In Harmony with Humans

This past week has me think­ing a lot about friend­ship. There are many ben­e­fits to liv­ing the lifestyle we do at Our Little House, but I think one of the most unex­pected is that it has helped me in har­mony with those in my life.

When I was younger, I didn’t value my friend­ships as I should. I know in some cases I wasn’t as good of a friend as I could have been. There’s been friends whom I know I’ve hurt and another who quit speak­ing to me although I never learned the rea­son. There’s been some who have hurt me. However, since mov­ing to Our Little House, I’ve learned to take life – and my friends – more at face value.

Two things hap­pened in the past week that reminded me just how impor­tant friend­ships are. In the mail last week I found a check from a friend and with it was a note. She wrote that the check is for all I do and she wanted to help with Lucky Chloe’s main­te­nance. When I recov­ered from the shock, the ges­ture made me cry. Her check was a wel­come relief at a time when we just learned Chloe needed more treat­ments for worms she picked up some­where along her unset­tled jour­ney between the shel­ter and rescue.

We also wel­comed my Godbrother, Mike, and his wife, Charlotte, at Our Little House this past week­end. It was a cel­e­bra­tory week­end for them and thanks to a new writ­ing gig for me that allows Dale to finally elim­i­nate his part-time job, it was a cel­e­bra­tion for us as well.  We had such a good time, we didn’t want our friends to leave, also mak­ing me once again value the rela­tion­ships in our lives.

Life in the sub­urbs seemed to be all about us, and work­ing to attain more. It was as if our nat­ural abil­ity to ful­fill our role in com­mu­nity was out of sync. On the other hand, life in the coun­try and in our lit­tle house height­ens my aware­ness, it makes me take stock of every­thing I have, both phys­i­cal and emotional.

As I sat on the deck in the swel­ter­ing heat after our guests left on Sunday after­noon, I closed my eyes and lis­tened to the cicadas hum­ming their song to their own kind. Soon after­ward, two birds began singing to each other. I real­ized then that there is an inner-connectedness inher­ent to each species, if only we stopped to lis­ten and nur­ture the song.

When we do, it’s pure contentment.

If you’re liv­ing a more sim­ple life, how have your rela­tion­ships changed?

21 Responses to “In Harmony with Humans”

  1. I love this sense of people/place com­bined … and, is it just me, or does one of those birds look a lot like the Twitter bird?

  2. Good morn­ing Kerri. I too, was moved to tears when I read your heart touch­ing post. It was right-on. You came into my life when I needed some­one and I hope we con­tinue to be friends through many seasons.

    Mary Nida

  3. Kathleen Winn says:

    I too neglected friend­ships in my younger days, and often took for granted the peo­ple who cared about me. Also, when I was younger, I had a much wider net­work of friends, many of whom were more like acquain­tances than true friends, peo­ple to party and go out with.

    But, in these mid­dle years, I value the con­nec­tions that I have with a small group of peo­ple who I can truly call friends. They are the ones that I know I can pick up the phone and call if I'm stressed, angry or sad, the ones who will lis­ten to me and not judge, the ones who nudge me when I need moti­va­tion to write (or who will edit an arti­cle at last minute with no com­plaint :-) and the ones who are there to pick me up when grief or sor­row over­whelms me.

    Just today, I got a call from a hair dresser I went to for over fif­teen years. She moved to Chicago a cou­ple years ago and I lost touch with her. She said that she remem­bered the won­der­ful talks that we had when she did my hair, and that she always val­ued my advice and humor. She is now in a dif­fi­cult sit­u­a­tion in another city, try­ing to fig­ure out what to do next, where to go, what deci­sion will be right for she and her daugh­ter. I was com­pletely sur­prised that our con­ver­sa­tions while wait­ing for hair color to set held that much mean­ing for her, and that she'd actu­ally kept my phone num­ber these past two years.

    You never know when a new friend will enter your life or an old one reap­pear, but Kerri you're right, we are all con­nected to each other and it's impor­tant to lis­ten for and nur­ture the song that is sung from one soul to another.

    • kerri says:

      So glad for your com­ment, Kathleen. You reminded me that my for­mer accoun­tant in KC, now dis­abled and unable to work, called me a few months ago. I, too, was sur­prised that my twice annual vis­its talk­ing about our moth­ers and our old neigh­bor­hood in Turner meant so much to her. You prompted me to call her to see how she is doing. Thank you!

  4. K9 Coach says:

    In my 20's and 30's it was about more, more, more. In my 40's it is about less is more. I'm MUCH happier.

    I could run a huge dog train­ing com­pany if I wanted (and did) with all the over­head and wor­ries about what was out of my con­trol. Produce more etc.

    I love train­ing dogs and chang­ing people's lives for the bet­ter. I work for myself and take on enough to allow me to spend time with my beloved life part­ner (who has taught me much about less is more), and my own dogs. Its just me and we my clients, their dogs and myself are much hap­pier these days.

    I have time to write now. Which is com­ing back to me by get­ting arti­cles in places like Runners World. I have my own train­ing e-books and I get to live what I teach. Stay within your means, enjoy the moments in life (like dogs do), do as many new activ­i­ties as you can to stay fit and get out­side, use what you already have, eat good food, mostly plants and not too much! :)

    • kerri says:

      It sounds like you've got­ten it down, K9 Coach! There is so much we could learn from dogs, too! :)

  5. Alexandra says:

    What a beau­ti­ful post! Moved me to tears.

  6. Heather says:

    Friends are indeed pre­cious. I, too, had a best friend that quit speak­ing to me and I had no idea why. I wish I had probed more, because she died with­out me knowing.

    Relatives that are also friends are price­less. Good thought-provoking post, Kerri.

    • kerri says:

      That's very sad, Heather, that your friend died when there was some­thing between you. I did try very hard with my friend, emails, texts, voice mes­sages and even a snail mail. I apol­o­gized for what­ever it was and asked her to get in touch. For what­ever rea­son, it was obvi­ously time for her to move on. We did con­nect at a time when we both had suf­fered a cou­ple of losses in our lives, so maybe the pur­pose had been served. Thanks for the com­ment, Heather!

  7. V Schoenwald says:

    My apoli­gies for the typo's, I have a case of the "mis­spell virus"…cure, more tea or cof­fee or a choco­late treat.

    • kerri says:

      I vote for all 3, V! :)

      • V Schoenwald says:

        I for­got to men­tion that my cats LOVE the hum­ming­birds on the mon­i­tor this morn­ing, they wanted to swat at the move­ment, and thus almost spilled my tea.
        The hum­ming­birds are kitty-approved by my klan.

        • kerri says:

          That is too funny, V! The other day, my pit­tie, Sade, saw her reflec­tion in the mon­i­tor and started bark­ing at it! She ran to the other side of the desk won­der­ing what hap­pened to that strange dog she saw! These 4-legged kids pro­vide us plenty of enter­tain­ment! :)

  8. V Schoenwald says:

    Great post today, Kerri,
    Our rela­tion­ships with friends really changed. It has been many years, (over 25) and when I decided to slow down and move back from Denver, every rela­tion­ship that I did have, though not many totally came to a halt. When I decided to quit spend­ing money, buy cloth­ing, go out, etc, I was labled and that was it, no more con­tact, no any­thing.
    I came to real­ize that you try so hard to keep up with the Jones, that you run your­self into the ground, to keep up with the Jones, and its still not enough to do so. And that some peo­ple, in order for you to be part of the "A" list with them, you have to do the "hafta to this, hafta do that" if you are to be seen with these peo­ple, well I dis­cov­ered I don't hafta to any­thing but be myself, which I did, and it was not a cost, as these peo­ple I knew, were not true friends, or for that mat­ter, true ene­mies, just road blocks to what I needed to get back to.
    We all seek the same par­adise for our own sim­ple life, some­times though, we have dif­fer­ent jun­gles to cross. And the spe­cial peo­ple that we have here in our lit­tle com­mu­nity that Kerri brings to us shows me that there are spe­cial peo­ple here who are not our judge, jury, and exe­cu­tioner, but truly friends through a very large cyber-community, that I trea­sure each and every morn­ing, with my morn­ing tea. All are very spe­cial to me, true friends.

    • kerri says:

      >>just road blocks to what I needed to get back to<<
      So true, V. That reminds me of that say­ing that peo­ple come in our lives for a rea­son and some­times just a sea­son. When we've grown — or they have — it is some­times bet­ter to move on.
      Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad Living Large brings a sense of com­mu­nity to you each morn­ing. I too, con­sider you all friends!

  9. Frugal Kiwi says:

    Lovely post. Congrats on the new writ­ing gig and hope­fully happy househusband.

    • kerri says:

      Well, thank you, Frugal. Although I should clar­ify. The hubby will only be quit­ting his part-time job. He still has a full-time job! I am sure he would love to be a house­hubby full time, though. :)