Kindness

The first indoor movie I ever saw was Old Yeller.  I was stunned with grief that the little boy had to shoot his dog.  I never let my children see that movie.  I had never seen Bambi but I finally decided to risk it with my sons.  We went to the theater, sat down, and the power went out, so I’ve never seen Bambi.

I’ve also never seen The Lion King, but it’s the second movie my three and a half year old grandson has seen.

When we were at CuriOdyssey with him, we came up to a table a senior citizen was staffing.  The table was covered with items to touch, feathers, two tortoise shells, a bobcat jaw, and the skin of a skunk.   Grandson held back, looked up at the man, and said he’d seen The Lion King and that it was sad.  The man leaned toward him and asked if he was sad when the father died, and he nodded.  And the man said he, too, was sad, when the dad died. And then grandson talked about Scar.  It was one of those moments in life I didn’t realize I’d taken in until it kept coming back to me, flooding my heart with witnessing the gentle sharing and understanding of an older man and a three year old boy.

When we went outside Grandpa sat on a bench and Grandson curled up next to him.  It’s only now that I recognize that Grandson was again snuggled into kindness.  This is the world we share. 

 I’m told The Lion King is about the circle of life, that it is a “story of redemption and overcoming shame, finding yourself, knowing who to trust”, and that I will love it.

Clearly, Grandson understood and trusted that man, and hearts were touched and shared.

Day camp was happening around us, and a group of children passed us carrying their creations made from cardboard boxes and tubes. The creations are made as offerings to entertain and stimulate the animals who live there.  A little girl showed me a house she had made for a ferret.  

Last night we watched the first episodes of the TV show Silo.  I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of it so I watched an interview with the author of the book and the director of the movie.  The author, Hugh Howey, was influenced by a sailing trip he took to Cuba over 20 years ago. He’d been warned about the place, propagandized. What he found was the most welcoming and friendly place he’d ever been.  He wrote the books to ask us to look beyond screens that deliver continuous bad news to instead visit and learn what is truly happening with a people in a place.

It’s summer and the birds are twittering and tweeting.  Our little wren and her mate are busy caring for their nest.

Life is a circle and the circle is Love, pebbled with layers and layers of kindness, like galaxies of stars.

After a bird lunch, bobcat goes inside to rest
Charlie, the friendly dove

Bubbles and Foam, Spheres and Shapes
Circling

Summer

Yesterday I had an 8:00 dental cleaning.  I arrived early at the marsh.  At first I saw no birds, then, darting swallows and then two egrets.  The water moves in and out, tidal like the seasons as we celebrate light and shadow in these long days of summer solstice.  

Goodies galore in the morning mud
Stillness alert to response

Emily Dickinson:

To live is so startling, it leaves little time for anything else.

Early Morning Walk

I go down to the marsh to welcome Father’s Day, and the soon to be longest day of the year.  The sun is shining.  I wonder where the fog went and think of these words of Alan Watts:

The anxiety-laden problem of what will happen to me when I die is, after all, like asking what happens to my fist when I open my hand, or where my lap goes when I stand up.

It’s like that, living and dying happening all the time, signing and signaling the joy of being here now, today.  

Five ducks enjoying the rising tide
Circling light and dark
A heart, an eagle, formation everywhere
Buckeye tree in bloom along the creek
Intricacy

Mt. Tam from the marsh this morning

Presence

This week a calendar for 2024 arrives in my mailbox.  It’s from The Nature Conservancy.  I understand their need for money to preserve our natural areas, and yet, immersed as I am in the past right now with memories ripening like fruit, I feel a calendar from the 1950’s would be more appropriate for me and there’s this quote from Charlotte Joko Beck:

Joy is being willing for things to be as they are.

Joy!
Abundance
Light

Connection

Our family gathered on a ranch 1000 feet above Half Moon Bay to celebrate Steve’s 75th birthday. 

Pacifica on June 1
Quail on the property
A Pair of Quail
View from Pigeon Point Lighthouse
Inside the Lighthouse Museum
We saw seals but no whales
And pelicans
Rocks and waves
Fire in the custom fireplace morning and night
Prayer flags wave in a Tibetan temple above us
Looking out and down at the fire pit
A sense of the view – mesmerizing
Changing sky
Beauty and Ease
Love caught thought

Interdependence

I woke this morning, aware of interdependence.  What freedom there is in that.  I’m not here by myself.  I’m supported by trees, air, breath, you, me.  We don’t do this alone.   We live in support.

Br. David Steindl-Rast:

The challenge before us is this: to treasure and preserve the independence given to us and learn to integrate it in an all-embracing interdependence.

The sky last night – a lamp of touch
As, of course, we do
Circle in trust

Multitudes as One

From Walt Whitman, Song of Myself:

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

As a child, on Memorial Day, we went to Bedford, Indiana and laid flowers on family graves.  Flags flew on the graves of the veterans, placed there by my uncle who fought in WWII.  His father fought in WWI.  My father was a pilot of a B-17 shot down in WWII.  Lives, memories, honoring in a desire for no more wars, for coming together to solve and honor the complexity each of us is, in a world complex, and in that complexity, whole.

Recognizing the multitudes of which I consist, I hope on this Memorial Day we can come to peace in ourselves and the world.  It’s a time to honor what’s come before as we use it as a launching pad to honor the dead by living in peace.

Many ropes are required to climb into and open up trees
Living diversity
Clouds, fog, buildings, marsh, plants come together with a place for all

Transport

Yesterday I was at Bedwell Bayfront Park with my three and a half year old grandson and his dad.  I was watching him ride his new bicycle, a bike complete with hand brakes and a kickstand. 

When I told him I needed to go to the bank and invited him to go with me, he said, “Toad Hall”, and I was stymied with the connection until I realized he loves the book Wind in the Willows, and his only knowledge of a ‘bank” is the river bank in the book.  I’m not sure he was impressed with the interior of a financial institution, but everyone was friendly, and there was a bowl of tootsie roll pops which he was not allowed to take. It was a good reminder of the complexity in language, and what we visualize and hear.

The water cycle we are
The trail is steep
And beautiful
Which way
An easy down
“I’ve got this”

From Nothing, Something

The little wren is back.  She is an industrious little being with the sweetness of her flight.  The top of the lamp has been empty since her eggs hatched last spring and she left, but now she’s back, and in a few days of flying back and forth gathering twigs and such, there is a nest.   

During the pandemic, we didn’t drive a car that sat outside.  When we went to start it, the battery was naturally dead.  Under the hood, a perfect little nest, it’s maker now departed, but there intertwined was my discarded hair.

John O”Donohue:

Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.

Outside a medical office
The north side of Mt. Tam –

Pausing to Reflect

Victor Frankl:

Between stimulus and response, there is a space.
In that space lies our freedom and our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our happiness.

I

Nina Simone:

I’ll tell you what freedom is to me: no fear.

Kabir:

Wherever you are, that is the entry point.

Dogen:

Mountains and oceans have whole worlds of innumerable wondrous features. We should understand that it is not only our distant surroundings that are like this, but even what is right here, even a single drop of water.

Nesting
Gathering
Abundance
View of the ridge