Glasses is a great word that connotes: needing to see more clearly. I’ve been an ass most of my life, and not a loving, affectionate beast the way tradition views them, like the donkey who carries Christ to Jerusalem. Instead, I’ve been an ass who kicks and creates all sorts of fuss.

I can be ornery, and thrash things that come into my pasture. And, perhaps this is why I have a sort of solo existence. For my own safety and for others.

I can be stubborn, willful, not wanting to conform to culture. It’s not that I do not like people, I am just not like other people. I am an ass with a job to do. That doesn’t always make sense to people.

“You’re an ass??” Critics may question. Yes. Yes, I am. “And your happy about that?” Yes, sir 😄

Copper, my favorite hen, shimmered in the sun, happily pecking around in her pen each day. I fenced in a spacious pasture area for my four pals. And, built a fortress-like cabin filled with hay and a sunny window for winter.

A hemlock tree shaded one side of their dwelling place. The hens like to climb in the lower branches and occasionally, climb up the tree at night to watch the sunset. Hens know how to be happy, I observed.

Hens require fewer demands perhaps than a human soul. But they require similar ones like: security, affection and companionship. Fun and frolicking. Purpose.

When I started writing Copper Chronicles, I didn’t have any of those things. Existence is empty and tragic without them.

My hens taught me valuable lessons, I wished I learned as a child. Or, perhaps it’s better to say: I am still a child with lots to learn. My childhood is not gone. I am not lost.

Christ tells us to come to him like little children, so my soul may grow up again in His Love. I can be free from my unhappy past.

My hens taught me lots, now its time to learn from donkeys. I believe a donkey requires similar conditions: security, kindness, fun and frolicking during free time. Also: duty and purpose. Some useful contribution to the world makes me feel worthy of being.

I believe tragic emptiness of existence is because I had no purpose. Or, at least, I was given jobs to do that were not what I considered “worthy contributions to the world.”

Like, at home one of my least favorite jobs was hosting pop-in guests. I had to stop everything I was doing and miraculously transform into Martha Stewart. Mother had a big opinion of us, rather too big. Pretending to be someone I am not is painful.

I am glad to be only an ass in all its connotations now. At least it fits who I am on the inside.

The donkey in the Bible gets an honorable mention for its contribution to the world. How happy that every creature may find its place and purpose!