Presence is most intimate, closer than close, all-inclusive, limitless, unbound. It is the no-thing-ness, the aliveness, the non-substantiality, the radiance of everything. We discover this by simply giving open attention to whatever is showing up — present experiencing, the sensory-energetic immediacy of this very moment. Hearing sounds, seeing colors and shapes, feeling sensations in the body. ~ Joan Tollifson (Direct Experiencing, The Pathless Path I Recommend, January 6, 2024)
I can see this year is going to have a lot of first-time-without-Tim occasions, but I’m starting to embrace them with a little more openness, letting the feelings be. The grief isn’t as raw these days, the waves of it feel more gentle somehow. And so I had a nice time visiting the Coker Arboretum with Sally while the college students were away on spring break.
spring starflower (South America) with small milkweed bug
I did not notice that bug when I was taking the picture – it often amazes what the camera finds for me. We lingered quite a while near this beautiful patch of starflowers.
patch of spring starflowers
Virginia spring beauty
bridal wreath spirea
This bunch of spirea bushes was breathtaking – the camera tried but couldn’t quite capture the beauty. We also lingered here.
bridal wreath spirea
I don’t see nondual spirituality as a path to perpetual bliss. From my perspective, being awake is about total intimacy with life as it is. It’s not about escape or turning away. And it’s not about trying to find an explanation either, because ultimately, we can’t. Everything is the way it is because the whole universe is the way it is. ~ Joan Tollifson (Right Now, Just As It Is!, August 21, 2025, “The Play of Life”)
Carolina silverbell
Carolina silverbell
Our lives teach us who we are. ~ Salman Rushdie (In Good Faith)
Every once in a while the energy of a certain tree will attract me. This swamp chestnut oak was huge! There was something wise and majestic about it. I couldn’t get far enough away to get all of it, so I tried to get half of it. Conversely, because there are signs everywhere warning us to stay on the paths, I couldn’t get close enough to touch it, which is what I very much wanted to do.
swamp chestnut oak
But then I thought of my old gull friend with the mangled leg, and how I fed off his wise energy even though I never touched him. So I looked up into the branches and with the zoom lens saw some new leaves and catkins. It made me think of the quote about being intimate with life as it is.
swamp chestnut oak
blackberry
flowering dogwood
spring snowflake (Europe)
Kentucky coffeetree
Japanese flowering cherry tree (Kwanzan cultivar)
Japanese flowering cherry tree (Kwanzan cultivar)
The last two pictures were actually taken on the UNC campus as we were walking back to the car. These special cherry trees were presented to the university by the Class of 1929, making them almost 100 years old!
So many beautiful blossoms on such a lovely warm spring day. And so many peaceful thoughts to bring home with me.
11.14.23 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden ‘Old Blush’ Rose
It was a gorgeous autumn day when Janet and her mom came to see us in our new digs. The visit included a late afternoon walk in the botanical garden where we encountered a new life bird for my list! My first life bird located in North Carolina.
Brown Thrasher, #77
It can be tricky to glimpse a Brown Thrasher in a tangled mass of shrubbery, and once you do you may wonder how such a boldly patterned, gangly bird could stay so hidden. Brown Thrashers wear a somewhat severe expression thanks to their heavy, slightly downcurved bill and staring yellow eyes, and they are the only thrasher species east of Texas. Brown Thrashers are exuberant singers, with one of the largest repertoires of any North American songbird. ~ All About Birds webpage
Autumn is still peaking here and there are still many touches of summer lingering. I’ve come to the conclusion that fall comes much later here and has a different feeling than New England’s, yet is very pretty in its own way. And it lasts a lot longer, with not all the trees changing at once, or so it seems to me.
Narrowleaf Whitetop Sedge
a fly deftly avoiding the pitcher plant’s pitfall trap
an unopened pitcher plant
Oakleaf Hydrangea
“Octopus” by Mac McCusker 3rd Place ~ Sculpture in the Garden People’s Choice Awards
hemlock needles and cones with autumn color backdrop
Loblolly pine bark provides a nice contrast to golden autumn hues…
The challenge of life, as I see it, is to find the beauty where we are, in the circumstances we’re in, and to focus not on what’s missing, but on what we have. When we’re awake and present in the moment, not lost in the trance of storylines, we may find that the traffic jam, the office, the crowded shopping mall, the toilet, the temple and the forest are all equally holy, equally worthy of devotion (or loving attention). Everything is sacred. ~ Joan Tollifson (Facebook, December 10, 2021)
what could be more autumn-y than a mum?
Here’s to finding the beauty where we are and to finding new birds and to sharing experiences with friends.
Labor Day weekend with autumn weather! I didn’t think it was possible. We couldn’t resist taking a morning walk in the woods in spite of mosquito and poison ivy threats. I’ve been waiting impatiently for this kind of day all summer.
American burnweed
To include nature in our stories is to return to an older form of human awareness in which nature is not scenery, not a warehouse of natural resources, not real estate, not a possession, but a continuation of community. ~ Barry Lopez (High Country News, September 14, 1998)
smaller bug with bee on goldenrod
As I’ve often said, I love the sunlight this time of year, in the months surrounding the equinoxes. It seems just right, not too dim nor too bright, and it immerses everything I see in a wonderful presence. Sometimes my camera even catches it the way I perceive it.
Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are “patches of Godlight” in the woods of our experience. ~ C. S. Lewis (Not a Tame Lion: The Spiritual Legacy of C. S. Lewis & The Chronicles of Narnia)
waterfall in Fort Hill Brook
daddy-longlegs on the top trunk of a tree, snapped off during Hurricane Henri
Impermanence and fragility are essential components of beauty, and of love. In some mysterious way, we are all here together, one whole happening, awake to the sorrow, the joy, and the inconceivability of every fresh and instantly vanishing moment, each of us a bright light in the dazzling darkness. ~ Joan Tollifson (Facebook, February 24, 2021)
“Bergaporten (The Entrance in the Mountain)” by John Bauer (a guardian of family treasures?)
The real continuity, what we truly love and cherish, is not confined in the forms. And perhaps there is something infinitely freeing in letting all these relics go. Perhaps holding onto our family treasures is actually painful. Because we know deep down that we are holding onto dust. We are clinging to nothing at all. And yet, at the same time, it is beautiful to have things in my life now that were there in my childhood, things my mother and father cherished and touched, things they found beautiful. … Sometimes people feel obligated to keep family treasures that they don’t actually want. My mother was great that way. She told me repeatedly, “These are my things, from my journey, and you don’t need to keep any of them you don’t want.” ~ Joan Tollifson (Death: The End of Self-Improvement)
Self-improvement is rigid and perfectionistic, driven by beliefs, expectations and old answers, while genuine transformation is flexible, open to new discoveries and rooted in not-knowing. Genuine transformation listens for what life itself wants, while self-improvement imagines that “I” know how everything “should” be. Self-improvement is judgmental, self-righteous and narrow-minded, while happiness and real change are the release of all that. ~ Joan Tollifson (Death: The End of Self-Improvement)
It was probably inevitable, but we have just learned we now have a positive COVID-19 case in our condo complex. The news sent a chill down my spine. No doubt Dr. Fauci is right, we best prepare to hunker down for the fall and winter.
And this means that time is a mystery, and not even a thing, and no one has ever solved the puzzle of what time is, exactly. And so, if you get lost in time it is like being lost in a desert, except that you can’t see the desert because it is not a thing. … And this is why I like timetables, because they make sure you don’t get lost in time. ~ Mark Haddon (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time)
For me, this might be why I like (need?) clocks. Getting lost in time for me is more like being lost at sea. (I’ve sailed across the ocean but I’ve never seen a desert.)
I hadn’t thought much about it before I read this book, but I have a clock in every room of my house. Clocks were one of the few moorings I had at school when I was growing up. The bell always rang at the right time. A difficult class could only last until the appointed time. Thinking about all this also brought up a fond memory.
Many years ago, long before I knew anything about autism, and long before there were cell phones, we were visiting Tim’s aunt and subconsciously I was looking, one room after another, for a clock, feeling very anxious. At some point it sunk in that I wasn’t going to find one and before I could check my tongue I blurted out, “you don’t have any clocks!”
Tim’s aunt said she guessed that was true, and a few minutes later she kindly brought me a watch to keep with me for the day. That’s one thing I love about her, she accepts my quirks and does what she can to make me feel welcome and comfortable anyway. ♡
It was almost three years ago when I found out that I was on the autism spectrum and thought that I would blog about it a lot more than I have. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been observing my interactions with the neurotypical world and sorting through memories with new understanding. It’s been a journey of discovery, fascinating but difficult to articulate, probably because of my brain thinking mostly in pictures.
I prefer analog clocks to digital ones. When I see the numbers on a digital clock my brain translates them to the clock pictured in my mind. And it takes a bit of time.
I enjoyed The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a mystery novel written from the viewpoint of a teenage boy with autism. The author doesn’t have autism so it’s amazing that he can describe the train of thoughts running through the brain of an autistic person. I read the book in one day! It was so easy to picture everything he was talking about.
I dislike feeling unmoored and lost in time, simply because there is no clock around to anchor me. But then I remember, our brains are as mysterious as time, and oftentimes anxiety happens.
Being awake. Resting in the happening of this moment, exactly as it is. Relaxing the need to understand or to make things different than they are. Opening the heart. Just this — right here, right now. ~ Joan Tollifson (Resting in the Happening of this Moment)
4.8.18 ~ Sandhills Horticultural Gardens, Pinehurst, North Carolina
Spirituality is life itself. Being life. Being this moment. Not as a practice or an attainment or something an imaginary person does in order to get somewhere else, but just because it’s What Is. It’s the natural state, the ever-present, ever-changing thusness of Here / Now. The part that falls away (if we’re lucky) is the search, the endless search to “get it,” to become “okay” at last… the belief in (and identity as) the psychological self and its problems and the endless attempts to cure them. … As I see it, there is no end to awakening, no end to spiritual exploration and discovery, no end to devotion and celebration and wonder… but what can end (and only now) is the search to fix “me,” to unstick “me,” to enlighten “me,” to finally get control (by understanding how the universe works, by getting The Answer, by finally vanquishing all “my” neurotic quirks and tendencies and solving “my” problems). When all of that ends, there is simply this moment, as it is. Boundless and free. ~ Joan Tollifson (Facebook, July 18, 2017)
In October my sister and I spent a couple of nights at the Nauset Knoll Motor Lodge in Orleans on Cape Cod. The big draw was that the motel had a short path to Nauset Beach, a ten mile stretch of seashore facing the open Atlantic. We could hear the waves from our motel room. Pure joy!
eternity
Wildlife sightings: from the road we saw wild turkeys and a coyote; hopping across our path to the beach we saw a bunny; and at the beach we saw gulls of course, and a little plover running along the water’s edge, and a seal bobbing in the waves.
parallax
One afternoon we spent two hours meandering on the beach. Nothing but sand, sea and sky as far as our eyes could see. Beverly, the geologist, was collecting stones, and I was taking pictures. And contemplating the universe, the oneness of all things.
Being awake. Resting in the happening of this moment, exactly as it is. Relaxing the need to understand or to make things different than they are. Opening the heart. Just this — right here, right now. ~ Joan Tollifson (Resting in the Happening of this Moment)
posing
infinity
We already have everything we need. There is no need for self-improvement. All these trips that we lay on ourselves — the heavy-duty fearing that we’re bad and hoping that we’re good, the identities that we so dearly cling to, the rage, the jealousy and the addictions of all kinds — never touch our basic wealth. They are like clouds that temporarily block the sun. But all the time our warmth and brilliance are right here. This is who we really are. We are one blink of an eye away from being fully awake. ~ Pema Chödrön (Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living)
yawning (no sound)
dune grass
Few places on the earth possess a nature so powerful and so unspoiled that it would remind anyone living in a concrete world that he once belonged to a pre-industrial civilization. ~ Liv Ullmann (Changing)
adolescent gull
ebb and flow
a young gull
sandscape
weather worn
windswept
It was windy and chilly and we were bundled up well. I even wore my mittens when I was not taking pictures. But eventually it was time to go back to our room and get ready for dinner. So back up the path to the motel. Our window was the one on the right in the white section of the building. There are only 12 rooms. A quiet, beautiful, windswept place to stay.
view of our room from the path leading to the beach Nauset Knoll Motor Lodge, Orleans, Massachusetts
view from our room, a hill with a path through the brambles, the parking lot and the beach are between the lawn and the water