• John O'Donohue,  landscape,  poems,  poetry,  seasons,  snow,  winter scenes

    Sharing a poem with you

    In Praise of the Earth

    Let us bless
    The imagination of the Earth,
    That knew early the patience
    To harness the mind of time,
    Waited for the seas to warm,
    Ready to welcome the emergence
    Of things dreaming of voyaging
    Among the stillness of land.

    And how light knew to nurse
    The growth until the face of the Earth
    Brightened beneath a vision of color.

    When the ages of ice came
    And sealed the Earth inside
    An endless coma of cold,
    The heart of the Earth held hope,
    Storing fragments of memory,
    Ready for the return of the sun.

    Let us thank the Earth
    That offers ground for home
    And holds our feet firm
    To walk in space open
    To infinite galaxies.

    Let us salute the silence
    And certainty of mountains:
    Their sublime stillness,
    Their dream-filled hearts.

    The wonder of a garden
    Trusting the first warmth of spring
    Until its black infinity of cells
    Becomes charged with dream;
    Then the silent, slow nurture
    Of the seed’s self, coaxing it
    To trust the act of death.

    The humility of the Earth
    That transfigures all
    That has fallen
    Of outlived growth.

    The kindness of the Earth,
    Opening to receive
    Our worn forms
    Into the final stillness.

    Let us ask forgiveness of the Earth
    For all our sins against her:
    For our violence and poisonings
    Of her beauty.

    Let us remember within us
    The ancient clay,
    Holding the memory of seasons,
    The passion of the wind,
    The fluency of water,
    The warmth of fire,
    The quiver-touch of the sun
    And shadowed sureness of the moon.

    That we may awaken,
    To live to the full
    The dream of the Earth
    Who chose us to emerge
    And incarnate its hidden night
    In mind, spirit, and light.

    from To Bless the Space Between Us
    by John O’Donohue
  • grass,  landscape,  natural areas,  Plants,  prairie

    Being Alone

    Beard-grass at Reservoir Ridge Natural Area

    “Our language has wisely sensed these two sides of man’s being alone. It has created the word “loneliness” to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word “solitude” to express the glory of being alone.” Paul Tillich

    The wind, warm days, and low humidity is stirring the embers of the fire. We can see, smell and feel in our throats the smoke from the Cameron Peak fire. The good news the crews have been able to make headway to prevent the fire from growing even bigger. Could see more moisture in 2-3 days. I took this a couple days ago when we had less smoke. I found this very uncomfortable rock to sit on and watch out over the meadow. This is the view. 

  • animals,  clouds,  horizons,  landscape

    More quiet machines

    Clouds and grazing cattle from yesterday afternoon

    I was not in a good place yesterday. I felt frustration because of the state of our environmental crisis, loss of so much of our natural world, our political mess, economic mess, the entitlement mentality of individuals and corporations, the anger and violence  in our world, and my own insecurities and fears along with my own feelings of entitlement. My journal is one of the tools I use when I become aware of these shadowy mental states. So, I took time in the afternoon to write about it. As words began to appear, I noticed a lot of wants and little gratitude for what I already have. Seems my appetite to want “more” crops up again, even in these troubled times, even when so many are struggling, even when I have all that I need.

    Yet, through my writing I became aware the root of my frustration is: the noise. Silence has become a precious gift in my life. So, the noise of man’s machines that have grated against me for years, seemed to be even louder, more intense. Part of that has been the reduction of noise during this lockdown. I think I’ve mentioned this before but sometimes I just want to run away. So I did, even knowing there is no away.

    The above image is as close to away as it got for me, about 7-8 miles east of town. I pulled over to watch and listen to nature, letting it all sink in, soothing, healing this troubled soul. The birds were singing and the grass eating cow machines were busily working. There is a twitter  quote by Neil deGrasse Tyson that says a cow is a biological machine invented by humans to turn grass into steak. What’s really cool is it’s a quiet machine. Why can’t we have more quiet machines? I didn’t want to go back to town.

  • Documentary/Street,  grass,  landscape,  shadows,  trees

    …that’s a good thing.

    The twisted shadows on campus from yesterday

    Well the damage to my car is costing me $380 and the raccoon got away. Called my insurance and my deductible is $500. I had some anger as I thought through this thing, both the insrance company and the raccoon. This is the first time I’ve filed a claim in my 54 years of paying insurance premiums. So, my insurance has yet to pay anything, they’ve only taken my money. Of course this also means I’ve never been in a place to need it and that’s a good thing.

  • grass,  landscape,  snow

    I’m set now…

    Tall grass at the Red Fox Meadows nature area this morning

    I played a bit with this image, trying out the texture and dehaze sliders. Kinda funky looking. And, it’s still snowing.

    Anyway, when I cleaned off the car this morning I had at least 3 inches of snow on my car. I ran out of the maple syrup that I add to my Irish oats in the morning so things  were going to get tense if I didn’t restock before tomorrow morning. So, my first stop was Red Fox Meadows, filled up the car, which I hadn’t done in over three weeks, and picked up the essential syrup. I’m set now. Oh, and I picked up one of my prescriptions.

    For anyone interested here is a link to a ten minute podcast by David DuChemin on making art that touches the heart. I enjoyed it, hope you may also.