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Sheltering Walls

Bare Trees in Fog

Updated: Jan 15

Kristi Noem, Homeland




"As Noem wrapped up her bloody tale in the book, [No Going Back] she wrote that being a leader is often “messy” and “ugly.”..



“Walking back up to the yard, I spotted our billy goat,” Noem wrote.

The nameless goat’s only sin in that moment was being in Noem’s field of view.

In the book, Noem tried to justify her snap decision to kill the goat by writing that it “loved to chase” her children and would “knock them down and butt them,” leaving them “terrified.” The animal also had a “wretched smell.”


Noem says she “dragged” the goat to the gravel pit, “tied him to a post,” and shot at him. But the goat jumped when she shot.

“My shot was off and I needed one more shell to finish the job,” she wrote.

She studiously avoided saying she wounded the goat with the first shot, but that’s the implication.

“Not wanting him to suffer,” she added — apparently experiencing her first twinge of feeling, after saying that killing the dog was not “pleasant” — “I hustled back across the pasture to the pickup, grabbed another shell, hurried back to the gravel pit, and put him down.”


The goat story not only reflects a disturbing lack of self-control, but also raises a question of law.


The crime of animal cruelty

Noem has defended her shooting of the dog, citing legal justification for her actions. She’s likely referencing a state law https://oklahomavoice.com/2024/05/10/gov-kristi-noems-dog-killing-was-bad-but-to-really-understand-her-consider-the-goat/


SIGN THE PETITION TO HAVE NOEM REMOVED FROM HER POSITION:


 
 
 
"You cannot cross the ocean in response to a call
"You cannot cross the ocean in response to a call

from a 14th century mystic, be steeped in days and days of a message that sings out with joyful

confidence that "All shall be well", and then decide not to believe it when a darkness comes. " Julie Sellers, 2024


Julie will be our 2026 co-leader. There are two rooms remaining. Early bird special rate now.


 
 
 
St Augustine photo by Charlene
St Augustine photo by Charlene

Something happens


We pause.


For the next three weeks, approaching the winter solstice, the in-between will be elongated as days grow darker, earlier and earlier. We may grumble and bemoan darkness descending while turning on lights around the house by 4 or 5 pm. Or, we may relish the chance to draw the blinds against the world. Twenty days and nights can feel long while waiting for the shortest day to come, or as some prefer, the longest night. I love the winter solstice because it forces everything into an in-between world that often goes unnoticed.


Last evening, I strolled as the sun was setting and the half moon was rising. The hues, subtle at first, became radiant shades of red-orange against a purple backdrop of a not-quite-night sky. The world was perfectly still, as if coaxing the weariest among us to stop. A few neighbors were out and about, each one commenting, "What a beautiful evening"!

I returned home to a darkened house, crossing the threshold between two worlds of light and dark. It wasn't but a minute before I had to turn on a light, but that minute was held up by magic. Drawn to the window to witness the remains of the day, I sensed time itself suspended in-between the light and dark. In this liminal space, darkness is an invitation to light a candle of hope.



 
 
 
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