I've written three books, each a part of my journey to elderhood. Now with this blog my intention is to give a moment to moment accounting of my life as it is now, and now, and now. I'm a leader and student of Sensory Awareness, and a practitioner of Rosen Method. I believe in the connective and collective power of Love.
Yesterday I wanted to see if the salmon were in Redwood Creek so I parked above and walked down. The path was wet and it was narrow with roots, so I was careful but coming back up, I slipped, and so as not to fall into a well of redwood trees, grabbed a tree, wrenching my leg and foot, and wrenched it further pulling myself up to stand firmly on slanted ground. Slowly and painfully, I limped my way back to the car.
Today I rest, leg propped up by a firewith books as comfort and support. I come to Simone Weil’s book Gravity and Grace.
“Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter when there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void.”
Yesterday,I learned from a ranger that though I didn’t see a salmon, one was seen three days ago, and the big push may come with this next rain. The creek has to be just the right depth for the salmon to make it up to reproduce. There’s a number to call at Muir Woods to get the news on the salmon, and there’s something so exciting in knowing what this next storm brings, that I feel currents flowing in me, inviting what’s newas I open to the grace in empty space.
Beginning at the TopThe Muddy PathStarting downThe First WaterfallThe decomposing stump of a treeRedwood Creek Her moods flow turbulent and smoothCurvingBack to the TopFlowers find the sun
Today I’m with how much my life, our lives, are influenced by the flow of water, the cycle of water. In my case, I’ve known and ridden on the Des Moines river, the Mississippi river, the Intercoastal Waterway, the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean and the San Diego and San Francisco Bay.
When we lived in Des Moines, Iowa my father built a boat in the garage so we could go out boating. When we moved to a house outside Bettendorf, Iowa we had that boat for floating and water skiing on the Mississippi river.
We moved there when I was nine. I named our new puppy,, a Weimeraner, Mr. Sippi. My grandmother gave me Mark Twain’s memoir Life on the Mississippi to read. One may know only a part of a river, and yet be influenced by the whole.
Today I perused Wikipedia to learn: The Mississippi River begins as a trickle flowing out of Lake Itasca in northern Minnesota. From there the river flows 2,348 miles until it pours into the Gulf of Mexico below New Orleans. The Mississippi River drains 33 states and its watershed covers one-half of the nation.
The Missouri river, the longest river in the US – North America flows 2,341 miles from its headwaters at the confluence of the Gallatin, Madison, and Jefferson Rivers in the Rocky Mountains at Three Forks, Montana, to its confluence with the Mississippi River at St. Louis, Missouri.It crosses seven states: Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas and Missouri.
If we consider the Mississippi-Missouri river system, the total length forms the world’s fourth longest river, after theAmazon, Nile, and Yangtze rivers.
The song This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land comes to mind. Today we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. at a time when a man who foments division is receiving votes.
A tender is a small ship that carries people and supplies to and from a larger ship and shore. How can we tender and be tender with ourselves as we navigate the rivers that connect, and sometimes divide?
In the movie Muscle Shoals, Blacks and Whites are shown playing music together with no noticing of skin color at all. A river reflects the ground beneath and the colors of the sky. May we, too, unite in meeting what comes with tender eyes as we trust the landing, integration, and fluidity of water and light.
MajestyLooking through the reedsExpanding vision – December 21, 2023
Last night I watched the documentary Muscle Shoals. It’s about perseverance, hard work and the connective and collective power of music guided by the sounds of the Tennessee river in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. The native people call it the Singing River.
I lived on the Mississippi River for fifth grade and part of sixth so I returned to the rhythm of living by the movement of a river, the momentum and ease in watching life flow by. My mother said it was hard to get anything done when the river called like a friend to be listened to, and to listen and soothe.
It’s raining today. I made a fire and sat by the fireplace, finding my own rhythm reflected in the elements of which I’m made and with which I flow – earth, water, fire, wind, and airgiving space.
A rose catches my eyeThe warmth, vibrancy, and comfort of a fire
I spent the last two days with my four year old grandson. Part of the time we were at his school as he likes me there and I like to be there. The children seem so grown up with their questions and desire to touch and be near me. I feel drawn into noticing and the curious intimacy of individual and group play.
I appreciate the children’s choice in their array of clothes. I wasn’t sure about my grandson’s choice of red sequined pants for the day but then I saw another in his Christmas pajamas and girls waltzed by as princesses and fairies, and I realized every day is what we perceive of as Halloween when you’re four. The hair of some of the girls dances with barrettes, ribbons, and bows.
I brought grandson a book on the eyes of various creatures, showing the different eyes that see us, from owls to dragonflies, snails to cuttlefish, parrots to gorillas, horses, dogs and cats. We are seen even as we’re seeing and the world is rich with collecting rays of delight.
The pineal gland is a tiny endocrine gland in the middle of our brain that’s shaped like a pine cone. It helps regulate our body’s circadian rhythm of sleep and wakefulness by secreting the hormone melatonin.
I notice how aware I am of light and dark this time of year. There’s an intensity to my noticing that light now comes earlier in the morning and lasts longer in the evening.
To augment my noticing, I light candles, keeping them going much of the time to massage my intake, my inhalation of smoke, flame and fragrance. I honor the passage and flickering motion and reach and touch of light.
The moon, a crescent, in the sky this morningCandle flame – matter melting – fire and light to air
Yesterday I walked along the fairy trail. It was raining an hour before, and then the sun came out though I was sheltered in an Oakwood Valley of ferns, trees, and streams. It felt magical and now I peruse the photos and see images in the water, trees, moss, and lichen to explore.When I returned home I saw the camellia bush offering buds and blooms.
In being with so much transition, I’m with these words of Robert Thurman:
When you understand interconnectedness, it makes you more afraid of hating, than of dying.
Entering the TrailImages in the CreekFairy mushrooms light up in decaying a log Sunlight leaks throughLeaning InMushrooms like mouthsWhere holes inviteImages in the bed of a creek I thought I saw two eyes, but it’s leaves caught in a webMore decomposersCamellia BudOpen with Scent
As I settle into the newness of 2024, as though walking on fresh sand, I reflect on how a four year old views the world. When I told my four year old grandson we were walking toward a special bench, he saw a tree bent lengthwise like a log and ran to it. Is this the bench? Well, of course, it was. It was a place to sit.
When we walked around our yard, most of it natural, he saw a stack of dead bamboo piled to decompose. To him, it was a treasure trove. We now had magic wands, staffs, swords, and walking sticks. When we came upon some fallen branches, he saw antlers, so he and his grandpa made a headband of cardboard and attached the antlers with duct tape, and he was Bambi, the “adult” Bambi, not the baby one.
Today my brain froze as I dealt with computer issues, and I knew it was time to take the advice of Wendell Berry in his comforting and inspiring poem The Peace of Wild Things, and go to the water and birds.
“For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
ExploringEgrets gather at the marsh – Five Golden Slippers and One Great White with a yellow beakDifferentiate egrets by looking at beaks and feet A wider embrace and expanse
From the Headlands looking east through the Golden Gate BridgeEgret at the Lagoon at Rodeo BeachGreat Blue Heron at the Lagoon at Rodeo BeachRodeo BeachAngel Island from Sausalito Looking down into the water in Sausalito
What calls us now? What meets us? What relationships beckon like tides moving in and out?
How do we meet this day as never before?
What comes together and breaks apart and comes together again?
As this box of Picasso Tiles says: Be creative. Be unique. Be you.
On the outside of the box: Be Creative. Be unique. Be you!Ginger is currently hurt, so Ebi stays by her side. Friendship. Companionship. Care. Words to spark and secure the New Year!
