"I build my house from barley rice,
Green pepper walls, and water-ice,
Tables of paper-wood, windows of light;
And everything emptying into white."
I assisted at the delivery of twin goats today; beautiful, white babies. The first one wasn't positioned correctly, and after a very long effort on the part of both mama and her human staff, the little doe was delivered unsuccessfully. A sad moment for all. Seconds later, still numbed by our sorrow, Kathy helped deliver and revive her twin brother, a beautiful little white buckling. I'll insert photos tomorrow. I was actively involved, and ill-prepared for pictures.
Life is fraught with joy and pain; the loss of one infant, the birth of another. This close to the edge of that circle, you feel the exquisite emotions associated with each. It's horrible and beautiful. That moment of birth: you aren't, then you are. The little doeling died before her actual birth, from the trauma. The buck revived after seconds of inactivity: a flutter of an eye, a given breath, a gasp and shudder, and he was born intact. And it was beautiful. An hour later, he had forgotten his ordeal, and was being nuzzled by his week-old cousin. Mama was standing still, watching. Exhausted.
My husband once said that the most meaningful things occurred at the edges of things; the changes of states (liquid/solid); the membranes and interfaces that separate distinct areas are where the most meaningful change occurs. So here we have it; an extreme moment of new life, and loss, and the passion of creation all in a moment or two. Even with the loss, it's beautiful; part of the cycle. The little white buckling is vital and alive, and his sister will go back to the cosmic mix. Life goes on, and it's a miracle.