WHAT'S MISSING?

The view that saves each day

Moving past the five month mark on Covid-19 now, much of life as we knew it "before" is missing.

I miss seeing the smiles I at least hope are behind those masks.

I miss hugs.

I miss seeing friends and the long, leisurely conversations.

I miss ease.

I miss planning for this year's road trip with Jenna.

I miss teaching and the camaraderie of the wonderful students laughing and sharing and creating together.

I miss all this and more, yet...
There is much to appreciate as well. 

More time for longer walks with my plus one friend, Catharine, and the joy of those deep conversations.

Ever greater appreciation of time spent with family.

Good, caring neighbors

More time to explore books and good writing.

The joy of producing dinner from my own garden.

Thinking, not on the fly, but with a greater depth, about all things in this crazy world.

And more...and always, always, always cool breezes and birdsong to enjoy.

MAKE IT GO AWAY!!!

One of the problems with observing social distancing, it seems to me, is that we get antsy. Wanting, wanting, wanting...to see friends and family, to go out to dinner easily, to take a road trip and feel the freedom of the road, to not need to always have at the edge of things all the "worry."

So many of the days start to feel as if there is a sameness to them that we push against. Still, change does not need to be measured in big ways to still be change.  

If you want something different,

do something different.

"Same crap every day"

doesn't describe the day, 

it describes your attitude toward it.

Steve Marshall

For me, taking a different direction to a different place on a daily walk makes for a variety I like. Looking for new ways to cook things grown in the garden certainly calls for a change of attitude. I always thought my thumb was way too brown for this gardening stuff. Exploring to find new and often exciting authors to read has been a real pleasure. Reading back through old, old journals allows for seeing things in a new light. Trying my hand at new or even sometimes languishing art forms has been fun.

It just seems there is always some way to move away from that "same crap." And, while there is still a wanting, a longing for this pandemic to be past, there has to be for me an attitude adjustment of sorts. I try...and that's the step to doing it for me.

And too good not to share:

baby owls

WHO ARE YOU? WHO AM I?

What I CAN do

The urge to write "real" persists in knocking on my door. But what IS real? Who am I in all that is going on in the world right now?

Am I the older, wiser person who believes I understand the world? Hell, no!

Am I the Pollyanna who sees all through rose-colored glasses? NOT!!

So what is real for me on this July day 2020? 

I worry. I know moments of despair. I rage. I cry. I wonder why I seem to have no wisdom to impart, why there seems to be no context in which to focus merely on what I can control.
Everything is not fine...and nothing I can do is going to make it so.

And yet...there is the garden to tend. There is the writing I've committed to doing. There are mini-art projects to keep creativity going. There are wonderful and wise books to read. There are Zoom opportunities to hear authors talk about their work. There are YouTube videos where more gardening tips than one could ever use reside. Recipes to try. Friends to contact. Walks in new places and old, and increasing the miles because there is the gift of time.

And, speaking of time, much of what seems to be lost during this pandemic will eventually be restored if history can be believed. But time? It will be gone, not to be replaced or restored. Some things relating to time will just never be. And so I grieve. Being real, I need to acknowledge my grief for not only what IS, but also for what will never be.

That's not negative; it just is what is on this day in July 2020.

SOFT SOUNDS IN THE SILENCE

Solace

As I drift off to sleep each night the sound of a lone owl softly hooting in a nearby tree brings a gentle smile to my face. It is a lovely sound that somehow brings the solace of normalcy (or is it the normalcy of solace?)

The sounds of nature are often what brings comfort to counter the aggravations of a given day. Whether the soft lap of waves on the shore, the hoot of the owl, the cooing of doves, the trickle of water in a lovely brook, or a soft breeze blowing through the trees, these sounds in their very softness temper the noises of our everyday world. Hearing these things, I for one find myself eased by them.

What are some of the sounds that lift your spirits?

A creek in a canyon

COME WALK WITH ME

Just come along with me...

in peaceful meditation

ENJOY

ON THE ROAD AGAIN...AND SINGING A SONG

Beauty at home

It is that time again--daughter Jenna and I hit the road each fall to explore. We start out in a direction that could very possibly change as we go. This year it will be easterly as we head to our first stop in Arizona. After that...well, it's anybody's guess. I'm leaning toward heading for a bit cooler, like elevations in New Mexico? We'll see. Wherever we go, it will be a great time spent with daughter and her music and some good hiking thrown in, of course.

My intention is to try and keep up this twice a week thing on the road, but there are few guarantees. Goals are just goals....

GATHERING...

High mountain wilderness

Like nature herself, creativity is something continually reborn. In nature it seems there is much gathering of precious moments to cherish. Often, creativity is the same.

I'd like to share a time when, high in the mountains, I went a-gathering.

The lavish onslaught begins in the early dawn inside a sleeping bag covered with icy rime.A chorus of unfamiliar birdsong echoes around to waken me in the chill morning air. I want to remember the sounds. I listen hard, gathering.

On through the day I am the willing receptacle of sight and sound, taste, texture, and smell: hot coffee as I bring it to my lips fills my nostrils with familiar aroma; the crunch of pumpkin seeds and tart dried cranberries in  my mouth on the trail; the rhythm of footsteps marches along to the clang of metal on my pack; the distinctive sweet, pungent smell of sage...These and so many more sense-filling moments are gathered here in the heights.

At the end of the day, with the the dwindling fire's smoke in my hair, I am again tucked into the same sleeping bag for the night. The wind plays a song through the trees, a bat swoops, the final call of a raven is accompanied by the rush and shore lap of the nearby river. I look one last time up at the night sky where myriad stars cast their light on the darkness. I close my eyes, then pop them open one last time to record all this magnificence. Gathering, even as I drift off.

Months, even these years later, I can still pull up these glorious mountain memories. They remind me again and again of the value of simply being--of listening and seeing and hearing and tasting and touching without doing another thing. The gathering nourishes long after the moments themselves. 

WHAT THE SPIRIT REACHES FOR...

Journal entry for May

For quite some time now I have been involved in several round robin journaling groups. While I thought at first that I would not like the format, I have found it is usually a push and a good one, a place for trying on new techniques and/or ideas.

In the midst of the busy time getting ready for the summer festival I found myself searching for just what I wanted to do for the month's journal entry. While cleaning some shelves, it appeared in the form of a print I had done previously on Gampi paper tucked away in a book. Some paint for background, adhere the print, a tree quickly sketched in, just the right words....voila!

The uninhabited cabin in Montana had appealed to me to photograph several years ago. The isolation and yet the peace of the place somehow resonated. Now, as I ready for the two plus months of what summer in Laguna is--crowded streets, traffic snarls, busy crowds of folks at the three festivals, and so much more--I feel the pull of a place like this one.

Mary Oliver wrote: "I have decided to find myself a home in the mountains, somewhere high up where one learns to live peacefully in the cold and the silence. It's said that in such a place certain revelations may be discovered. That what the spirit reaches for may be eventually felt, if not exactly understood."

Is this the pull? Is this what my own spirit reaches for? Perhaps. Guess it will wait until the summer season ends though.