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April 10 2007 - From Byfleet To the Bush
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When I returned to the VMF this time, it was with the intention of working with my monkeys and writing a book in my spare time. I'd already decided on the title - 'From Byfleet to the Bush' which I found quite hilarious, but have thus far, yet to write the first sentence... You see, the title suggests an autobiography, and an autobiography is the very last thing on earth, I wish to write. So you see my dilemma? I have a brilliant title - I think! - for a book I have no wish to write, while at the same time knowing, that there IS a book I want to write, but not an autobiography. So what does that leave? A novel? I don't think so, a play? definitely not, a one-woman show? I'd lose the will to live, are my immediate responses to all the above suggestions. Interesting huh? So, what does that leave me? And my immediate response to that, is, just write! And that's what I want, to just write and see where it leads me. This means that I have to write every day. That is going to require a self-discipline that I know at this juncture, I simply don't possess. All I want to do is sit in the sun with a monkey. Well, I mean, who wouldn't? I have great difficulty seeing a monkey in distress; I have five guys in my enclosure at the moment: Felix, Amber, Monks, Jaspar and Snow White. Felix and Amber are both high ranked and they've formed a tight little twosome, Monks and Jaspar are both lower ranked so they hang out together and Snow White is the highest ranked of all. As such she should rule the enclosure, but Felix and Amber constantly attack her, Monks and Jaspar join in and she's becoming sad and depressed. She needs lots of love and cuddles from the handlers, but every time she comes near me, F and A who are already on my lap, have a jealous hissy fit and attack SW, and as I'm in the middle of the ensuing battle, I have bruises and bites and scratches to prove it... Two days ago, I managed to get her alone in the air lock; she immediately jumped down my top, and stayed there for an hour. Life ain't easy, even in the Garden of Eden, so as much as I would like to sit in the sun with a monkey, I have to accept that there are sad monkeys, depressed monkeys, lonely monkeys, injured monkeys and try not to let it get to me too much, which, let's face it is no help to anyone. My ability to empathise with the monkeys, is I know a huge comfort to them - and to me - and I must allow that knowledge to be far greater than the sadness I feel at their distress. And to finally come to terms with the fact that pain is essential to the human condition. I know I've banged on about that before, and will of course again, but wouldn't it be wonderful if the whole world was relieved of pain and suffering, and was replaced with harmony and love? And of course, I recognise that that is the wistful longing of a four-year-old, but aren't there wistful four year olds in all of us, longing for love? Perhaps, there aren't. Perhaps if you were perfectly parented, which would mean that all of your needs, were met at the appropriate time, and in the appropriate way, you would be a happy, harmonious little bunny who lived a long and fulfilling life, with nary a care in the world. But who is equipped to be the perfect parent? No one. We're all deeply flawed and that appears to be that. So we muddle through, some of us doing the best we can, and think with longing of our future demise. Well, perhaps you don't, but I do; like Peter Pan, I've always thought that death must be the most wonderful adventure. And even if there isn't a wonderful adventure to be had after popping ones clogs, a dreamless sleep has a great deal to recommend it. So, I'm rambling, but that's okay. I feel the need to ramble. Being at the Sanctuary is different this time, because by leaving my home in England and establishing my home here, I have made a commitment to the monkeys. I want to see my guys go into the open enclosure, I want to see them climbing trees and having fun. In short, I want them to be monkeys, to be the wild, free creatures Nature intended them to be. In order to achieve that, they have to have the confidence to know they can survive in the wild. And that is what we hope to give them. I am amazed at the passion these beautiful animals have drawn from me. It is of course, maternal passion. All I want is to protect and nurture my babies, to keep them safe from harm, watch them grow big and strong, laugh and play and be FREE. I couldn't have done this work earlier in my life, I was too disturbed and fragmented to have been anything but neurotic in my approach to any kind of baby, and I feel ecstatic to have found these guys at a time in my life, when I finally feel I have something to offer, and to watch my maternal feelings being used where they can make a difference. And it has allowed me, to feel more of a woman because those emotions are being expressed and utilised. So, I shall write every day (gulp!) and put my money where my mouth is, and finally, simply, WRITE. So my blogs may change a bit, from being reasonably cohesive to a stream of indecipherable consciousness. Friends have been on at me for years to write, but I couldn't see the point; I felt I had nothing to write about. But now I do, because I have reached what I have searched for all my life; my Sanctuary. And my journey from 'Byfleet to the Bush' is one I wish to explore. I mean really! From 'Byfleet to the Bush' how on earth did this happen? I want to find out! So hang on to your hats guys - it's going to be some ride!!! Big hugs, xxx
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