The Gifts of 2020—Distillation

This past week at the ranch included many masked contractors walking through our house to give estimates, baby guineas, and packing for a possible evacuation that, thank God, never came. If you remember from last week, we saw the above scene Friday evening, from our front porch

Saturday, a new fire cropped up in the hills west of Boulder. By Saturday early evening, farms on the west side of Longmont were being evacuated. A friend who was there said it was, "controlled chaos."

Calwood Fire, west of Boulder and Longmont

They took those horses to the Boulder County Fairgrounds which is in between us and the fire. That settled me some. In reality it would take a LOT for a fire out there to reach us where we are—30 minutes from the foothills in northeast Longmont. All of the evacuation orders were lifted that night and the fire didn't reach Longmont. Whew.

More fires have popped up in the mountains this week and the whole thing has me thinking, again, about what 2020 is teaching us. I wrote about it here, but the fires have brought about a new awareness for me.

2020 is a year of distillation. The definition of distillation is: an act of purifying or the extraction of the essential. 2020 is distilling down, teaching humanity about the most important things. In this pandemic we are learning how hugs, touch, human connection is imperative. We've learned to "make do" with technology: Zoom, Facetime, texting, emailing—but yearn and look forward to the day when we can be together again, maskless, to see our loved one's smiling faces and to hug them close.

The disasters we are seeing up close and personal this year, the fires and hurricanes, are asking us again: what's most important?

When we were wondering if we might be evacuated this past weekend, I called my friend Dean, who talked me through my frozen fear into action. With her on the phone I packed a couple pairs of clothes for each of us, a set of toiletries, dog food, and meds. Then decided what was most important to bring with me: my journals, a lock of Onya's hair (the best Border Collie in all the world, in heaven now), Michael's first tooth, a lock of Rayn's mane. My external hard drive with all my artwork, laptop, phone, and chargers. Engagement ring. Michael chose his first stuffed animal that our friend Laura gave him as a tiny baby and his favorite baby quilt.

We talked about "stuff." He asked about my jewelry, photos, and art. We talked about space for stuff and space for dogs or goats in the car. How important are my journals vs an animal? (Not very!)

It was frightening and yet again, distilled our lives down to the most important: Life. Loved ones.

How small a space the few precious "things" really take up so the big spaces could be taken up by life and loved ones.

So, to me, in this moment, 2020 is one huge, scary gift in the art of distilling. It asks us, "What makes life worth living?"

And all that makes me think of the quote that is normally attributed to Einstein—a little research says it may not be, but it matters not because it's true :-)

"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift."

My pre-2020 version is: Life, loved ones, and connection are sacred gifts and tech is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gifts.

We all know how much we use our tech to hide, disconnect, soothe, numb.

I think, this year, we are being reminded of the gifts.

Love to all from the Mother Ranch,

Julia

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