The rain continues and my dreams these days are about children, saving the children. I’ve been spending time with my four year old grandson, so perhaps that’s part of it, seeing his innocence and division into “good guys” and “bad guys” and wondering how we might navigate balance and come to peace.
He was into swords for a time, but now he has become Robin Hood so the swords have become a bow and arrow and he wears them on his back tucked into his Robin Hood mask and shirt.
The two of us were at Coyote Point this week, and I was intrigued with this sign. I had no idea how close we came to imitating the East coast with our own Coney Island and Atlantic City. The pungent odor of sewage dumped into the bay saved us from that.
Adaptation Robin Hood with a furry band of menRobin Hood banding his men togetherNo need for a push these daysEnchantment of water, sand, and a stickHe draws himself in the sand – a perfect likenessLunch atop a dragon.
In his four years, I’ve taken a multitude of photos of my grandson but in the last few months, I’ve started asking first, and when I saw him yesterday, he said he appreciated that, and he would let me know if he wanted his picture taken, or not.
I replied that when I don’t see him, I take photos of birds, plants, animals, the landscape, and the ocean. He asked me if I ask them first, and I’ve been thinking about that. I think I do, not directly but with sort of a heart tug of connection and acknowledgment.
Recently I read an article on getting rid of “clutter” and why sometimes it’s difficult. It suggested the “stuff” might also be attached to us. It’s a two-way street. This has allowed me to be more respectful of what, where, and when I release. I find it comforting to acknowledge that it isn’t all about me, but that I live in a world of connection, attachment, and bonds that come together and sometimes fall apart.
Low tide outside the medical office yesterday Mirrored
I have an eye appointment and then head south to spend time with my grandson.
Yesterday I scraped my hand and watching blood surface and flow thought of how when we mature, our skin becomes thinner and thinner. We become more and more permeable to the moment, to the beauty, joy, connection, and sharing of each day.
Mount Tam from Sausalito yesterdayLooking south to San FranciscoReflectingFrom the Bay Model
Yesterday I walked down Tennessee Valley to the beach.Access to the beach is currently closed due to the threat of storms breaking through the dam, but I could see and hear the ocean, and was accompanied by the sounds of chortling streams, birds, frogs, and a gentle breeze.
Beginning of the PathThe ocean appearsBird with an ocean viewPussy willows appear along the stream looking like caterpillarsMourning Cloak butterfly of which there were many Ty, a mini horse on the path Happy to Pose
Yesterday I saw two Great Blue Herons resting by the path along the bay. Today I went out Tennessee Valley planning to walk to the beach but there was a troupe of elders yakking away so I turned right to visit Hayseed Campwhich is closed for the winter.
Memories flooded in. When we moved here 46 years ago, Chris was almost one and Jeff was four. In an exploratory mood one day after moving in, I followed a narrow road to the end and parked. Putting Chris in his stroller, and holding hands with Jeff, we went wandering down the path. A cow came over and nuzzled Chris in his stroller.
It’s changed over the years, and now there are no grazing cows. The area, a national park, is kept natural for the plants and animals, with some winding paths for the two-legged.
I used to take Jeff and Chris to a pond that was up and beyond the camp but it’s overgrown now so again the land is kept sacred and quiet for the critters.
My meditation today was on the elements. What a gift to see and be so clearly earth, water, fire, air, and the space that allows it all to move, grow, create, and cohere.
A Great Blue Heron embraced in, and embracing, the day.Another stands nearby.The winter path to Hayseed CampLooking UpReturningMiwok Stables
Today I felt drawn to return to the place where, yesterday, I saw the Great Blue Heron. I felt she was the one I bonded with last February when I stayed on a houseboat in Sausalito. I met a woman who also feels bonded to this bird, and said yes, the bird is here at low tide, and in the place I met her last year at high tide. The woman said, “I love her”, and I said , “As do I”. I share more photos oflife in the bay.
I startled her at first and she flew to a new spotMaybe she wanted to give me a better view because she flew to the dock, landed, and pranced along to a more visible place.Walking along the dockPause for a PoseAnother PauseA closer look as she turns from one dock to anotherAnd she continues alongChecking out a place to dropA perfect place to fish for lunchGolden Slippers now comes strolling along the dock And finds a spot to enter the water to feed – Another way to fly
Monday the power was out for many in the Bay area, so because we have a generator grandchild arrived in his Halloween skeleton pajamas. No problem. We went to Old Mill Park where he found a tree into which we both could climb, a tree with two rooms so we could separate our tasks into cooking and a tool shop. At one point the tree became a pirate ship, and the wind came up so we needed to “batten down the hatches”.
I sit with it now, climbing in and out of the opening in the tree , especially when the land below became the ocean into which we each went scuba diving to commune with squid.
After I’m with my grandchild living in the land and sea of his imagination, when he leaves, I miss him, and feel slightly dizzy as though my world is set to organize and his is in response to what he sees and creates.
I’ve been to Old Mill Park innumerable times, and never realized the possibilities in this tree. Maybe I never even discerned it as separate from the multitude of tall trees.When I go back by myself, will this tree still open itself to possibility? Will I feel silly climbing up into a tree to view the world from its open enclosure?Will I feel silly swimming in the sea grandchild saw below it?
We were there to view the rushing creek, exuberant with the rain.And yet, for him, in those moments, the invitation was from the tree.
Thich Nhat Hanh:
The feeling that any task is a nuisance will soon disappear if it is done in mindfulness.
ImmersionContemplationStirring the potA finer touch The HistoryThe creek and mill The view of the creek when looking out through the treeExquisite what guides, lifts, and expands our paths
Since today we’ve had rain and sun, changing so quickly I go from windshield wipers to sunglasses, I wonder how Punxsutawney Phil, the renowned groundhog who’s been predicting when winter will end since 1887, predicts an early spring.
I would expect a 50-50 change of accuracy but according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, “on average, Phil has gotten it right 30% of the time over the past 10 years.”
Today we celebrate our love of play and joy in noticing the passage of seasons and time.
Ferns on treesLight on Redwood CreekWhere fairies reside
Today I was with a little boy who is one year, one month, and some days. He is walking, even running, with an occasional drop to crawl.
I find it amazing to realize I made all these leaps, too, and though at my age, the leaps might not be visible, I believe they are also miraculous, enlivening, and strong.
Albert Einstein:
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as if nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
And, of course, everything is a miracle.
Open DoorsA plentitude of invitationsPassageways AboundTrust thrust, slide, and wingsGratitude and Prayer
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