootenanny called me to her side. She fell silent as I knelt beside her, collapsing in my arms. Bent over her with my arms beneath her head, we made close eye contact as I said, “It’s okay, baby. I love you.”
The Anishinaabe death song welled up from deep inside me. The Anishinaabe people say that during the fourth stanza of the death song, the spirit crosses to the star world. And if the eagle comes soon after, we know that her spirit has safely arrived.
I looked her in the eye, cradled her gently, and sang with love, concentrating on her ease and comfort through my tears. As the song began, her eyes flickered for just a moment with her old spark. At the fourth stanza, the light in her eyes faded and her spirit gently lifted out of her body. I cried a bit more and laid her to rest.
Less than an hour later, an eagle swooped down all the way to the barn door, circled the pastures a few times, and then flew high into the sky, fading from sight.
Lamb of God
res·ur·rec·tion n.
1. The act of rising from the dead or returning to life.
2. The state of one who has returned to life.
INTERIOR – LIVESTOCK TRAILER – AUCTION DOCK – DAY
The old, rusty trailer backed in to the loading dock. Inside, a little black lamb shivered against the wall where ewes and nanny goats pressed him and the rest of the babies behind them protectively. They waited, eyes trained on the door.
Cold, empty men’s voices blended with the beseeching howls of bull calfs from inside the building. The dense odors of fear and despair hung in the air as the trailer door screeched open.
Men and boys with sticks tried to force the ewes and nannies away from the babies, but a big, brave billy goat reared up and slammed into the knees of the nearest man. The man stumbled and cursed as he cracked a stick on the billy goat’s head. “Look out boys, this un here’s meeean, best take ’em directly.”
Following orders, a boy picked the goat up and dragged him inside the auction house, where his ear was tagged, “For Slaughter Only”.
EXTERIOR – AUCTION DOCK – DAY
The ewes and nannies were forced off next. The little lamb bleated softly as his mother turned back with one last look of love.
Suddenly, bright light flooded the trailer. The little black lamb looked out and saw some sympathetic humans, quieter and different from the others, on a catwalk above. They were looking right at him with the same kind of love he had seen in his mother’s eyes. He stopped shaking and let the auction men move and tag him, hardly noticing them. The light was shining so brightly that all darkness disappeared.
INTERIOR – AUCTION ARENA – DAY
Finally, the little black lamb found himself pushed into the center of a dingy, cramped ring. A crowded house of blank-eyed humans waited in the gray recesses, bid cards in hand. The lamb looked up and saw the different humans with love in their eyes smiling down at him. A beam of light shone down on the auction ring, and he was filled with a sense of love and peace. The auction handlers were yelling and kicking and seemed intent on something, but it didn’t matter what they were doing. He kept his eyes on the light.
INTERIOR. – LIBERTY CHARIOT (CAR) – DUSK
The next thing he knew, strong, loving arms lifted him gently and placed him in the back of a car, along with the brave billy goat and two more babies. The little black lamb crawled into the woman’s lap and stared into her eyes, where he basked in mother love.
Satya’s Ocean
“Satya can’t be ridden, so she was abandoned.
But she is welcome here.”
Snowflakes like diamonds glistened as they fell. The air itself, cold and clear, was electric with anticipation, celebrating with us. Something magical was happening. Another fate had been altered, another divine being was on her way to Indraloka.
There is nothing more beautiful than to watch hope rise out of despair. There is no greater blessing for us than to take the opportunity to stem cruelty with kindness, to tender love where once only fear resided. For as Rumi once wrote:
“The ocean takes care of each wave until it gets to shore.”
Satya must have sensed the love with which we awaited her arrival. She jumped lightly off the trailer, nose quivering at all the new smells, and pranced confidently into the pasture.
She was magnificent. Statuesque, with a soft coat of silvery-white. Her face looked sculpted, too perfect to be real. Her eyes, a deep liquid brown, were filled with soft light and kindness. It was clear that her outer beauty was merely a reflection of her angelic spirit. Her name came to us in a moment of utter truth: Satya.
Eagerly, Domino and Quicker strained across the fence to meet her, nostrils flaring. We watched, enraptured, as they danced their ancient equine greeting, a ritual rich with timeless grace and subtle meaning.
***************
Satya’s club foot makes her unsuitable for riding or breeding. In most instances, horses like this would be auctioned off and then transported to Mexico or Canada to be slaughtered for human consumption. Satya, however, had the good fortune to find safe haven at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary.
Her pronounced limp means nothing to us. We are happy to give her the best care, to make sure she will always be comfortable and content. We consider it our honor to do so. She is safe now, and has a loving home here for the rest of this life.
I am often asked: Why bother to save just one, what difference does it make? Because we are each just one wave, yet we are also the ocean. One act of lovingkindness brings light to a world of darkness and us closer to Truth.
Welcome, beloved Satya. We will see you safely to the shore.
***************
TO VIEW THE VIDEO OF SATYA’S ARRIVAL, CLICK BELOW:
Bovine Bodhisattva
I knew before I met her that we were bringing her here to die…
She came to us on a mild, sunny day in early summer. Nobody (human) was around the farm.
It would be risky, I supposed, letting her in the pasture with the big cows right away without the customary transition time. And yet, I knew she needed them, and they’d be good to her.
We backed the trailer right into the pasture. As the trailer door swung open, I caught my first glimpse.
Her eyes, a deep, rich, eternal brown, held the radiant clarity of awareness, and a deep kindness that comes with suffering and ageless wisdom. Tears flowed from my eyes as I gazed upon the precious soul who would be among my life’s greatest teachers.
She began to move, and my attention was then drawn to her physical form. My eyes took in the broken little cow that embodied this radiant light. She was 4-5 months old and about 300 pounds. Her coat was a pure, shining black.
Instead of walking, she crabbed forward on gnarled front legs that would never straighten. It was for this reason she was deemed unsuitable as a dairy cow. If she can’t stand, she can’t carry a baby, and therefore can’t produce milk. So, she was going to be slaughtered for meat until we intervened.
When we decided to take her in, I didn’t know if we would need to euthanize her as soon as she arrived, or if she’d be able to live pain-free for a few more months before her body became too big for her legs.
It didn’t matter to me.
I just wanted to give her a peaceful and loving end, and knew a slaughterhouse certainly would not do that for her.
*****************
As it turned out, she was relatively small, so for the moment, her contorted legs could still hold and transport her, albeit slowly and awkwardly.
Patiently, she made her way out of the trailer and onto grass for the first time in her life. The other cows lovingly gathered to greet her, touching their noses to hers. One by one, they each gave her a kiss, and then they all turned back to the pasture to graze together, walking much more slowly than usual so that she could keep up!
Holstein heifers (young cows) grow up to 2 pounds a day during the first 15 months, so I realized that she would not be able to support her own weight for long if we could not fix her legs.
A voice inside said her name was Mo Chridhe, Gaelic for “my heart”. Quickly, I arranged to take her to Dr. Randy Bimes of Quakertown Vet Hospital. Randy specializes in treating lameness in horses, so if anyone could fix Mo’s legs, Randy and his team could.
*************
Unfortunately, yet not surprisingly, the vets were unable to help her, although I was glad we tried. I was reminded our job was not to save her, but to escort her out of this plane with love.
At Indraloka, every animal is showered with affection and healthy treats everyday. We did even more for Mo, and the other cows took it on themselves to do the same. Never was a cow more beloved than our little Mo.
Our intention was to fill her life with peace, love, and joy until it was time to let her go. And yet it was she who filled our lives. But with so much more…
*************
Time and again, when visitors came to meet Mo, they wept at the sight of her, not uttering phrases of pity, but of awe. More than one fell at her feet and cried. She exuded calm compassion and grace, and on each of these supplicants she bestowed a blessing with a gentle look or a soft nudge.
We all learned so much from Mo. She paid no attention to limitations in her physical form. She never seemed stressed or concerned with the need to crab slowly around the pasture instead of cavorting like other young cows do.
As months went by, Mo grazed on grass, enjoyed the company of other cows, and ceaselessly taught us lessons in non attachment. Although she savored each moment and embraced life fully, Mo never sought more than she was given, and always gave of herself freely. By November, she was laying down more, and began to have difficulty holding herself up.
It was time. I spent the days leading up to Mo’s crossing preparing myself, the volunteers and the animals. Our compassionate farm vet Jen agreed that Mo would soon be in pain, and that it would be best to let her go while she was still enjoying life.
Instead of looking to us for comfort, our bovine bodhisattva gave us comfort. This little crippled cow managed to do what so many of us strive for our whole lives. She seemed to live by the words of St. Francis:
…grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love…
Mo was ready.
She was not attached to this life, for she knew that we are all eternal, that this is just one stop on a boundless soul’s journey. Living this example was her greatest teaching. Still, it was unbearable for some to think of losing her light and being plunged into darkness. For, when someone has brought so much light into your life, it is easy to think there will be only darkness in their absence. Mostly, it seemed they would just miss Mo terribly.
Finally, the hour of Mo’s death had arrived. Dr. Jen and I went out to the pasture, where Mo reclined in the lush grass, waiting for us.
The other cows gathered around.
As I held her head in my lap and murmured a loving prayer, Penny and Gus each placed their muzzles tenderly on Mo’s body, Dr. Jen gently administered the shot that would send our Mo out of her body forever.
This is the prayer I prayed as Mo crossed over:
Navajo Beautyway Ceremony
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
Stories from Indraloka Animal Sanctuary 