I was thrilled when I saw a Great Blue Heron at Abbott’s Lagoon. Then I saw the Great White Egret next to it. I approached closer and closer, and still they were quietly enjoying the view, and then, at times, busy grooming. Even birds, get ready for the day. They weren’t bothered as I circled round them, entranced with their ability to cleanse, appreciate, and savor what we all share, the gift of life!
Yesterday I drove out to Abbott’s Lagoon in Point Reyes. It was early, sunny, and warm. I was alone. I’ll show pictures of my walk, and then, in the next post zero in on more photos of a Great Blue Heron and Great White Egret grooming with a view. I also saw across the lagoon what I knew must be otters since they hang out there, and slide down the dunes, and also groom. This was a huge lump that stayed still, and was gone when I returned. I came home and zoomed in on the lump. Otters huddle together in what’s called a “romp”. For sure, two otters, but I think there’s also two babies. It’s that time of year. Quite a day. I’ll try to give a taste with photos.
Tonight I sat outside with the light of the almost full Strawberry moon. Creatures scurried around in the ivy below the deck.
I thought of the words of Hafiz:
What does light talk about?
I asked a plant that once,
It said, “I am not sure,
but it makes me
Grow”.
That brought me to the words of Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:
I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Light, be it particle or wave, has force: you rig a giant sail and go. The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.
And then I came to the words of Nelson Mandela:
It is never my custom to use words lightly. If twenty-seven years in prison have done anything to us, it was to use the silence of solitude to make us understand how precious words are and how real speech is in its impact on the way people live and die.
Where I live we often hear sirens heading out highway 1, especially on the weekends. There’s always a feeling of sadness for whoever is affected and what has happened. One never expects it to be someone you know, but this time it was. A good friend fell asleep driving back from Commonweal. Her car went off the side of the embankment on Panoramic highway and her car with her in it fell and turned over for 200 feet. It was quite a rescue effort, involving our local agencies. She’s in the hospital and she’s alive. She will heal.
I sit with it. My father died in an accident. It brings up fragility, something I’ve lived with since I was 19. Like that, a person you love can be gone. Take care – give care to yourself and those you love.
We were married June 19, 1971 so 55 years ago. We celebrated by spending the night in Sausalito where I took a slew of photos, and this morning had great fun interacting with a Great Blue Heron. Being in Sausalito in the mist skews distances, so, at times, I felt as though I could have been here with the Coast Miwok sailing across the bay in a tule boat.
I walked Tennessee Valley early this morning in an environment wet with mist. I walked with these words from Neil deGrasse Tyson.
We are part of this universe; we are in this universe, but perhaps more important than both of those facts is that the universe is in us.
Immersed, I was surrounded with birds singing, flying, scurrying, feasting. I noticed the changing smells and the array of greens. I thought of algae changing the color of the reflecting pool in Washington D.C. to green. Plants rule, and yes, “the universe is in us”, and it’s for us to notice and live aware.
Walking around my neighborhood I crossed the bridge to Eastwood Park, and took a photo of the creek. When I looked at the photo, I saw a perfect reflection of the sky. I was brought to consider even more deeply my steps, and where I place my feet. The ground and I reflect.
Leaving early to walk Tennessee Valley to the beach, I saw a deer at the top of our driveway, and then, three more along the path to the beach. Quail were hidden but sounding: qua querko, and so many birds were singing, I felt I was in a jungle. What a gift of a morning!
It’s the end of the school year for children and teachers. Photos this week are of our grandson receiving a Little League trophy, a self-portrait, a painting with the words Love Is Love, and a camping trip with friends from his pre-school. He couldn’t have a broader, more proud smile. I think of our worry for him a few weeks ago, and can’t stop smiling.
It’s been a major step on the journey. What have I learned? Something beautiful carries us through what is tough. I’m filled with memories of all the help I, and we, received. And, I needed to process it, to let the tension go. Animals know this. They run from danger, then, when safe, pause and rest.
This morning I meditated on sadness. At first, it was personal, and then, it expanded out into sadness for the world, and then, just sadness. The fog is in. The redwood tree waves its branches gently, fanning the air I breathe.
Gratitude is a wreath around me, and I’m the eye, an I that is not separate, is one with beauty, balance, and fear, all strengthened as one.
The text just came through to “Fab Fam” from my daughter-in-law.
Great news! The MRI came back. The bone is infected, but there is no abscess. We’re going home with several follow ups scheduled for blood draws to track. Yay!
Well, an infected bone may not be the greatest news, but that there is no abscess which would have required minor surgery to drain is super-good news. And he’ll be home, despite his joyful time at the hospital.
I can’t believe the relief. Again, thank you for all the prayers, lit candles, and support. I felt it, and I know he did too. We all did! Support! Connection! Love! Gratitude! Deep thanks in all ways!!
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