Reading

From Ron Charles today in the Washington Post:

At the opening ceremony of the Frankfurt Book Fair, Turkish-British writer Elif Shafak said, “In a world that remains deeply polarized and bitterly politicized, and torn apart by inequality and wars, and the cruelty we are capable of inflicting on each other and on Earth, our only home, in such a troubled world, what can writers and poets even hope to achieve? What place is there for stories and imagination when tribalism, destruction and othering speak more loudly and boldly?” (I’m quoting from notes that Shafak sent to me.)

Shafak, whose most recent novel is “There Are Rivers in the Sky,” spoke with longing for the 21st century that never arrived — or at least hasn’t yet. She recalled the flutter of international optimism when the Berlin Wall fell, the Soviet empire broke apart, and the internet promised to create a well-informed electorate. In those heady days, for a moment at least, it felt possible to see a bright future for peace and democracy. 

“Fast forward, today,” she said, “we are living in a world in which there is way too much information, but little knowledge and even less wisdom.… As we scroll up and down, more out of habit than out of anything else, we have no time to process what we see. No time to absorb or reflect or feel. Hyper-information gives us the illusion of knowledge.” 

“For true knowledge to be attained we need to slow down. We need cultural spaces, literary festivals, an open and honest intellectual exchange.”

I continue to read that in reading novels we gain empathy.  Focusing, we enter another’s mind and world.  We’re exposed to lifestyles, characters, choices and worlds wider and broader than we may personally know.

It’s a challenge to continue to see lies reported as truth. It’s discouraging to know the money that is poured into a race to destroy our democracy, and yet there are books to read and places like the Bay Area Children’s Museum to go and return to joy, creativity, thoughtfulness, and trust.

A fish flies at the museum
Music vibrates the air
Looking through a portal
Reflecting
Touching and Seeing

Majesty

We have a huge redwood rising up and spreading in our yard.  It was about twelve feet tall when we moved in 47 years ago.  Now, it towers, and a young redwood has appeared next to the house. I know we should remove it, and yet, I resonate to the words of Jane Hirshfield who understands.

It is foolish to let a young redwood grow next to a house. Even in this one lifetime, you will have to choose. That great calm being, this clutter of soup pots and books. Already, the first branch tips brush at the window. Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.

Growing up outside an upstairs window
Room for two redwoods, an oak tree, and a wind chime
Rising

Autumn

Yesterday we went to an apple orchard to pick apples.  The trees beckoned, and branched and bent beautifully to offer their fruit.  At first, it seemed like an Easter egg hunt, a search for the “best” apple, and then, I slowed, overwhelmed with the abundance and an environment that was more than I thought I’d come for.  I was surrounded with hills, as I stood on soil that though still was tangled and ribboned with active, nourishing roots.

After picking, we ate apple turnovers scented with the cinnamon scent of fall.  It felt too sacred for photos, and enough to be part of the landscape of an orchard for a time.  

We returned to Jeff and Jan’s for a feast they created for us and friends.  We celebrate Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday in November, and yet I feel how the gratitude of Thanksgiving begins with the return of autumn and its offerings and gatherings of all that is produced.  

Jeff’s Tarte Soleil – puff pastry filled with tapenade
Invitation to teeth to sink
Fall Colors
A time for candlelight

Great Blue Herons

If you’ve been reading this blog for years, you know my love of Great Blue Herons, so when I read about Jarod K. Anderson’s book, Something in the Woods Loves You, I knew it was for me. 

The book opens with this:

“There’s an old story about Great Blue Herons. It says that while hunting the twilight shallows, herons can produce a strange, luminescent powder, pluck it from between their feathers with their spear-like beaks, and sprinkle it on the dark water to attract fish.”

He says yes, it’s a myth, and yet, picture how this is to the fish. “The fish are not curious in an intellectual way.  It’s a physical thing, their bodies called forward to witness the inexplicable. There, in the shallow winter waters, they are ready to believe in miracles.”

The heron allows Anderson to build the meaning he needs for the moment.  “Making meaning in this way is like creating harmony with two voices. I sing my portion. The heron sings hers. The harmony is woven and meaning exists in the world.”

I’m feeling the joy of exploration these days, an inner walk to explore what connects, how evolving connects and expands.

I’m with these words of H. Richard Niebuhr: 

“Pilgrims are persons in motion – passing through territories not their own – seeking something we call completion, or perhaps the word clarity will do as well, a goal to which only the spirit’s compass points the way.’

Three Great Blue Herons In Richardson Bay

Birds

The garden is complete, well, gardens are in constant motion and change, but it offers a respite to pause and peruse. I sit by the fountain and see and hear birds in the Maple tree above and frolicking in the fountain and among the rocks and plants.

Today I learn of a website where I can check the migration of birds where I live. You can do it too. https://birdcast.info

A hummingbird plays with its water reflection.
A dance of faces and curves
A Study in Complexity

Walking

I open the book Walking: One Step at a Time by Erling Kagge to these words: 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that one saves time travelling only two hours from one point to another instead of spending eight hours on the same journey. While this holds up mathematically, my experience is the opposite: time passes more quickly when I increase the speed of travel. My speed and time accelerate in parallel. It is as if the duration of a single hour becomes less than a clock-hour. When I am in a rush, I hardly pay attention to anything at all.

He goes on to write that one’s sense of space gets smaller with an increased pace.  He compares it to driving toward a mountain rather than walking to it.  Walking, “The mountain up ahead, which slowly changes as you draw closer, feels like an intimate friend by the time you’ve arrived.  Your eyes, ears, nose, shoulders, stomach and legs speak to the mountain, and the mountain replies. Time stretches out, independent of minutes and hours.”

“And this is precisely the secret held by all those who go by foot: life is prolonged when you walk. Walking expands time rather than collapses it.”

Circling the top of Mt. Tam
Making a Treasure Map with a trail of water

Resilience

Leo Tolstoy:

As August unfolds, it is a reminder that time is fleeting, urging us to savor every moment and make the most of our days.   

Flowers on the walk to Abbott’s Lagoon
Cow Parsnip along the way
Delicacy in Strength



Adaptability

Abbott’s Lagoon has sand dunes.  The river otters slide down them.  The tide was low when I was there yesterday so I didn’t see otters.  I was entranced to see plants growing on the sand by the lagoon. 

I’m with these words of Leonard Cohen:

If you don’t become the ocean you’ll be seasick every day.

The importance of transition with sand dunes
Plants growing on sand
A natural wreath with a white feather held in embrace
A place for a variety of species to live and thrive



Hugging Our Interdependence

Thich Nhat Hanh:

“You have to really hug the [one] you are holding. You have to make him or her very real in your arms.. breathing consciously and hugging with all your body, spirit, and heart. Hugging meditation is a practice of mindfulness. “Breathing in, I know my dear one is in my arms, alive. Breathing out, he or she is so precious to me.” If you breathe deeply like that, holding the person you love, the energy of your care and appreciation will penetrate into [them] and they will be nourished and bloom like a flower.” 

Redwood trees rise and root in circles
Water, rocks, and seaweed meet in nourishing touch
Seaweed and rock attach through tidal change

!

Counterbalancing the News

Feeling a bit on edge this morning, I went to Rodeo Beach to balance where water meets rock and sand.

Anxiety’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you very far.   Jodi Picoult

The Lagoon
Resting!
Surfers and Pelicans
Forms
Rocks looking like shark fins
Twins
Educational facilities at Fort Cronkhite