In reading The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng, I come across and reflect on this exchange on free will.
“I said, “There must be free will to choose. Do you know the poem about the two roads, and the one not taken?”
“Yes. That has always amused me, because who created the two roads in the first place?”
It was a question I had never considered.”
Of course, that opens up questions on creation that may go beyond our thoughts on free will, but I’m with the roads that tangle and untangle before us. What guides us in our choices? How do we meet what comes?
The beach at Tennessee Valley yesterdayThe rains are opening up the stream to the oceanWays to crossCut down Eucalyptus TreeBeauty in the Grain
Today with the release of the oddly named “daylight savings time”, we return to nature’s time as leaves fall and we walk through their crunch to understand we, too, fall apart, rest, root, and in connection, rise again.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.
The change in light allows us to notice and in and with subtlety to refine and define the layers we share.
Madeleine L’Engle: “The child at play, the painter at his easel, Serkin playing the Appassionata are in kairos. The saint in prayer, friends around the dinner table, the mother reaching out her arms for her newborn baby are in kairos.”
Nest in openingCommune in CommunionLeaves allowing time to release
This morning I couldn’t face the news so I went down by the bay for the sunrise.
I returned home to a poem by Catherine Pierce, “Earth, Sometimes I Try to Play It Casual”, which was perfect for how I felt. Why play it cool or casual when the nature we are surrounds, supports, invites, challenges, and abounds?
Mirrors along the pathMorning sky along the bayEgrets PlayAnd there is one!Here comes the Sun!Begin the day in Gold!
We spent the night in Inverness in West Marin. Watching the tides and changing light, my brain tunes into vibration and movement, soft tones.
I’m reading Vision: A Memoir of Blindness and Justice by David S. Tatel. Thumbs up!
Nick’s CoveLooking south across Tomales BayLooking northeast from the Inverness side – afternoon tide coming inMorning tide coming in – looking north from InvernessLooking west toward the ocean in early morning light Boats caught in the mud at low tide Morning bloom
Yesterday I went to Muir Woods to bathe in sound, light, beauty, trust. Oddly when I was going through my photos to post this I got a fraud alert on my PayPal account. Balance is the key as we’re shown by creek, creatures, trees.
Quiet StepsWe’re seen and heard!Cleansed with LightAs a hermaphrodite, a banana slug is resourceful when it comes to finding a mate.The creek offers challenge for a swim upstream A salmon’s journey to a place to lay her eggsBreath respondsRespiteTouchUp and Down
This morning as I meditated I looked out on the redwood tree that rises and grounds our yard. She is my teacher, my guide. The wind waves her branches as breath moves through me. Sunlight filters through.
Yesterday I was with friends at The Lumberyard in Mill Valley. Until recently it was a lumberyard. Mill Valley had a mill. Much of the wood came from the neighborhood town of Corte Madera which means cut wood.
One massive tree is still preserved at The Lumberyard which now hosts a restaurant, a bakery, and assorted gift shops. I’m with impermanence and the beauty in change.
The shifting light this time of year makes sacredness so clear.
Many of us cut down trees and bring them into our homes to then recycle and transform. Again, so precious is this life we’re given for a time, a time to breathe and connect as we deal with what for some is horrific, and allows us to see that with time we move toward change.
In his 1994 novel “The Crossing,” Cormac McCarthy creates a character who says that “the wicked know that if the ill they do be of sufficient horror men will not speak against it.” In fact, “men have just enough stomach for small evils and only these will they oppose.”
We are seeing the wicked begin to be held to accountability. May that continue to be so.
Even in December, fuchsias bloom in a neighbor’s yardAzaleas offer too!A gigantic presence at The LumberyardI see two tummy buttons in the trunk of this saved tree.
We drove to Santa Barbara on 101, a reminder of the work involved in growing our food. We passed fields lined with people bent over picking and pruning.
On the way back, we took country roads. In 2012 my sons did the Faultline rally and crisscrossed the California fault line in a vintage Datsun with other pre-1976 cars. They traveled mainly on narrow and challenging roads, not passable in wet weather, which it wasn’t then or now, and discovered uncrowded beautiful landscapes, another example of the variety and complexity of the state in which we live. Our destination for lunch was the Parkfield Cafe, worth it for the atmosphere, food, and apple dumplings.
I didn’t take pictures inside the restaurant as it opens at 11:30 and immediately fills with hungry people, all a little more weathered than we. It felt intrusive to gawk and take pictures of saddle stools and the giant fireplace.We ate outside as we do when we travel with Ebi and Ginger, two rescue greyhounds who attract attention wherever we go.
I offer a taste of our trip yesterday.
Going one wayAnd the otherGolden hillsHappy TravelersLunch is here!The treehouse outside the cafeWe missed the big happening!This is true! We were in grass fed cattle land!Remembering the native people and who came nextWe climb up from Parkfield to overlook the valley belowSummer Gold
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