Simple Gifts and Magical Moments

Finding my way home

2009-05-26T21:39:00.000-07:00

You have to follow a path and at first it's wide and easy to follow but then it's like Robert Frost. On the trail less traveled the leaves brush against your skin and clothes. It gets narrower and soon you're at a darker place, deep under the trees, and it smells like earth. A small stream is running through and a big, big maple hangs over.

This is a good place to stop and it seems a bit like childhood. It's a place to build a bridge to Teribithia; a place of pretend and rope swings; a place of discovery. If you listen, though, you can hear the river calling so you jump across the stream and keep going, leaving this place behind. The path is obscured with branches and dense like a jungle but it gets brighter ahead and soon you emerge at the river.

You stand at a bend and it's wide and slow, but this is mostly a river that moves. She climbs and splashes down boulders and eddies around logs and has all these different voices - the soft and slow, the crash and the roar, the trickle, the shush and chuckle. She only sounds like one voice until you listen, then you hear her full chorus. There's a log where you can sit and let the sounds wash over you. You can watch the languid place in the river where sometimes deer cross and eagles or osprey soar above. Sometimes there's a heron, duck or the ki ki ki ki of a kingfisher. All summer long, the swallows are daring and dashing.

The river's chorus may be loud but it's a quiet place. A place for watching. A place that washes you empty so you can feel peace inside. It's a good place rest as you throw sticks or skip rocks. A place to dip in toes and splash. On a hot summer day you may slip off your clothes and slide into water, clear and cool. You may share this place with your dog friend and watch as he chase the sticks. He will swim beside you, but also understand, this is place of calm.

After absorbing her soothing, you step away from lady river. There's still more trail to follow. It's narrow, and is almost more a memory of a journey, then a real path. It moves through trees along side the river. Even though it's a secret sort of trail, the leaves no longer brush against you. Now you voyage between Douglas fir and cedar, giant trees with rough brown bark. They are so big you lose sense of their size and they become part of the sky. The air turns green as it's filtered through their branches high above. This is an even quieter place than beside the river. Moss makes your footsteps whisper and the birds sing high above there voices distant in that green filtered sunlight. The river murmurs, barely audible, reassuring you she's still there.

The forest isn't a place for sitting. This is a place of Mystery and you are a mere guest in the ageless cycle of life. Here you can believe in elves, ents and hobbits. Here you feel young and you wonder what lies ahead. This place feels like yours, even though you know it doesn't belong to you. You climbs steeply up and suddenly the air is wet and you tingle with anticipation. Wet and breezy and the river's voice becomes demanding again and you push breathlessly forward.

It is Mystery that pulls you into the light. The air glistens with moisture, rainbow glow, and the river's crashing has become a symphony. Every time you come here, you want to touch the waterfall. Maybe that's greediness, a desire for the power that pours forth. Her roar is so loud it's not just noise but vibrations that thrum inside your body. The spray immerses you. No matter how many times you try to touch the waterfall the wind and waves push you back. It's doesn't matter that you can't touch, because she has already reached out and wrapped you in her wet embrace.

May Morning

2009-05-14T20:03:00.000-07:00

The cottonwood enticed my attention
With her new shawl of delicate green
And winking raindrop jewels.
I marveled at her supple body
Contorted in a sinuous bend.

When she had stood
Exposed and naked
I had passed her by.
Unheeding.

Now I stopped,
Entranced
By her exotic display,
As she danced
To the forest’s rhythm,
Instead of my frenetic,
Human pace.

Life Lessons and Schmoozer the Wonder Mutt

2008-11-14T17:18:00.000-08:00

I grew up watching those dramatic TV movies with the happy ending. You know the ones, where someone is dying of a horrible disease or some catastrophe has struck. At the end of the movie there's a dramatic moment where somehow it all has meaning. The music comes up and you're left with the idea that all the hurt was part of some greater scheme and everything is now going to be alright. I understand why those movies are made and why we want to believe. The idea that there's some greater purpose to tragedy and pain allows us to deny our powerlessness.

I know that life is unfair. Bad things happen without plan or purpose. Death more often brings fear and pain, then nobility. The people I admire most in the world are people who know and accept those realities and yet still have hope and the ability to inspire. People who strive to do what they believe is right, with no certainty of success. I hope that I can be like that. I don't aspire to greatness. I live my life on a very small scale. I work, write, spend time outdoors and care for the animals that share my life.

I've wanted to write about Schmoozer the Wonder Mutt for months. He is severely epileptic. I've been blocked because I thought I was supposed to create something incredibly positive that turns his epilepsy into a life lesson that makes everything ok. Schmoo is so much more then his epilepsy. He is a silly, smart, loving, friendly and dramatic dog. I will not make him into a poster child for canine epilepsy. People often want to symbolize and nobilize disease and disability. I have known many disabled people and doing that is a disservice to individuals who have stories, pain, joys and hopes just like anyone else. I understand it's a hard balance. It would be just as wrong to ignore the significance of the struggles as it is make them become the overriding theme.

Of course, I am learning from the experience of dealing with his epilepsy, just as I learned some valuable life lessons from my leaking water heater last week. When things first became serious I was convinced that I wasn't capable of taking care of him. I made mistakes. I was scared and overwhelmed. I still make mistakes. I still spend time afraid for him and overwhelmed. Life continues on and I also have hope and ordinary days. Schmoo goes to work with me, plays, eats, goes on daily walks and has both human and doggy friends.

I think I need to write about his epilepsy. Writing seems to be how I process my experiences. However, I don't need to come to any great understanding or allow the epilepsy to become the defining narrative. This week has been good for Schmoo. He's losing weight. Actually, he doesn't consider that good. He tells me he's starving and practices his sad expressions as his energy level increases. We've had some good play sessions and spent several hours today at the big dog park. Wednesday was day thirteen, which is a significant point. We can't seem to go fourteen days seizure-free. His seizures are usually violent grand-mals that last several minutes. This time he started to go into a seizure, but never lost consciousness and in less then 30 seconds had pulled out of it. He's never done that before and I am thrilled. However, what stands out for me this week is a different moment. Wednesday also brought over 4 inches of rain and Schmoo silliness. In the midst of the rain the Wonder Mutt dashed away from me into the creek. This was not my plan and I was annoyed. I'm not sure why it mattered since it was raining so hard we were both soaked. I found him, not only standing in the middle of the stream, but positioned under a mini waterfall the excessive rain has caused. The water was crashing onto his head and splashing everywhere. I have no idea how he could breathe but he was biting at the torrent of water and radiating sheer joy. I can still feel that joy and it will carry me forward into the weeks to come.

This photo taken by Alan Winston:

Whales at Golden Gardens

2008-11-12T17:10:00.001-08:00

Instead of woods and wilderness
I walk the shores of a city park.
Nature brings a thrill
As the Sound is turbulent.
Dark water and white froth
Tussle against the shore,
Energized by storm surge.
As I watch the water
A black and shiny back
Smoothly emerges,
So unexpected I stare in disbelief,
Expecting it to turn into a wave.
Instead it arcs back down
Sliding gracefully below.
Only then do I exclaim wordlessly and point
Even though the moment has passed.
I finally splutter out "Whale!"
Disbelief churns like the water.
We stare intensely
And then…
Spray plumes up,
The whale's breath
Takes away
The collective breath
Of human spectators.
Glimpses of fins,
The elusive Orcas
Spout and surface
Choppy waves simmer –
With a stew pod of whales.

Emotion, Memory and Coal

2008-09-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

Just over a year ago Coal died. Early in the week I tried to sit down and write about my old dog. I found I couldn't. I struggle with the the fact that forgetting is a part of grieving and healing. When I was 15 my friend Sean died. After a time no one talked about him and I was furious. I was young and I could not understand how people had "just forgotten about him". It seemed like a betrayal. It made the loss real. I wanted to hold on. More then 20 years later, I still remember him. Memory is strange. I doubt everything I remember about him is accurate. I remember some odd, disconnected pieces, like standing in line with him to get our report cards. I have no doubt there is much I've forgotten too. What comes first to my mind is Sean's goofy laugh. The memory that comes first and strongest, when I think of Coal, is security and comfort. I would lay on the floor with him. Sometimes I'd give him a hug, and sometimes push my face against his big furry body and enjoy the closeness. Those are good memories. Really though, I think I'm talking about feelings. The detailed memories may fade, but the feelings remain.

It makes sense that I focus on memories. Feelings make me uneasy. I like that line from Dragent "Just the facts ma'am". It seems like it should be possible to structure life with facts and actions. I have the idea that life would be orderly then. I'm wrong. Right now hurricane Gustav is striking the Gulf Coast. I don't accept that there is purpose and plan in everything. I believe in both free will and the force of nature. Sometimes, things just happen. Life is sometimes chaotic and often uncertain.

I am a feeling creature, whether I want to be or not. I'm fascinated with weather, but the reason I follow the news about the hurricane is because of both the awe and dread it inspires in me. The detailed memories of Coal may be fading, but the feelings remain. The sense of love I felt, from a cowardly, gentle old mutt who would let me bury my face in his fur and soak in his warmth.

Storm

2008-08-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

The air hangs heavy

And my body aches

With sympathy.

The pressure creates

Intense desire

For release.

The tension is tangible.

Sweat clings to my body.

The clouds hang bloated

Making the day

Dim and uncertain.

My skin prickles,

A shuddering breath

Then tumultuous rain.

Release comes.

With a violent clash

Of light and sound

Journey to the River

2008-06-24T20:45:00.000-07:00

I'd been waiting for the flood waters recede. That may conjure images of flooded towns and deep water. It was nothing so dramatic. The river didn't flood anything beside my small, local trail. As sumer struggled to arrive, the snow pack, double what was normal, was melting. I visit this area regularly. I've been to Yellowstone, Crater Lake and on many wilderness excursions. I suspect some of my deepest memories, will be of "my place".

Schmoozer, the Wonder Pup, and I, arrived to grass smell is so strong I could almost taste it. The first meadow had just been mowed. Schmoo and I walked along the edge of the meadow, captivated by the change and a big mountain beaver trundled by. We cpntinued to the back meadow. It's such a peaceful place with the open field, bird song and view of Mount Si but a sense of adventure crept in. For weeks now the end of trail has been full of water because of the amazing snow melt. Water slowly receding, the flooded trail had become a big mud bog. I'd visited recently and decided to cross the next day. However, when I'd arrived expecting to walk barefoot through the mud, the river had risen like the temperature and the trail was a wide expanse of water.

This time I found lots of mud and shallow water. I squelched carefully along the edge and looked for a way across that wouldn't soak me or suck the shoes off my feet. No luck. I back tracked and squishing around the other side. I stopped at the water and peered at the narrow impasse. l gazed dubiously at the teeny logs across the water and decided I couldn't wait for another day. I wobbled my along. The Wonder Pup crashed about, delighted that I was finally crossing over. He swam through water, and leaped onto my uncertain bridge. I stood there keeping my balance. Schmoo is full of enthusiasm but lacks a degree of grace and he sprawled surprised and uncoordinated across the logs. Finally he got himself sorted out and dashed off so I could cross safely. I was proud I survived 80 pounds of excited pup on my perilous perch. The path was all overgrown. Spring time and weeks of no visitors had created something exotic. The whole way jungle like leaves bumped my face. My eyes closed, I pushed through the tangle and arrived at the river. At last I had made it. Here was a wild river and almost no beach. My place has changed. It was just me and the pup and some Canada geese and I had the same feeling I've had walking a trail at Yellowstone.

I stood at the edge of river throwing sticks for Schmoo and marveling over Nature's ability to transform. The mosquitoes also loved the wet, jungle atmosphere and soon it was time to leave. Back through the green shimmers of bushes, moving with the whoosh of the river I felt like I'd stepped into some wonderful children's storybook. I was on some sort of glorious adventure where the ordinary becomes something magical. I squelched through mud, stepping carefully and wobbled across the tiny logs again. Relieved I'd passed this hazard, I took one more step and squoosh! One foot sunk in. I pulled it out quickly but that shoe came out gray-brown and slick. Strangely, I felt slightly pleased, as if I'd been traveling some place far away and needed a souvenir. I wandered back through the familiar meadows, Schmoo bounding happily ahead. His joy added a layer of satisfaction the peace I felt as I watched the birds. The good feelings carried us to the car. As always, on the drive home, I checked for elk, and the meadow beside the road was filled. The biggish herd was spread out and the sun was low and kept splashing on them so there'd be these moments of intense brown-red stark against the yellow-green of the field.

I've been looking at the water on the trail for several weeks now pondering how to get across. Waiting for the moment I could follow Schmoo to the other side. Sometimes the metaphors are true I suppose because all the anticipation and effort into crossing the water was such a small part of a larger journey and not the point at all. We all need to have a place of our own. I think we also all need to have moments of transformation that allow us to see our familiar paths as adventures and opportunities.

Waterfall Screams

2008-06-07T19:16:00.000-07:00

At a safe distance
She stood and watched
The waterfall pulse
With life and energy.
The spray, slipped
Around and in,
Damp inside
Drab clothes,
Isolating her
In gray mist.

Water punished
Rock and earth,
Ripping away bits.
Her body thrummed.
The power,
Insistent and restless,
Pushed branches,
Her hair and clothes.
She shivered,
Still and silent
As the Falls spoke
Her screams.

Mountain Light

2008-05-15T19:37:00.000-07:00

The sun slaps,
Morning bright,
Against the side
Of the mountain.
Where green trees
Normally drape,
Heavy and dull,
Across rounded shoulders,
Champagne colored veils
Shimmer and entice.
Flashing her sinuous flanks,
The mountain stretches.
The sun dances away,
Taking away glory
As morning moves to day.

Living by the River

2008-03-11T19:41:00.000-07:00

You learn to recognize her moods.
Sometimes she is soft and gentle.
Her touch slides across you,
Soothing and calm.
She sings a lullaby,
As she wraps around you,
Covering you with with her embrace.

Other times she sparkles.
Her voice chortles.
Her dance is sinuous and enticing,
But her coolness makes you wary,
And you keep your distance.

Today she is swollen and heavy.
She wraps herself in veiling fog,
But demands attention.
She slaps you with cold power,
Barely contained.
No one can ignore her.

October is the Month of Depression

2007-11-03T18:19:00.000-07:00

October
Is the month
Of depression.
It leaves me
Swollen with emotion,
Dark and crumbling,
Like a rain soaked
Rotten log.

There are moments though,
Crisp and bright,
When the leaves dance
And the trees whisper.
My spirit stirs,
Remembering
That as a child
I laughed
And chased the wind.

Breathing the musk
Of autumn,
Full of emotion and memory,
I embrace the change.

I believe

2006-08-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

I believe in sadness and joy.
I believe in hope and fear.
I believe in success and failure.

I believe,
Therefore I am.
I am emotional,
Determined and insecure
Stubborn and proud.

I believe in biology.
I believe in genetics.
I believe in chemistry.

I believe that
Nature versus nurture.
That is the question.
It is not nobler
To suffer the slings and arrows
Of outrageous moods.
Clumsiness is inevitable
The different drummer
Didn’t chose a different beat
She had no rhythm.

I believe there are things we will not overcome.
I believe there are things we will not change.
I believe there are things we will not accept.

I believe that
Life is not fair.
If at first you don’t succeed, you may never succeed.
Terrible things happen.
And the idea that God
Doesn’t give you more than you can handle
Is ridiculous and judgmental.

I believe in God.
I believe in choices.
I believe in reality.

I believe
There is a god.
Not an all powerful God,
Who directs life like a puppeteer.
But a God both distant and dear.
I believe in a small, clear voice.
Sometimes we listen and hear
But it is our choice.
Our path to follow.
I believe in miracles,
But I know that tragedy
Is unavoidable.

Things may happen for a reason

But we rarely discover why.
Life is filled with pain and death.
Every moment we are faced with a choice.
Do I eat the peach?
Do I descend the stair?
Do I give in to despair?

I believe in beauty.
I believe in strength.
I believe in second chances.

I believe
Childhood may be the wonder years,
But if you look around
There is still plenty at which to marvel.
Stand under the stars at night.
Stand alone.
Feel the soft, cool, summer breeze.
Listen to the whispers of the night.
Who else stands looking?
Sleepless at night,
Full of fear and loneliness
As a new day dawns, we all continue on.
This is strength.
Everyone does it.
Everyone has it.

Each day is the beginning of the rest our life

But we can’t deny the past.
A new day may overwhelm with choices.
Tragedy may strike.

I muddle through as best I can
Trying to find some value
In each experience.
This is my strength.
And tomorrow is a new day.
I may chose differently.
I may choose more wisely.
I may make a choice,
That takes the unchangeable me
Into a world of wonder
And makes it better.

This I believe.

(originally written in 2002. rewritten in 2006)

Warm Sun

2005-02-21T19:47:00.000-08:00

Warm sun’s firm embrace
Cool breeze caresses my face
Rustling leaves whisper, “shush”
Highlighted green, deep and lush
Dappled light that shifts and moves
Bugs buzz and bird song soothes
Day wraps and holds me tight
My body rests my soul takes flight.

Decay

2005-02-14T19:59:00.000-08:00

Long and firm
But giving way,
Towards forest floor
The fir tree splays -
Tall no more.

Dark and brown
And mossy green,
Soft decay
A fallen dream.
Broken down
And gone astray,
Massive roots
Given way.

Worms and beetles
Feast and feed,
Scuttle and chew
In desperate need.
Survival
The forest creed.
Death belongs -
It's Nature's seed.

At the beach

2005-01-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

I write my name
In the sand
And watch the wind
Blow the letters away.

Alone on the beach
I'm out of reach
My head whistles
The breeze blows
Passing though,
Leaving me,
More empty
Than I began.

I drift
My sleeves flutter
The waves mutter
Sand scrapes
Nothing remains.

Desert Song (and ocean photo)

2004-12-07T20:19:00.000-08:00

Notes of music
Fall into my soul
Beating
Against the hard
Compact surface
Running off
In a flood
Of emotion.

The cracked surface
Resists
repels
And then drinks
Sucking greedily,
Needing more.
Never enough.

The soul softens,
Expands,
New life.
Reaching for more
Beginning
In a song.
Cascading rhythms
Refresh
The parched landscape.

The Peace of the Beach

2004-01-16T20:28:00.000-08:00

I love,
The sound of the waves,
Strong but subtle.
The feel of the sand between my toes.
Warm.
The birds, so many species of birds.
Bright and dull.
Watching the water splash and shape.
Light.
Being able to walk and walk and walk.
The smell.
They way Coal gets crazy, like a pup.
Butt wag.
Sniffing the tide line then trotting up to the water
Cautious and perky.
Afraid of the waves but loving the cool.
No swimming!
He always has to taste the ocean water,
Still salty.
I love all the interesting things you can find,
Bits of stories
And the way it always changes.
I love the peace.

Some Geese Flew by Today

2003-11-13T20:57:00.000-08:00

Some geese flew by today
Heading off on their migrational way.

A storm blew and the fir trees shook
I paused to take a wondering look.
Without a doubt Autumn was here
But what I saw gave me a twinge of fear.

The wind it blew so very strong
It seemed their flight path had gone wrong
That flock of geese they blew off course
Their honks of dismay even sounded hoarse

To the East they blew in a broken vee
And then no forward progress at all could I see
The distant flock fell apart all together
They could not withstand the horrible weather.

And my stomach, it had started to churn
They have only so much energy to burn
One big storm can destroy them all
Was that to be the case this Fall?

I watched and hoped and looked away
I couldn’t face more of Nature’s display
Nature is my greatest thrill
But I have always known that it could chill.

Some geese flew overhead today
And their struggle, it filled me with dismay.

Snoqualmie Smooth

2003-11-04T21:17:00.000-08:00

Snoqualmie smooth and softly pink
Colors swirling with sunset’s ink
Autumn trees and winters cool
Mallards swimming in your pool.
River rocks and Siren’s song
In your embrace, I belong.

The Things I choose to embrace

2003-01-29T21:21:00.000-08:00

I have seen a lone tree sing,
As it belly-danced in the wind,
In a field in early spring.

I have heard coyotes yip
Their voices only, surrounding me
On an ordinary hiking trip.

I have listened to frogs
Their voices a million strong
Creation started with pollywogs.

I have looked in the eyes
Of a small and fearless red fox
A shared moment of surprise.

I have walked along the river path
The sound of water flowing and rain patter
A wet and musical bath.

I have stopped in my tracks
For a small pink leaf in a puddle of mud
Its beauty unique although its setting lacks.

I have sat still on a rock as night slowly fell.
My dog’s nose twitching, my human ears straining,
Sight giving way, to sound and smell

And taking flight from a tree
An owl turned its head 180 degrees
To look back at me.

Magic moments filled with grace
Life’s simple pleasure or God’s gifts
These are the things I choose to embrace.

For Grumbles Kitty

2002-01-22T21:30:00.000-08:00

Fat cat pacing in my lap

Demanding attention
Your tail going slap.

Silly cat biting my thumb,
Impossible for me to ignore,
So heavy my legs will go numb.

Soft cat I hear your purr
OK, I’ll stop writing
And stroke your smooth fur.