St Lawrence Island
Gambell, Alaska
Sitting on beach, looking out over the Bering Sea,
watching gray whales spout and fluke, watching puffins,
loons, murres, auklets, and more go by.
Looking at the beautiful mountains of Russia, 39 miles away.
I am a world removed at this moment...
At peace and contemplating many things...
Clear heart, clear mind....

KINSHIP OF A CANYON

One can be alone, but not lonely...and there I stood immersed in...immersed in awe. And as I stood there, I stood in awe. In awe of what was in front of me...The bigness and space, the beauty and timelessness, the starkness which was brilliant. But most of all I just stood...in awe. In awe of the loudness of its silence. The grandeur and the peace of this place was almost overwhelming. It seemed so removed from the chaotic-ness that we have come to know in our daily lives as "normal". It was refreshing and I felt the lifting and emergence of "something" in the inner most of myself. It was, in a word, inspiring. 

This canyon, Water Canyon, is in the heart of New Mexico. Anywhere that holds a treasure such as this has to be the heart, or a heart...of something. From the main road we looked up and into the distance at that mountain that cradled the canyon. It looked un-reachable--a destination that is always seen in the distance, but no matter how long you traveled, it remained just that--in the distance. We plugged on, traveling on faith and eventually the threshold was crossed and there we stood in the midst of...the midst of...God. It had to be... The loud silence was surely his voice. And in the breeze of that silence was the eerily, melancholy, beautiful and peaceful song of a Hermit thrush. All of this in perfect harmony with each other as are all thrush songs. Its only reply was its own echo. And somehow I think this thrush was okay with this. A trait to be admired. An angel...perhaps...or--the soul of the canyon. The Red-faced warbler that appeared in front of us--sat face to face with us studying us as we admired him. This, this was surely the heart of the canyon. He appeared and disappeared--as a dream.

As we wandered, mesmerized, deeper into the canyon we listened, watched, and deeply breathed in this aura surrounding us. This elevation stimulates and heightens our senses to a sense where they should always be! Still rising in elevation we came to a memorial marked "Adrians Adiose". A simple cross adorned with memories. It is obvious that Adrian was well thought of- I wondered if she knew this and hoped that she did. I think it is also obvious that Adrian adored this place. We do not know the circumstances of Adrians "adiose", but the fact that she "perhaps" "chose" it to be here should speak for the reverence of this place. I didn't know Adrian, but I now feel a kinship with her through the serenity of this place. Perhaps that Hermit thrush comforted her in that time of need and at the time "silenced the silence" for her. Not this silence, but that silence...I would also like to think that she heard God speaking to her through that silence-not this silence.

There IS a reverence in this place for us. Surrender to the silence and listen. I wondered if we continued further & further into the canyon would the peace get greater? Is this just a taste? Is this a path? What does Adrian now know? I like to think that she is now singing as beautifully as this Hermit thrush and in harmony and looking as beautiful as that Red-faced warbler. 

She is now included into the heart and soul of this place. May we always seek and find these canyons in our lives.

DUSK

Dusk...that spiritual God-gifted time of day when its no longer day--and not yet night. Its that time of transition not so different from the transitions that some of us "grow" through. A season of our life...I am not a winter person, never have been...but dusk is where winter and I came "to terms".

Cold, bitter, and blustery days winter does deal us...but under this harshness dusk is the soft side-the heart-of winter. Looking into the winter western sky we see it is often effused by that calming saffron glow. No other season soothes us with a dusk like this! It comes to us at a perfect time of day to warm our hearts and to help us reflect. Dusk is like the big, soft comforter we wrap ourselves in and wrap around our souls. It has healing properties of immense proportions that we can never grasp--the ultimate prescription from up above! It heals our hearts...there are "startling" dusks and some not so startling, but a dusk there is regardless, every day!

Dusk is when the "tide changes" for us land-locked and soul-locked dwellers. And this tide change is followed with silhouettes. On the horizon they begin--silhouettes of trees who have no choice but to be; silhouettes of deer and late going-to-roost hawks and herons, appearing to flee the dusk. And flocks of birds going to meet the dusk amongst the silhouettes of trees that will not depart, but wait for them. Its a comfort thing, I am sure. And then there are the silhouettes of owls because this is their given way. I often feel like a silhouette as well...They are just merely an outline of ourselves-the only part of the "true" self that shows with the pending darkness of our lives. This outline we cannot remove...We cannot see beyond the silhouettes of others because that silhouette is all we allow. Its a term..... And dusk is where winter and I came "to terms"....




WATER CANYONE

NEW MEXICO

 

 

Up in this canyon I found peace and serenity that I have not had for months...The total quietness was loud and inspiring...The singing Hermit thrush spoke to me and let me know that I am not so totally lost anymore...Here up in the no where, I started finding myself...again....



~ Seasons of Me ~

My seasons are varied...they are also tried and true. This does not mean that I know who I am or where I am going-not really a bad thing. My seasons often blend with my soul...and my soul often drifts in the currents, rolls with the tides, and bursts with the blows of whales. I so often get lost in the world and once in awhile I just have to stop...breathe in~ and breathe out~ and get my heart, my mind, and yes...even my soul back in sync with the tides. It is the true rhythm of life. The tides are the constant of life. Yes, my heart is governed by the comings & goings of the tide.

I have often referred to Cape Point as my soul place. I believe that we are kindred spirits, soul mates of sorts. I have seen the seasons of the point and they much match mine. Spirits are like tides...they have their highs and their lows. The winter whales drifting by coincide with my drifting mind and the pelicans of fall mirror the sereneness that I get from this environment. The shells that I pick up remind me that only I know me and only I can protect myself with my own shell. My foot prints in the sand right along side with the prints of the gulls and shorebirds bind us throughout all time and around the globe. The by-the-wind sailors that I pick up off the shore in summer gives me hints that destiny gives me my direction and the sea pansies that I "pluck" from the beach give me my "bouquets". Sea turtles aid me in keeping dreams alive--but not necessarily keeping them mine. The red knots pass their hopes and dreams to me as they briefly pass through...to their own seasons. Sea glass pieces that I find show me inner beauty in the most ironic of items. Sanderlings share their joy and enthusiasm with me, but yet always make me realize that they will always be here...somewhere...along this stretch of beach, but I will not. They will carry on for me...And in my meandering thoughts of the day I will think of them. And the horse shoe crab...it revives hope and teaches me about the resiliancy of life over eons of time. A very passive survivor in ways I would love to learn. It lends faith and revives hope. The winter months at the point bring the time for reflection as many desert the shores...but here I am, still there, and absorbing what is me. A very peaceful time at the point. The dunes, the breeze...it IS this environment. And it is where I find inspiration. These are the seasons of the point, hence the seasons of me. They are varied. They are tried and true.

~ Natures Karma ~

At different times in our lives someone always quips us with a saying or a piece of advice that for some reason or another stays with us for a lifetime. In a feel good & comforting sort of way it is strange, but yet eerie at times because you know there is meaning there somewhere...perhaps just not evident yet. The quip has not reached its time yet, but only been planted. Some of these quips may have great meaning in our lives & lead us down paths that are obvious. Other quips may only lead to a meandering thought process that takes us on small journeys in our lives. A karma journey.

My mother once told me that on some days you just have to make your own sunshine. While I knew what she was telling me and I did apply it to my life several times since --sometimes successful and sometimes not-- there was always an effort there to get it to work. But this was just one of many quips that have stuck with me. But karma being karma it pops back from time to time.

Yesterday it popped back in on my way to work. A very dreary and very rainy morning. Chilly, damp, and drab. One of those days that you just keep moving with the flow because you just do. As I headed out the door shielding myself from the rain drops there were three American robins in the yard. Two were pursueing their ways around in circles as they chased one another and "quipped" each other while the other stood on the sandstone bench singing--really singing! They were not concerned with the rain coming down on them. While I was watching these robin life events take place a Song sparrow sang. I looked up and there he was on the bill of my pelican weathervane--singing as it slowly swayed with the breeze giving direction that he cared nothing for. He was not concerned with the rain coming down. After driving just a short piece from the house on the back road and not moving at a fast pace at all (rain tends to do this to me) I heard the loud call of an Eastern meadowlark. I looked over to the road side to see it perched triumphantly on a fence post with its yellow breast shining like the sunshine rising. Its head thrown back in all glory of the song it belted forth. And the rain...it still fell. At the end of the road at the stop sign there was another fence post. Atop of it sat a male Red-winged blackbird--shiny & glossy with his red epaulet flaming red with majesty! And from his throat he proclaimed with all of his heart a "o-kee-ree" that rang with sunshine!

I knew karma had come around...and I heard mom saying "some days you just have to make your own sunshine...". The difference here was that the birds did not have to make their own sunshine --they were the sunshine! They were the sunshine that I was missing on that day. It was there the whole while--I just was not seeing it. And while I sometimes feel that I have to work so hard to apply that theory--the birds never do. They just are...They see the beauty in all! Clouds or sun, cold or hot...The beauties of life are simple and the sunshine is always there...We just have to stay in touch and not wander off to far in the dark.

To The Edge ~

My heart...yes... has been to the very edge. My soul has been there with it - each time recovering with hesitation. This hesitation of returning becomes much longer with each trip to the edge.

Some birds just overflow with their environment--they ARE their environment...body, mind, and soul. There is no hesitation there--they just are. And this "just are" is what pushes me to that edge...they make me "see" and they make me "feel". Have you ever really and truly "felt" beauty? It puts that big lump into your throat and when you swallow the tears well up into your eyes and you feel that great lump in the pit of your stomach as you realize that you are holding your breath. Its a feeling that I never want to recover from...it is the "feeling of life"...of "being"... It is what lets ME be ME...I want to be ME...

Have you ever seen & heard a flock of sandhill cranes fly over? The mere sound of their voices wells up into my chest. Its a beauty of freedom and of true wildness. It is of being--just being...It is of grace.

Have you ever heard the calls of a flock of tundra swans in the evening and could only see their silhouettes as they flew over, hear the whirring of their wings, and the bobbling of their long necks? By the hundreds? I have... The sound of their voices will haunt you with truth and certainty...the certainty that your soul will never recover... I don't want it too. I took flight with them that night and I WAS...just WAS... They grasped the dusk and made it their own that night. I was an intruder on the edge.

The peregrine falcon that sat on the driftwood stump day after day on the outer banks at the point--in sleet, rain, and wind-- and yet endured because it was a true & tried spirit. It showed me endurance and how to embrace life. This WAS a true peregrine falcon in the environment that it should be in. It was true...it was life...it was an environment of its own!

The brown pelican that I flew with...we are still flying...side by side. Companions. And the great shearwater that flew in out of nowhere over the open ocean still soars out there, shearing the water and carrying many a heart on its back.

And not of flight of the air, but of flight of the deep...the humpback whale off of the point...the one that "showed me fin"...Thank you...carry my heart, my soul, and my spirit into the depths with you...for a moment, I was ME.

These "souls" epitomize "true life" for me. The epitomize a whole environment within themselves and lets us have brief glimmers of their "just being". They take you to the edge...they make you feel...and hope that we NEVER recover!

Just Being...

Physically--I have walked this path many times. Spiritually--I have walked it many more. And at the end of this path is where I come into being...just being. Just being I am content--it feels so universal to everything...all of life.

As I walk down the path I can feel the promise...the promise of a deep sigh. By the time I reach mid-path the whispers of the sea oats begin and a little further on I hear the beckoning of the surf. The sound of the surf flows over my heart just as it rushes and flows over the sand. And just as the sand absorbs the sea water..so too does my heart do the same.

I pass just beyond the dunes and deeply breathe in--I breathe in the freshness and heaviness of the life flowing air. All weights are lifted off of my shoulders and released with the retreating waves. Yes, I am.

I have become so much a part of this environment that physically or spiritually I am always here- and here I am real. I can feel, I can express. I can be...and I can also be ME. I can be in the waves and the surf, I can be in the breeze and in the sea foam, I can ride the wings of terns and gulls and I can rollick with the bottlenose dolphins. I have spouted with a humpback and I have also flown with cow-nose rays...I have drifted with cannonball jellyfish and rode the sails with By-the-Wind Sailors. I have leaped with a giant sting ray. I have traveled the currents with the sea hearts and more solemnly I have waved and whispered with the sea oats. Sea turtles have taught me of faith and pelicans and have taught me of patience.

Here I am, I just am, just beyond this path....just being....

Making Amends With Winter

I am a true lover of summer...of the bright sunshine, the warmth, the glow, the long days, the color and the aroma, and all of the song...birds, insects and what have you! The droning of the annual cicadas...It is summer! The love of summer is a love that I have always had and there is little doubt that this love won't depart til I depart this earth. And then I know that I will BECOME one of summer. Guiltily, I do not share this same passion with winter - even though I was a winter baby. I am just not fond of cold, damp, windy, and blustery days...there are no colors and life seems monotonous in a huge way. There seems to be lots of void. As a nature lover I know this could be no further from the truth...I feel guilty at times for not being as passionate with the winter as I am with the summer. Winter IS a part of nature...part of that revolving circle of life. This winter has found me shivering more and grumbling more about the cold and dreariness of the season. I have been finding myself slipping further and further away from my realm of nature. I have been hiding from it--trying to burrow in warmth and by doing this I have been missing out on natures wonderful realities that are right before me.

And then one day --a very cold day I will add--a man came to my check-out counter in the store with his purchases. One of the items he laid in front of me was a book by Thoreau, whom I am very familiar with...At that moment he decided not to purchase it. Left at the counter after he left I started perusing it. As I flipped through the pages a chapter leaped out at me. It was titled A WINTER WALK. The title--it spoke to me, it tugged at me. The book went home with me that night as I decided to read that chapter to try to get back in touch with the true heart of things--regain my appreciation- make amends and find peace with winter. As I read I felt my heart warming. It was leaping and I felt distant memories re-kindling in my mind like the stirring of glowing embers returns to flames. Thoreau spoke of some of the wonders that I once knew, but somewhere in the jumble of human life they just got mis-placed. Yes--those winter starry skies--they are of the prettiest of starry skies. So clear, so crisp, and within reach--or so they seem. It has been a long time since our eyes met, however. The silence of a winter night (or morning) is so pure. Just the mere thought of that purity comforts me and helps me to feel the peace of winter. By the time I reached the end of that chapter I felt a connection akin to a realm that is only in our reach if we let ourselves be reachable...

I lost my way but was re-directed by a stranger who was directed by some other realm..was he just a passage way or did he find a path he was seeking also? Was it faith or irony?

The next day as I was driving to work I noticed the sun glistening over the snow covered fields. The trees spoke in sharp contrast to their surroundings. Suddenly my heart began to swell and the sun began to shine (if only mentally). My eyes suddenly opened to a scene of peace and pure sereneness...and I SEEN. It was a landscape at rest- you could actually see its restfulness and deep-sigh breathing--and it was breath taking. It was calming. It was soft...I grinned, I sighed, I made my peace with winter...

A Moon, A Star....and Me

A simple view...one filled with elegance also. That is what it was! The scene reaped of peace--of harmony even--and through the silence of the evening (other than the splashing of a fish in the sound or the wonderfully harsh grating of a tern passing by to go to roost) I heard the sky proclaim many things with its beauty. It was simple. And...it was elegant. So true that it is worth repeating. And there was also a moon and a star...and me.

After a full day ocean side a sound side evening of reflection comes welcomingly...The perfect way to end a perfect day. This evening seems to be enchanted though and I get these hints early on through a most glorious sunset and...a moon and a star.

I look up to see the clearest evening skies that I have ever seen. Nothing mars the striking glowing colors or the clarity...no wisps or puffs of clouds- Not a thing. And yet suspended up on their own accord in that wonderous way in which we all at one time or another wondered how they stayed up there was a single and brilliant star and a brilliant sliver of moon. So close together in the ether they were that they seemed to form a couple. They were a pair. Silently they spoke myriads to me--they spoke of beauty & amazement, of love & life, of wonders of the world, they also spoke of the simplicity but yet mysterious elements of the earth that surround us..the ones we are meant to feel but never truly understand. They are the elements that guide us and befriend our souls. It is a faith. They also spoke of inspiration. Inspiration sometimes seems to come with a price that is lonely. And sometimes inspiration stumbles and falls...until moments like this ~ They are matters of the heart. And sometimes the bittersweetness is felt.

The dusk gives into darkness and the couple still resides high overhead becoming even more brilliant as they arrive in their time. Its a sign that all is right and as it should be. It will become a constant in my life now... among the many memories of this bittersweet trip. It will be one of these constants that you know you can depend on ~ one you can rely on. Although suspended there for all the world to see, I feel like it was just for me...and as I stood there on the balcony...it was a moon, a star....and me.

Finding Muchness in the Clouds

As a child I was a cloud gazer...just what you would expect from a child. I looked up to the clouds and viewed them as friends. I looked up wide-eyed, full of wonder and with an open heart. I was a child with high hopes and even some dreams...this is what makes a cloud gazer. There was no limit to what one could see in the clouds. Who we are help us to shape the clouds in our lives and what we see. I am not sure when I stopped being a cloud gazer...that seems to be lost somewhere in time. But, at 43 years old I have once again become a cloud gazer. It brings back to my life a sense of "muchness"...something that at this point in my life really counts. Muchness--a borrowed term but one that is so fitting that I had to keep it and make it mine. Once I heard the term I realized that just perhaps that my own muchness had gotten lost along the way. As I am searching for my lost muchness I look to the clouds. Seeing their shapes, their sizes, I realize how short lived they are. There one moment and the next, they are gone...gone forever...taking on another form, another personality. Never one to ever be duplicated again...just like a day in life but more fleeting. I often spend time wondering where the clouds above me have come from--how far did they travel to meet my eyes and how many different shapes must they have taken on? I can compare myself to a cloud in that there are many faces and many moods...The bright blue sky is but a back drop to the scene but not always seen, but yet it is a constant. Clouds and shadows lend to color and depth. Some days light hearted and serene, some days melancholy and gray, and yet other days filled with fury. They show their moods--their human-ness. But a cloud is a cloud and all have a personality no less. Free floating and free changing forms with no worry or even a concept of time. Drifters they be as they seemingly drifty by unconsciously. To be a cloud for a day--drifting, floating, no worries, a form of many shapes--to be a wisp--a wisp of a cloud. The feelings of pleasantry that I get from just the mere thought of it makes me giddy..as giddy as a 43 year old cloud gazer can be...I see a glimpse of my muchness...

~ Only a Shell ~

Seashells...I have for so long admired their beauty, the feel of them, and the mystery of them. Some of their mystery is their beauty. And...they are comforting to the inner me. I have many times held them in the palm of my hand and have been exceedingly fascinated by them. I have been awed by their shapes, their patterns, their intricacies. It sends my mind spiraling like the whorl of a shell itself. I have been beguiled by their subtle and simple colors and hues and have been mesmerized by many. All are beautiful, each one with a history that we know not...for it is simply a shell. The part taht we admire, the part that we know the best, is merely a shell...So what do we really know? More than once I have wondered about the true and former occupant--the mollusc--that once lived inside. I am truly curious when it comes to the "heart of the matter".

Recently I was gazing at a small crystal that is hanging in my window. It spins and spirals and life breaks free...A friend of mine gave it to me and as the light reflected through it I was awed at her favorite color...roygbiv..All the colors of the rainbow. And for some reason, the reason unknown to most but made to be known at the time that it must...came through to me reflecting in the reflection. It was then that I realized how much like a mollusc that I really am.

There are very few people who really know ME...and a lot who think they do. What they are seeing, however, is my shell. And as it is that the mollusc inside the shell forges its own shell through the processes of nature, I , too, have forged my own shell. Mine however has been forged spiritually...forever seeking...I am a wandering spirit and a drifter at times. My spirit, my feelings, my thoughts run too deep, perhaps, for those around me who choose not to travel with me. Lonely at times this realm can be...but you cannot beg or teach someone to know you or get one to truly feel the unseen that you do. Its a wealth that remains in the deep recesses of my heart, and my heart alone. At times a curse, but yet a good curse.

We see the empty shell...we admire it. What happened to the mollusc inside who created the shell? Chances are...we'll never know. And chances are that the many around me will never know either. I am a restless and wandering spirit, and a flowing soul, but I am also a mollusc and this is my shell....

~ Letting Go ~

From early on hopes & dreams are hoped and dreamed for us. As we get older and our surroundings shape us we form hopes & dreams of our own. Some are easily achieved & realized & yet others are never attainable. These un-attainable dreams are often hung onto for years. We often hang on to them because a big part of life is the dream--it is what drives us and motivates us. Its the dare. But at some point in life we get lost and so do our dreams. And yet other dreams don't get lost---we just let them go. I have often wondered at what point in our lives should we give up on our dreams...do we get to old to have them? Why do some of us set our dreams so high and big that they are un-achievable--un-reachable?

With our September trip to the coast I found & reached a couple of my small dreams. With these achievements also came the realization that some of my other dreams would always be just out of my reach...they did not have to be but these dreams were mine & mine alone...there would be nobody to achieve them with and me being me realized that after all these years I have never been "just me" and never would be.

The trip was bittersweet for me...being in a place I loved dearly...being in an environment that enthralled me and touches me in the most deepest recesses of my heart and won't let go. Its un-explainable. Its the best and worst kind of love affair you can have. It was on this trip that I "let go" of some of my dreams realizing that I am not one to have my own but share in those of others. I did have my way in the way I let go though.

Infatuation or love? Am I infatuated with the Gulf Stream or am I in love with it? I had never seen it, nor been in it...but now I can say that I have seen it at a far distance...I have seen traces of it come in and dance with and tease traces of the Labrador current. Never mixing, never combining, never becoming one. So much like me. This is in thanks to a man who has been "infatuated" with the Gulf Stream all of his life, but unlike me, has experienced it fully and freely and lives his dream. From above I seen these two confluences interact with each other--intertwining and twisting...with all the colors of a soul if you could imagine a soul having color. The colors weighed heavy on my heart, heavy on my soul. The view yanked all speech from me. And the tears streamed down my face. It was understood by me, by God, and one other person who knew the "infatuation". And as I seen those two currents of ever-flowing life that did not mix, that flowed together but did not become one it was then that I realized that most of my hopes & dreams were big--too big--and like the currents would not mix with my ordinary life.

Is it the mystery, the beauty, or intrigue of it all that I am so fascinated with all of the life of the ocean? An almost of all this life remains un-reachable for me as I am land-bound. A single sea turtle though can bring all of this intrigue to shore for us, but yet build the mystery, build the beauty and then take it back out to sea leaving us longing for more. Being a mere viewer into the tiny lives of several loggerhead sea turtle babies brought all of this awareness about for me. So tiny, so big a world, so much weight to carry on its back...Was it fair of me to add to its burden by casting a dream or two upon the backs of these babies? And yet I did...I needed them---they do not need me. They are free...direction, but yet no direction. Just as life should be. And the tears streamed down my cheeks.

And so, with the currents and with the baby sea turtles I sent my biggest hopes and dreams...with them they can forever drift in the oceans, being free, and not be wasted with me in-land, withering, with no chance of ever being realized.

And so at what point should a person let go? At the point when you can still pass it along to someone who has already realized "your" dream or when you can pass it along to "infinity"...never losing it...not living it, but letting it live...That was my point....

~ Saying Good-Bye ~

Several weeks ago I heard the first indication of the turning of a season. It brought on feelings of melancholy--a tinge of sadness. When I hear the first katydids strum up and placing blame of who did it I know in my heart that the shift has begun and that the summer is starting to forwarn us--to let us know gently in its own way--that it will hang on for as long as it can but that its time is coming. Its tired...its the dying of a season. And for the next few weeks it seems hard to believe its true, but I realize that these dog days of summer are just summers way of venting its fury to having to let go and its way of preparing us for being ready to let it go.

This morning when I stepped outside at 4 am I felt the tiredness and weakness of summer and its voice was thin and frail. The moon was full and bright, there were thin, wispy, and back lit clouds and soul searching stars. I felt the stars, the ether air and the moon glow as I slipped into a light overshirt. Summers song has been replaced with a hint of fall song--crickets--who had the stage all on their own. They are gently pushing out summer and gently ushering in fall. Life being what it is I know we have to accept it, learn our good-byes in a way that we can still look forward to whats in the next season without any feelings being hurt.

All the signs are here--butterfly bushes loaded down with a profound number of different butterflies and skippers on waning blooms, all ports full on the hummer feeders, and nighthawks moving over in numbers. The air is turning thin and crisp. The night skies appear different. And there is only an occasional flicker now and then from a lightning bug that cannot yet let go.

At 7:12 am the full morning moon was still vibrant and clear with an airy-ness of mystery shrouding it in the forms of cloud fingers in front of it. There was a grimness associated with this picture as there is with death, but yet there was a feeling of calm and sereneness that came over me with the view...there was a promise of rest and re-newal, for both body and soul and also for nature in all its forms...

Stirrings of the Soul

"I love you," I whispered into the ear of the ocean. Ever since I've known you, I've loved you. I must see all your marvels, know all your beauty..." And the ocean listened and snuggled still closer to me.

~ Hans Hass, Diving to Adventure

~There is Always Time ~

Even during our working hours there is always still time and space in our hearts and minds for studying, wandering, observing, and enjoying the many natural wonders of the world that surround us. Even in our every day and sometimes too routine lives can we take time for the intricacies that have been gifted to us. I have proved this many times over and evidence can be seen in the jottings of my daily journal of the simplest of observations that I make as I go to and fro just in my work. There is always time...we are surrounded.

The field that you see above was my work location for a week as I endured the sun, the heat, the humidity, and the rain. This field is my office for one week every year. Just by simply being there in the outdoors I am already "observing" nature. This once a year show gives me ample space and time in my working mind to see, to feel, and to hear nature. It is like a stress relieving seminar tied in with my working hours at the same time. It is proof that we are never too busy to enjoy Gods every day gifts to us. I am "in" these surroundings from sun rise to sun set for one full week. So is it really work? Oh yes!! There is a lot of work involved...strenuous and otherwise so I am thankful for this picturesque office!

As I am setting up I am listening to the upbeat chatterings of the barn swallows that zip up and around all day long. Now and then I have to just stop what I am doing to simply watch them when they find a swarming bug cloud. They swoop in tighter and tighter circles as they feast. They remind me that summer is not yet over. There is still time...Across the ways my ears pick upon the bouncing beat of field sparrows in another "office" while the cicadas actually seem to drone on and on--bearing down on us the fact that these are the true dog days of summer. In silence, but on high, the turkey vultures along with a single black vulture stroll on by. I wonder, is it any cooler up there in the ether and beyond? At times they flap and hold their wings descending in a short dive--are they playing? Dragonflies, mostly black saddlebags, patrol the perimeter. A stray ruby-throated hummingbird occasionally zips by--all business--no time to stop and chat. There is a mission to be completed. Here in this field black swallowtail butterflies seem to be the lepidoptera in charge with buckeyes and a few monarchs following close behind. Pearl crescents are the sweethearts of the field though. Each morning around the same time a flock of rock pigeons fly over and in the evening a lone great blue heron calls it a day going in the opposite direction. A pileated woodpecker came bounding by one morning - the only showing for him the whole week. The morning song brings much renewal to the soul on these hot and sultry summer days. Blue grosbeak, robins, indigo buntings being the most notable. Seems like each day, around noon, I hear a flicker. And in the din of the afternoon when the heat is up and bird song is down a goldfinch will go bounding by with his chippering call. Leaf hoppers and grasshoppers make our tables a refuge through the day with an occasional katydid out of hiding. The designs of the clouds that go by are endless. I have found a much re-newed interest in clouds this summer. Renewing my childhood.

Yes, there is always time ~ no matter where you are or what you are doing. These are gifts ~ big gifts that re-new themselves each and every day of our lives. We have only to open our eyes, our hearts, and our senses to receive them....

~ Echoes of an Era ~

In our line of work, history plays a great part. Our work can be intriguing, romantic, mysterious, laborious, but yet it still lets your imagination run wild as a childs. Our own imaginations often run rampant. On occasion we get a call to do some salvage work on old houses slated to be torn down. Many of these old houses are old farm houses ~ houses that were beautiful at one time...vibrant in life and with life. And still are in an eerie kind of way...a way in which only certain people can see and feel. These are houses that were full of purpose and function and served them both well. Nothing was created for show, but created for living...the show came through naturally out of love. When we first go into these houses we can almost still hear and feel the echoes and spirits of past life which now only remains as a memory in the heart of the house. It remembers and still feels the love and life of former occupants and perhaps wonders why and what happened for it to be deserted...empty...desolate. We, ourselves, still see the beauty here. Time is ageless, but as human occupants leave nature takes over and wildlife moves in closer. Deer, rabbits, raccoons, and oppossums. Birds sing loudly and freely and nest comfortably with no worries with a real roof over their heads. Quail "bob-white" with confidence from atop the rail fence right out of the back door. Barn swallows are stooping and diving in and out of a barn that in all probability their great great grandparents called home. Dragonflies are abounding over wild over growth and butterflies are visiting flowers that were planted by a life already past. They are still lending to the beauty and aura of the homestead.

As we approach the house I sense a hope flaring up...a hope of returning laughter, life, and nurturing. But it is not to be as we start dismantling piece by piece and peace by peace the doors, the windows, the wood work and trim. The house cries out and sometimes I even feel the pain and sadness it must feel. I feel guilty as I watch an era disappearing before my eyes. An era that was before my time and what gives me the right? History cries and as each piece is carried out another memory is put to rest and set free.

Meanwhile, outside and all around the birds still sing, the hawks soar above, the butterflies still drift over the flowers and the dragonflies patrol. Life...as we know it...goes on...

~ SHADOWS ~

Me, myself, and I...we are a very three dimensional personality. Most days find us working diligently at buying, selling, cleaning, packing, unpacking, and displaying the wares of our occupation. This is the side of me that most see and know. Most do not know me as a lover of nature, of birds and butterflies, of dragonflies and wildflowers, of bugs, of ocean, shells, and seabeans and the whole natural realm. Most do not see me as the soul searcher and restless spirit that I really am. While I do my job consciencentiously and with preciseness, I am often not totally on the clock.

I have often likened this dimension of myself as a shadow. My real loves, interests, and dreams lurking just beside me. Shadows can be big or small, but we all have one or more. Even when we cannot physically see them, they are there. We are never alone. I often find myself visiting with my shadows...my shadows of soaring with the pelicans, scouring the beach, of birding, of watching the barn swallows dip and dive, of listening to the katydids on waning summer nights. Yes, I have many shadows. Our shadows, to me, are our personal thoughts and dreams, our loves and our ambitions ~ other dimensions in our lives. Sometimes our shadows are seen only by ourselves with not many others really knowing the true me, myself, and I. Yes, sometimes it is lonely. At the same time it can lend to a mysteriousness of our lives...if we let them. Sometimes it is rewarding and comforting to hold our very own secrets to our own true selves. Our shadows can be looming, lurking, and large. They can haunt us in the most spiritual way and touch and enrich our lives...even if it is only me, myself, and I.

When I go to the beach I find myself amongst many shadows. Tall and short ones alike. I find that I am not the only lost, but found, soul there. We are just more visible in our own element. Some shadows have been lurking there for decades and some have left and returned to its nurturing. Our shadows remain faithful to us despite sometimes having to choose another path. They know we will return and when we do, the shadows are there. The heart and the soul of the matter are the same. Peace and harmony. Amongst ourselves...even if it is just me, myself, and I....

~ Flowers of the Sea ~

To be intensely knowledgeable about a sea pansy I am not. Knowledge or not though I am impressed with them. They are dainty, they are cute, they bring out the child-like giddiness in me. On occasion they can be spotted in numbers washing up on a beach. I excitedly rush to "pick" them as if picking pansies from a field. This just happens to be a field of a watery kind. They come across to me as sweet and innocent just as pansy flowers are. They are colorful and intricate in design. When coming right out of the water they shimmer and shine at their best. And with great reason--this is where they reside, where they love, where they belong. Take them away from the ocean and it is not long before they dry up, wither, lose their vibrancy, and become dull. Sometimes I feel like a sea pansy. While I am at the ocean I FEEL and SEE all of life...when I leave, only a part of me goes...and I am not whole.

They seem to me to have a sweet disposition. They remind me of a mini lily pad but instead of being an abode for a frog--as we often think of lily pads as--they are an abode for little polyps which have different forms and functions--All necessary for the life of this sea pansy. Its like a whole little world on a little bitty pad. They appear to have a little tail which is actually called a peduncle...It looks as cute as it sounds!

I find it amazing at how nature can give life a simple and beautiful look, but yet contain myriads of mystery in life. It is just but one facet that makes sea pansies endearing to me. A whole world in one small package. Just flowers of the sea ~ THAT is what they will always be to me. Just a bouquet of sea pansies....

~ A Little Girl Not Far Away ~

Today I was holding a seashell in the palm of my hand. It was beautiful and I studied its intricate patterns and colors. I caressed the shell ~it felt good and comforting to the touch. A more simple thought ~ a memory ~ came to mind. Remember how as a kid you could hold a seashell up to your ear and hear the ocean? I held the shell up to my ear and for the moment I heard it! The magic was still there! I had not grown too old! And it sent me back to my childhood days and to the wonderful and innocent times of a little girl. The flood gates of my memory came tumbling down as the realization occurred to me that the little girl is still here...

This is the little girl that used to gently sneak up on lightning bugs and tenderly catch them and put them in a jar. That jar would go to bed with me and it comforted me to have my own little jar of stars twinkling right next to me. It always mystified me though as how by morning all my stars were gone.

That same little girl barely wore a shoe all summer long and swam just about every day. She counted honeybees on clover as she was searching for the lucky four leaf clovers. She enjoyed picking little bouquets of violets for her mother and liked to play in the rain.

This little girl had a pet chameleon, a rabbit, a turtle, goldfish, and hamsters. She liked to pick catalpha worms off of the trees. She would let ladybugs crawl up and around on her and loved to read.

There were the grand times that she would go fishing with her mom and dad and adored the sunfish that she caught. She liked pleasing her daddy by singing like a "red bird" and walking down the tracks with him to see what was out and about.

She enjoyed feeding ducks with her grandma and collected cicada shells. It was always a treat when dad cut open a big watermelon in the back yard and from the steps we would eat it! Building leaf houses was always a must. I still enjoy the smell of those fall leaves today. Rubbing the husks on a walnut brings about another pleasant smell. This is one little pleasure that was never given up or lost. The evening sun pink clouds made me crave for cotton candy. Hearing the ice cream truck was music to my ears. This same little girl danced with the evening church bells as they rang. She will never forget the first earthquake she felt. Her daddy ran behind her, supposedly holding her bike---she yelled the whole way "don't let go, don't let go", but he let go and she was on her own....In more ways than one....Every spring he would take her down to get license plates on her bike...she felt big and had her clout. You see, her daddy was a police officer.

Yes, the little girl is still here...Sometimes it just takes some coaxing to get her to come out and play.