~ 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....