A little swamped by the entries to my last and final contest.

# or @ (I dunno - there seems to be a right and a wrong prefix) kimberlylane made a couple of guesses that came oh so close: but the reveal shows:

I am hoping that she will grow into this, one day:

Icelandic Sheep, photo by Pete Chipman

Then I can get one of these:

They can chase each other wild on that bit of grass you see through the kitchen window. (No there's not much more. Nail scissors for a lawnmower.)

All You Eagles and Arachnids (body-mind people) of the world,

I leave you with the wise lessons to be drawn from my mother's childhood drawings. Note how she already LOVED birds then.

My mother is the woman I came to Earth for, and just like she herself had to experience, she is the woman who abandonned me to Earth. So it goes for all us Earth Children. Only she and I have had our eyes rubbed over the gritty ground to make sure we never forget the raw ordeal that this arena of desert heat and dust makes. We fear not the brutality of men. We trust not the promises of women.

I ask you to take note in general:
Ask yourself: Do you want to be right or do you want to be loved? It struck me, reading on Manichaeism, that the last thing my mother ever was, is a right-fighter. While fighing to be right is usually about earning the right to be loved: she could have done with some of that. The contest must have been settled in her first drawn breath: I AM right! This was going to be one of those unfair ordeals (no easy win-win like is up for grabs here on Steemit) and what was she supposed to do about it?

She leaves me with some precious observations, I know have to be right.

Lesson One

• Arm yourself with nine-inch nails of scrutiny. Pierce the other to the core before they wrap you up to bundle you off again.
• Gnomes are creatures of time (they live under grandfather clocks).
• Giants resemble their portraits.

Lesson Two

• Your body is a temple - or at least a tiny house.
• Children don't pretend their dollies are alive. They allow entities thirsty for tea to enter them.

Lesson Three

• Never despair when you run out of blue pencil. You still have your words.
• If you ever run out of the kind of steam that protects that what you love, use your words.

I leave you then with:
Some First-Aid thought-wrought words by Steiner (who would laugh his socks off if he found out I was quoting him - but it saves me composing a poem):

Into spirit pastures I will send
The faithful love which here we found
That we might be united soul with soul.
So may you find my thinking ever loving
When from the spirit’s light-filled lands
You, searching, turn your gaze of soul
To see what here in me you seek.

~ R. Steiner ~