My online journal sharing interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
accept the gift of each new day,
ms
letting go of hatred and fears,
intrusive thoughts and entitlement
that separate and divide
then maybe we would….
awaken to the beauty of creation
recalling mother earth loves,
embraces, nurtures all of us
……why can’t we also?
About a half hour after taking this predawn image a car arrived in the parking area with four young kids in it. Two of them got out and walked towards the lower parking area and stopped to chat with me. The young man, named Tyler, commented on the nice camera I had then asked what camera I would recommend. I told him to use his phone.
There was a meadowlark perched on a bush near us, singing away. While, along the water’s edge was a Great Blue Heron getting in some early morning fishing. When I pointed these two birds out to them the young man told me I reminded him of his grandpa. Now, was that because his grandpa is a bird watcher or because I look old enough to be his grandpa? This is a trick question.
The land is the real teacher. All we need as students is mindfulness.
Robin Wall Kimmerer
Magpies do not sing as a robin or meadowlark, they chatter. Constantly. As soon as I arrive they will land on the fence in front of me while still in my car and jabber away, and sometimes making good eye contact. I’m going with the assumption they are happy to see me. Hope you had a wonderful 4th of July!
If you haven’t notice I spend many of my early mornings at Pineridge Natural Area which implies I post a lot of images from this area. I took this image in mid June. I am sure the kayaker is enjoying their morning on Dixon Reservoir. The color is interesting to me. I took several images and they all have this almost dirty gold look. We have no fires burning, thank goodness, so I’m assuming it is a smog/haze mix.
The Journey
Mary Oliver, from Dream Work
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.
I usually read one or two of Mary Oliver’s poems when I go to bed. This poem called The Journey, kept me awake the other night so maybe I need to rethink that routine. Anyway, the poem rocked me because it’s asking questions that I’m still asking myself at 72 years of age. It’s about transformation of an inner journey. So, it is asking if I’m willing to take all the risks involved, if I dare listen to the voice within, to face a death of some kind, to let go to something I’ve outgrown and the birth of a new self. It’s about learning to trust myself, about leaving the bad advice and demands of other people behind and even the voice of my own insecure egoic self, and to follow my own instincts, my own path in life. What does it say to you?
Today is my 72 birthday. I will most likely spend some time with my feathered friends at one of the natural areas, have a mocha or chai, get in some reading and journaling time. Basically, I’ll continue to spoil myself, even at this age.
Up early and off to the natural area.
ms
Wind was blowing hard and cold,
penetrating my fleece.
I was not expecting any colors
with clouds on the horizon but…
creation would not disappoint us.
Love sharing this sacred place
with all my friends,
both human and feathered.
It’s a good way to start each day!
Have a great weekend!
I miss the early days of the pandemic when scenes like this sunrise did not have the dirty brown smog hoovering on the eastern horizon. Sigh!