Part of growing up involves being desensitized to sad and upsetting things. As children we are shielded from sex, violence, drug use, and even certain words through PG, PG 13, and R ratings. Our parents seek to explain the “tough” issues in a way that simplifies and glosses over details that might traumatize us or give us nightmares. Another method is teaching children how the world works early, although it might be painful. Children naturally react strongly to loss, pain, and separation. As you become an adult, some of the tragedy in life becomes easier to bear. As I watched the trailer for a new documentary called The Ghosts in Our Machine, I remembered something I hadn’t thought about in a long time- the 4-H livestock auction at the county fair I attended as a middle schooler. 

In the rural area of Ohio I grew up in, most of the kids were in 4-H. In the fall, we showed off the projects we had worked on all summer at the county fair. Many of the projects involved raising an animal that you cared for through out the year and then showed at the fair (maybe even win a ribbon). The inevitable conclusion of the fair was when you would sell your animal at the auction  where they are bid on by the pound. If you raise a larger animal, like a cow or pig, you could make hundreds of dollars (and for a country kid that’s a fortune). 

Although we had cattle at my parent’s farm, my interests lay in showing horses- the one animal that wasn’t auctioned off for meat. But, a lot of my childhood friends had steers, chickens, goats, rabbits, and sheep. One friend in particular had lamb at the fair, along with her horse. I forget his name now, but the lamb was very tame and docile. Since we got the whole week off school for the fair, a couple of other kids and I decided to watch her sell the sheep at the 4-H auction.

Although everyone knows that ultimately you have to sell your animals and that they will be killed soon after, the reality doesn’t seem to sink in for a lot of kids until they are leading their faithful animals around the ring for the last time. From our seats in the bleachers we could see our friend as she began to cry. Tears streamed down her red cheeks as she grasped the lead rope to her chest. Sitting beside us, her mother sighed, and muttered “Come on, Honey, pull it together.” By this time, the rest of us were crying too. 

After the bidding had ended on the sheep, the winning buyer signaled that he wanted to send the sheep straight to the slaughterhouse to be butchered. As she led him out of the ring, my friend was openly sobbing. 

After that year, she only showed horses with me and never took another “meat” project. And I would not become a vegetarian for many more years. I wonder now how we were all able to walk away from that without learning anything. As children, we wept for the sheep, wept because we knew it was about to die. The adults said that children need to learn where food comes from, and get over their sentimentality so that they can be the food-producers of the future.

Having compassion and being sensitive to the suffering of other beings is not something we should be made to “grow out of.” We make fun of compassion and empathy for animals, and praise compassion and empathy for other humans. This deeply flawed thinking needs to end for the next phase of our moral evolution to begin. Compassion for all living things should be cherished and encouraged. Standing up for what you know is right, even though it isn’t popular should be revered. This is the core of our humanity. 

I did learn a lesson from my friend’s lamb, although it took some time to register. As he was loaded on a truck bound for the slaughterhouse, separated from his family,  betrayed by the humans he trusted, I was getting ice cream with my friends to cheer ourselves up. By the time he was killed, we had all forgotten him, almost. 

A Feminist Perspective Reveals the Scentific Explanation for the  (Nearly)          Lost World of Mermaids, Selkies, Ladies of the Lake, and Sirens

Recently, I read of a scientific hypothesis called “the aquatic ape theory.” (It’s not really a theory like, you know gravity or anything but go with it for now). Writers like William Bond and Elaine Morgan are feminists who try to bring it to public attention, but it was actually first proposed by scientists Max Westenhofer in 1942, then Alex Hardy in 1960. It explains why humans have a layer of fat (like blubber) under our skin, why we can hold out breath (controlled breathing), and why we are mostly hairless. These traits are otherwise unique to marine mammals, (except for elephants and rhinos  who have a marine ancestor, and naked mole rats who live entirely underground). The theory suggests out ape ancestor moved close to the shores and beaches of Africa to find food. There is a ton of food in and around a beach, and it was safer from predators. During this time they developed adaptations have helped other aquatic mammals. Walking upright helped them wade into deeper water, and they became powerful swimmers. They also ate lots of omega 3 rich food; which is good for your big giant brain. Eventually, they headed back inland and started on their merry way north, but you know the rest of the story.  This theory was proposed way back in the 40’s, and seems to explain a lot that the normal story of our evolution leaves out. So why have you never heard of it? 

Sailors all over the world from ancient history all the way up to the 1800s have reported seeing mermaids. Proponents of the aquatic ape theory believe they were telling the truth. Women have more fat and less body hair than men, and our anatomy makes us better candidates for swimming in, ahem, cold water. In Korea and Japan to this day there are women who dive to the rocky sea floor to collect food. This tradition, that has existed since the dawn of man, is now in danger of dying out. The Korean Haenyo women are mostly old ladies, since like so many indigenous people who have recently been exposed to moderity, the young people do not want to follow in their ancestor’s footprints.  They have trained their bodies to adjust to the cold water, and the tradition of the women divers is older than anyone can remember-probably thousands of years. Before being “discovered” by the outside world, they swam naked. The advantages of doing so are obvious; you arnt weighed down by wet cloth, you dry faster, you are more streamline and fast in the water. What if, once, there was a tradition of these foraging female swimmers on coasts all over the world? There are several other documented tribes with female divers that were wiped out by colonization, but what about in Europe? 

It is very possible that they were written out of the history books and into mythology. History, up until VERY recently was written by men exclusively. Western patriarchal society has existed in one form or another for hundreds and hundreds of years. Imagine, that in ancient societies where some or all of the women are the breadwinners, that the men must have taken care of the children by day. This would not fit into what Confucius or the Catholic church thought should be happening. Witch hunting was a fun pass-time back in the day, and everyone agrees it was a good way to eradicate and silence strong willed, independent women. One of the ways you could tell if someone was a witch was to  dunk her in the water for several minutes. If she drown she was innocent (oops!), but if she didn’t she was a witch (so then you could burn her or whatever method of execution you preferred.) This could have been a way to identify and get rid of traditional female divers who rejected the idea giving up their livelihoods and becoming submissive housewives. There would have been a few places when this tradition might have kept on a bit longer, like norther Scotland, where sightings of selkies (shape shifter women on land and seals in the water) were frequent. 

Have you ever longed for the sea? 

I know I do. There is something about it that calls to us; not just the beauty or mystery, but something deeper. Something like the protectiveness you feel for a loved one, or the fear you feel when it’s dark outside. I think it’s very possible that  like these examples, our love of beaches and water an instinct from our evolution. It is sad to me that the patriarchal prejudices can affect science. It is time to take a hard look at history, open our minds to the possibility that mermaids once were vital to our survival. 

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals… We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far beneath ourselves. And therein we err, we greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complex than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.” -Henry Beston

Lately I’ve been doing a dangerous thing for one’s mental health- reading the news and learning about the latest and institutionalized injustices in the world. The latest atrocities in Sudan and Afghanistan, the continued persecution of the glbt community around the world, the continued hunting of whales and other endangered animals, dog fighting in America’s cities, religious leaders attacking women’s health, the fact that Rick Santorum is taken seriously by anyone…

Unbeknownst to me all of this had been causing anger, confusion, and sadness to build in me until it congealed into a ball of despair at the back of my throat. I think we all know this feeling, to be on the edge of an emotional breakdown, hoping you’ll be alone in your bathroom, and not in public when it erupts.

What tipped the scales were two things. First, for work I had to go to a lunch conference at a mega church down the road. The lunch was sponsored by Chick-Fil-A. The boxes containing a fried chicken sandwiches had a picture of a cow on them and read “Eat More Chickin.” The woman sitting next to me informed me of what a great Christian company it is-they provided free meals for her last anti-abortion protest. For the 100th time that day, I bit my tongue, (and the apple I had brought from home). The conflicting feelings and moral quandaries that arise when you’re an liberal vegetarian atheist who works at a church can be exhausting. 

Second, one of the reasons I moved to Lexington because it is the self proclaimed “horse capitol of the world.” Everywhere there are gorgeous horse farms with black and white fences as far as the eye can see. So many people here are horse lovers, animal lovers. This past weekend I volunteered at an ex-race horse adoption center, where retired horses are retrained to be ridden for show and pleasure. It was a great experience and I can’t wait to go back. 

But it made me wonder, since racehorses retire when they are only 3 or 4, but can live to be 20-30, how many of them really are adopted, put out to pasture, or kept for breeding? And how many ended up at livestock auctions where they are ultimately  sent for slaughter, like the ones in Amish country where I grew up?

I found out. Two out of three retired racehorses are euthanized or slaughtered for meat. Reading this broke my heart and was the final straw. I have had moments like these before, where I feel like I’ve just taken the red pill and can see beyond the matrix to the horror of reality. 

And so, when my boss walked in to ask how I was doing, I burst into tears. Now, I can imagine how crazy I sounded to someone having  a normal, mellow day. But having dealt with plenty of unstable people, he pulled up a chair and gave me a tissue.

“Why are you upset Molly?”

“Because all of the horses are getting abused and killed and eaten and its horrible! Because no one cares about anything!! Horrible things are happening today and will happen tomorrow and there’s nothing I can do about it!!”

“Well it’s sweet that you have a tender heart and care about people and animals so much.  I should be more like you. But maybe you should stay away from the news, from facebook. I’ve started doing that because every time I heard about Rick Santorum I get angry, and there’s no use in that. I already know I’m not going to vote for him so why waste energy? It doesn’t do us any good to get upset over and over about things. Bless your heart.”

Thankfully, my boss is understanding (and a democrat), but its embarrassing to loose control in front of your boss, no matter who they are. Angry at myself and still feeling like I could bawl for days, I couldn’t go back to work. SNAP OUT OF IT! I kept telling myself.

I decided to make tea. I took out a mug and filled it 3/4 with water and put it in the microwave for a minute and a half. I put in the tea bag and swirled it around with a spoon for a few minutes until the water was the perfect shade of dark brownish red.  I took out my vanilla soy creamer from the fridge, shook it, and carefully poured in a few teaspoons. I took a minute to inhale the tea, orange, and vanilla steam. Hot black tea with milk is one of the most comforting beverages by far. And by the time I took a sip I had begun to feel better.

You mind can make you happy, sad, or crazy. Sometimes it needs a rest. After taking a red pill of truth in life you will not be able to go back to the way things were. Whether its learning Santa doesn’t exist, that you will never look like the models magazines, that you can’t stop all the suffering in the world,  or that you can’t prevent those you love from dying some day, you must (for a time at least) push sad things away, stop reading the details of every tragedy, and do something mundane, like making tea.  

Much has happened in these last few months. The return from Korea was a relief to be sure, Nola and I arrived safely in Columbus the end of August, and remained at the Cox farm until November. The transition to being back in North America after a year was surprisingly fluid. Instead of reverse culture shock, I experienced more of a reverse culture delight when people smiled and waved hello instead of blankly staring, drive instead of relying on buses or taxis, eat everything i love instead of settling for rice and soup daily. There will of course always be a special place in my soul for Korea, but on the whole it is good to be back under Uncle Sam’s glorious top hat.

Now MOVING ON to the next course my life has taken. It was lovely being home spending time with my family and seeing my dearest friends who I had missed desperately. The simple pleasure of drinking by a bonfire with friends who’ve known you your entire life cannot be matched. That being said, there soon came a time where I knew I needed to move on once again. After a month at home, the gas my parents use for the heat, hot water heater, and dryer actually become poisonous, and the gas company refused to fix the problem. Thus during the majority of my stay, we were without heat, hot water, or the ability to do laundry. As much as I love my parents and the farm, I am a person who needs a clean, neat living space or I am utterly miserable. The search for a job was also becoming completely disheartening. No one ever wanted to interview a stranger from another state. While visiting southeastern Ohio can be nice, living there has always been completely out of the question (at least until I am old and grumpy enough to retreat from the rest of the world and live in the woods).  And so, Nola and I set our sights on Lexington Kentucky, and we moved down two weeks later.

“Why Lexington, of all places?” People like to ask me. 

“Do you have friends there?” Not anymore.

“Do you have family there?” No.

“Did you find a job there?” Not yet.

And when I answered, a bit bashfully, I wondered if I did make a rather idiotic and hasty decision.  All the decisions I have made in life were rather hasty; where to go to college, what to major in, getting tattoos, going to grad school, moving to Korea, ect, but all have some practicality behind them. I don’t think any of my major life choices has failed either. Something illogical compelled me to choose Lexington Kentucky of all places, but the simple (and practical) fact of the matter is I was bleeding money to no good purpose hanging out at home, and would possibly never have found a job out of state had I not moved. 

And now I have been here a month. My apartment is quite nice, larger than any living space I’ve had before. I have a little patio which is rather useless now, but will be great for flowers and tomatoes in the spring. There is a pool, tennis court and little dog park as well. After only a week I found a job through a temp agency as a secretary. Oddly enough, I am a CHURCH secretary. At first I wondered how long I could handle such a job, believing that religion is a pretty big waste of time, money, and imagination.  I was pleasantly surprised however. It is one of the most liberal churches I have ever seen, accepting members of every color, shape, history, and orientation. The two ministers are very smart, kind, and witty people, and seek to make me as happy as cane be since the last secretary pulled a “midnight run” and quit without any sort of notice. While I do wish I would have been able to find a teaching job, I feel very lucky to have found a relatively easy full time position with ok pay. There’s always next fall to start the cluster-fuck that is applying for teaching jobs. 

Making friends is proving more difficult than before, since I don’t have an instant friend group like when I moved into the dorm in college, or went to orientation in Korea. Times like today (a sunny Friday afternoon), I wish I were back in Columbus where I could call upon friends to take a walk through the Short North, get coffee at Cup O Joe, or go to happy hour at Bodega. Those days are long gone, as we have mostly all been scatted around the country/world. Yesterday my boss said “Yeah, its hard to make friends after college. I didn’t make new friends till I had kids.” Yikes. Well let’s hope it doesn’t take that long. I have met several interesting people, but most often it’s just Nola and I. We go running in the park or shopping on sunny days, read or watch Chopped and Law and Order on rainy days, and chat online with our far away friends at night. While I sometimes think how nice it would be to have another human to cuddle with and share my daily church-lady exploits with, I would say I am content and at peace with life at the moment. Being an only child and living alone the majority of the last 6 years has made me used to having plenty of quite time to myself, and it is not entirely bad or uncomfortable. I quite like Andrea Dorfman’s poem on the subject; you can watch a little video of her performing it below:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs