Prowling his own quiet backyard or asleep by the fire, he is still only a whisker away from the wilds.
~ Jean Burden
(Every Cat Has A Story)
Welcome Spring!
a whisker away
something that reflects you
by William-Adolphe Bouguereau
If we’re lucky, we feel our lives,
Know when the next scene arrives,
So often we start in the middle and work our way out…
…If you’re lucky you find something that reflects you,
Helps you feel your life, protects you,
Cradles you and connects you to everything.
~ Dar Williams
♫ (The Hudson) ♫
graceful surrender
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
~ Max Ehrmann
(Desiderata)
childhood hero
Happy 90th Birthday, Dad!
One of my dad’s earliest and very special memories was of sitting on his father’s shoulders, watching a New York City ticker tape parade in honor of Charles Lindbergh, who had returned from his historic solo transatlantic flight. Dad was five years old that day, June 13, 1927, and he and his father were among the estimated 3 to 4 million people lined up along Fifth Avenue from Battery Park to Central Park. The New York Times wrote “Never was America prouder of a son.” What a thrill it was for a little fellow to catch a glimpse of his hero!
Today Dad turns 90 and I thought I could honor this milestone with some words from the autobiography written by his childhood hero. I gave Dad a copy of The Spirit of St. Louis a few years ago, and I know he read some of it, even while protesting that he disliked reading. He was never much of a reader – he said all the reading he had to do in college turned him off to it. But he loved to discuss the meanings of words and we both enjoyed looking things up in the dictionary and encyclopedia. Now that he is confined to a wheelchair we do find him reading the books we offer to him from time to time.
For unmeasurable periods, I seem divorced from my body, as though I were an awareness spreading out through space, over the earth and into the heavens, unhampered by time or substance, free from the gravitation that binds to heavy human problems of the world. My body requires no attention. It’s not hungry. It’s neither warm or cold. It’s resigned to being left undisturbed. Why have I troubled to bring it here? I might better have left it back at Long Island or St. Louis, while the weightless element that has lived within it flashes through the skies and views the planet. This essential consciousness needs no body for its travels. It needs no plane, no engine, no instruments, only the release from flesh which circumstances I’ve gone through make possible.
Then what am I – the body substance which I can see with my eyes and feel with my hands? Or am I this realization, this greater understanding which dwells within it, yet expands through the universe outside; a part of all existence, powerless but without need for power; immersed in solitude, yet in contact with all creation? There are moments when the two appear inseparable, and others when they could be cut apart by the merest flash of light.
While my hand is on the stick, my feet on the rudder, and my eyes on the compass, this consciousness, like a winged messenger, goes out to visit the waves below, testing the warmth of water, the speed of wind, the thickness of intervening clouds. It goes north to the glacial coasts of Greenland, over the horizon to the edge of dawn, ahead to Ireland, England, and the continent of Europe, away through space to the moon and stars, always returning, unwillingly, to the mortal duty of seeing that the limbs and muscles have attended their routine while it was gone.
~ Charles A. Lindbergh
(The Spirit of St. Louis)
privileged moments
The inapprehensible motion of life escapes our daily awareness, as does the tune of the cosmic dust that orders us all in one great dance of life. We do not hear it playing until we come to a point where our ordinary and subtle senses are aligned together. Then we come into harmony and awareness of both worlds at once, the apparent and the unseen worlds in conscious communion within us. These privileged moments cannot be sought; they come unbidden, surprising us into mystical vision. It may be that when we interrupt a walk on a high place at evening to admire the view, we apprehend the revolution of the earth as a physical motion beneath our feet; it may be that we become aware of a rhythm that weaves about the steady beating of our own heart as if it were a partner in a dance. … The resonances to which we respond and the relationship between ourselves and the music of life give us the only clues available about the nature of the invisible partner – clues reassuring enough that we can trust the source of our music.
~ Caitlín Matthews
(The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year)
brush fire
Last weekend we took a short walk on the Poquonnock River Walkway because we had heard on the news that there had been a brush fire. Fortunately the fire broke out behind the Poquonnock Bridge Firehouse, but it ignited several patches of brush along the walkway before the firemen got the flames under control. Everything is so wet there it is hard to imagine how the fire might have started.
There were many birds busy in the reeds and trees lining the walkway.
It’s disheartening to see all the illegally discarded garbage exposed by the fire. Wish I knew why some people cannot make the effort to dispose of their waste materials properly at the “transfer station.” When I was little we called it a “dump” and we took to heart all the public service ads on TV encouraging us not to be litter bugs!
For my sister and me Saturday trips to the dump were fun! Perhaps once or twice a month Dad would load up the back of his pick-up truck with our family’s trash. Beverly and I would then climb into the cab and snuggle up to our papa as closely as we could. This was back before the days of seat belts. The reason we held on tight was that the passenger door would sometimes swing open when the truck turned a corner. (The problem was eventually repaired.) What a thrilling adventure! And the chance to feel the strong arms of our father holding us securely, the chance to feel like precious cargo!
On the way home from the dump we got to ride in the back of the pick-up truck! We begged and pleaded and were sometimes rewarded with a side trip up and back down Route 320, a road with many wonderfully smooth bumps – riding over them would make us feel like we left our stomachs on the truck while our bodies were lifted into the air by some mysterious force for a fraction of a moment. These days I’m sure Dad would be arrested for endangering minors, but for me these were the spicy experiences of my young life!
The whispers of shared ecstasy are choral.
~ George Steiner
(Grammars of Creation)
out of focus
You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
~ Mark Twain
(A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court)
the light is winning
Over lowland, over snow and tundra
span arches, raised by the rising sun.
See: the light is winning!
And the stream is streaming
towards open minds
and towards seeds dreaming
of growth.
~ Einar Skjæraasen
(The Nordic Light)
the barista
This darling little grazing herbivore lives out west, where I have yet to go, and makes her nest inside of a burrow which she digs out for herself. There has been a flurry of activity in our little nest, too. The “new” barista has arrived!
Ever since November when his brother spoiled us by making soy lattes for us every morning, Tim has been on the lookout for an opportunity to purchase a barista secondhand. He finally located a great deal in the city of New York, of all places, and mobilized our daughter, who lives there, into procuring it for him.
Larisa would do anything for her papa and so she made an appointment with the seller and went to pick up the barista and all of its accessories. As she puts it, the buses were not working in her favor that day and she wound up carrying the heavy appliance for ten blocks. When she arrived at the lobby of her six-story walk-up, completely worn out, she called boyfriend Dima to come downstairs and carry it up the stairs for her!
Then it was up to us to plan another expedition to the big city to pick up the barista. This past Saturday turned out to be the best time for all concerned so we rented another car and returned to New York for the second time in the space of a month. But it was a great excuse for another visit and we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon playing a new (to us) card game, Dominion. Dima & Larisa patiently taught us all the rules and by the time we caught on it was time to leave.
The past couple of days our nest has been thrown into a state of disarray as we debated the most logical place to keep this new prized possession. Other small appliances have been moved here and there to make the best use of available outlets and faucets. A shelf unit has come up from the basement to accommodate the slow cooker collection, and a small table that is now too big for the remaining space has been moved out. And of course I couldn’t rest until I redecorated around all these changes…
Perhaps it would be easier to be a bunny and live on a simple diet of sagebrush. But I have to admit, these soy lattes are tasting very good!