Heart Song

(Berkeley Hills Summer 1975 Revisited)

Three are on this hill
surrounded by hills
wind moans soft
wrapping them in warmth
above
four ravens dance
in endless blue sky
below
sacred land dips
in slow fading ripples...
one sleeps
under blanket of tree
one dreams
open eyed and cross legged
one sings
wrapped by wind...
gentle power joins them
in their aloneness
their spirits sway in fullness
not often felt...anymore
wind moans softly
wraps them in warmth
echoes silent prayers
silent thanks for life

Commuter Musings

Among the many advantages of living in the mountains is that the trek to work, or to "the city," is by no means the regular "commute" that one normally thinks of. Rather, the drive indulges me with views of the snowcapped Continental Divide...a glimpse of the elk or deer, fox or coyote...or rare mountain lion...which call this area home, and a chance to watch eagles, hawks, falcons and ravens gliding, dancing and soaring as they go about their own daily activities uninterrupted by man.
Of particular pleasure has been the chance to observe the yearly return and departure cycle of a pair of bald eagles and their offspring who, about 6 years ago, picked the perfect locale for their yearly summer sojourn...a lakeside perch atop a pole, complete with mountain views, an abundant forest, and plenty of fish and other delicacies for their enjoyment. It's a spot I definitely would have picked to raise my children in...
Every April, the eagles return. This year they seemed to arrive a little earlier than usual - perhaps having missed the beauty and calm of their summer home. I have come to rely on this yearly cycle and am always amazed at how quickly time passes between their departure in the fall and their return. When their heads first become visible within their massive nest, it speaks that snowmelt and spring are just around the bend. Last year, shortly after their return, a huge plastic bag was visible billowing from the front of the nest. The irony of this image was quite apparent...plastic - on top of man's list of environmentally polluting wastes, being used by the most sacred of creation's creatures to complement its home, perhaps providing an experimental waterproof base... and soon set my mind wandering off in one of its favorite activities...the internal debate. Yes, the eagle's adaptability to the use of modern "resources" seemed a natural progression and maybe even a good thing...but was the blistering Colorado sun releasing the carcinogens from the plastic into the nest...endangering this generation of eaglets?
Other parts of my drive down and through the mountain also present a chance to cautiously engage in and out of this mental meandering. This two lane "highway" for example with its beautiful views, gushing mountain stream on one side and massive rock formations on the other dwarfing the car and its occupants...is seemingly peaceful on most occasions...little traffic and no "jams" to deal with...only the rare, "irate" driver or potential "road rage" incident to contend with.... If one looks carefully enough it is easy to transport back into time and see moccasined feet, horses with travoises, and early wagons arduously journeying the same "road" up and down the canyon. Underlying the beauty and the calm, however, is the knowledge that for many this journey has been the last...untold numbers have been claimed by the stream from underestimate the force and power of its waters, by the the rocks as they attempt to climb the massive boulders lining the canyon or due to the rockslides, and by the road, the curves of which are so dangerous to the unsuspecting driving at too high speeds. In my 24 years alone of driving up and down these canyons, I have witnessed untold numbers of cars crashed into the unforgiving waters of the seemingly harmless stream; I have seen the canyon raging with fire; I have watched a propane truck lose its brakes and fly across the narrow stream, coming to an explosive rest on the other side of the bank...setting its driver's spirit free and the waters on fire...
These events are my constant reminders of the duality in life...and that there's usually more to a situation or a place than is seen on the surface. Although seeing the "bad" along with the good has often brought me the label of "pessimist" I prefer to think that it's simply a matter of seeing things realistically, not negatively... and of always being informed, ready and prepared to choose or deal with the turn of events which inevitably balance our lives...

Hidden Knowledge

Once upon a time
in a time of power passed
come three solemn women
of graceful manner...
gentle faces sunbrowned and radiant
hair long and black
clothed in white ancestral cloth...
I turn to them silently
sensing...knowing...they are here
to start my journey back
to remembrance...of our ways
As I follow them out of the dream
I wake...renewed with hidden knowledge
and a lifetime for the search..................................

Following Great Grandfather

Weary... I close my eyes...and see...a gift
given to me long ago...a lifetime ago...
a dream where there is a road
a long road running next to me
hundreds of relatives from redbrown nations
following great grandfather walking
beautiful relatives of all sizes and ages
..walking the road
...dancing the road
....winding towards the center
I stop what I am doing and join them
take great grandfather's hand
feel my heart lifting
my spirit laughing as I
..walk the road
...dance the road
....winding with my relatives
straight to the center

In This Dream...

In this dream which I cannot forget I am
back in time with my ancestors standing
on the shore of my homeland
my second born by my side
To the north I see the sailed ships landing
the tall ships come to our Land of Craggy Mountains
to change our destiny...our road...forever
"Look" I say to my son that is all I can speak
for inside...my heart is sinking remembering
premonitions told by the old ones of those
who would come one day to spill our blood
upon our sacred land into our healing sea.
As I wake there are tears of sadness and fear
for I know what follows...the lifemare
just beginning for my people
I have heard it claimed by those who know nothing
that we saw them as gods these men who came trampling
through our seas onto our home into our mountains
swords in hand accompanied by dogs
sacred deities of our foreparents
guardians of our afterlife used against us
to tear...our flesh...into submission
My people hand carvers of dugouts which carried
a hundred of us across the sea
to trade to visit to share with our relatives
willinging gave the strange ones
respect and hospitality due no...not gods...
but builders of ships of billowing sails
recognizing the time the knowledge needed
to build vessels of wood large enough to carry
hundreds of strangers scores of strangers
come far away searching for gold killing for gold
precious gift from the earth sacred charge of the creator
I had often wondered on their lust for this ore
which...perhaps..even they did not understand
why it drove them to plunder
why it pushed them to massacre
why it made them insane
till they had it in hand stole the earth which held it
Then one day while reading their book of creation
in front of my eyes unbelieving that four letter word
rolling spewing from its pages over and over
words of desire obsessed with gold addicted to gold
telling them to search to search
above all for the gold of this earth
Their book of direction instructing them
possess at any cost that which is not yours
drive out at all cost those who are not you
destroy their sacred objects and hallowed places
As I read more and more the words giving them
dominion to subdue...all..on..earth
as I learn of their crafts fallen on our sacred caretaker
crazy thoughts begin to form did it power their ships
stranded on our blessed home
did they need the gold for their journey back
then forgetting their reason while burying their memory
did they lose themselves in the search
become jealous wanderers
looking for a forgotten purpose
searching for any home...

Sharing a home

Living in the mountains, one has to learn how to occasionally ...share home...with the myriad creatures which may venture in for a visit. One time it was a chipmunk who came running in through the open front door and soon found itself lost and trapped in the maze of insideness and furniture...the first (and so far the last) of his kind to come into this uncharted territory. When we finally found him, hours later, and liberated him from the trauma he had just gone thru...which I'll spare you the details of here...I'm sure he went straight home and told his relatives all about his strange adventure and warned them...loudly and sternly...to stay far far away from that crazy place from which he almost never returned. Another time a packrat inhabited the attic for a stay. We didn't know what was happening at the time, except that small things around the house would mysteriously and inexplicably disappear...a spoon from here...a spool of thread from there...One day the poor creature made the unfortunate mistake of coming down from its hiding place...right in front of the dog........needless to say....it wasn't pretty......Having never seen such an animal before, its identity remained unknown until, searching around, we found its "nest"...with all of our missing items and more...aahhh we thought...a packrat...how true to their name! There was also the bat that my son...just a youngster at the time... almost put his hand on while turning on the bathroom light. That one was quite the challenge to remove. Until then, I didn't even know that bats lived in the area...
Summer brings the crickets and the ants...not to mention the spiders - among the more famous the black widow and the brown recluse - and the occasional field mouse which, I'm convinced, has a 'cat radar' alerting it to stay away or else... I try to respect the life of these creatures as much as possible - especially since... so far...none have harmed any of my family - by putting them outside or relocating them to a plant or just ignoring them if they're not in groups...realizing that this was their home first...and that we are the intruders upon these mountains. Must admit that it's not a totally unselfish gesture..when, for example, I scoop the spider from the bathtub to prevent it from being flooded by the shower I always think that maybe one day my kind gesture will be remembered by that which has the power and inclination to scoop me or my loved ones out of the way of impending disaster... Also can't help but make a mental analogy to the disasters we humans are victims of every time I "move dirt" or move a log and see scores of ants or beetles, etc. scrambling around to deal with the human disaster which has been inflicted on their "communities". Watching their frantic movements gives one a microscopic view of our life...and its connection to all life...and what we must look like to the creator or other higher powers as we scramble around to rebuild our lives after experiencing catastrophic disruptions of our "normal" day to day life. It's also a solid reminder that usually the disasters we're subjected to...just happen...without rightness or wrongness or purposeful intent to harm...and that we humans have an infinite capacity to overcome challenges and hardships and recover...just like our fellow creature inhabitants of this amazing Earth...

The Art of Being Martial

From an ancient time and an ancient land
comes the knowledge
the warrior has made a part of being
for a time such as this
when peace is absent and
rationale has failed...
the use of the body
as a weapon or a shield
ready to receive or deliver
the required impact
limb to limb
muscle to muscle
breath to breath
without hate...without malice
with only calmness in knowing
that even the Earth...gentle mother...
will flex her muscles
once in a while...
when she has had enough
of the aggressors' transgressions
and there is...really...no other way
for a warrior to stop them
except to
devoid the mind and make it ready
relax the body to make it wait
for the instant to...
store breath
release breath...and
unleash
the art of being martial
passed down
through generations of ancestors
for this moment
which can only unfold...this way

To Capture a Moment

Photographs have always fascinated me, especially portraits...how you can stop time... freeze a look... and keep that person or moment suspended forever. Of major influence in my life were the photographs of Edward Curtis and of those who have been called "concerned photographers" - Robert Capa, André Kertesz, Werner Bischof, among others. Eugene Smith's powerful and disturbing documentation of the tragedy and genocide which mercury poisoning visited upon the people of Minimata, Japan can not easily be forgotten; his efforts brought world wide attention to the actions of the polluters who had ravaged the bodies and minds of the victims and had destroyed their communities and way of life. It also brought the people of Minimata together with the Ojibway people of Grassy Narrows, Ontario, who were just beginning to face the same devastating health and life issues from mercury having been discharged into their waterways by companies unconcerned with the value of human life.
The photographs which we as individuals "snap" are usually, but not always, less dramatic. Comes to mind a picture my daughter took a couple of years ago while photographing a mountain fire. The moment captured shows a "slurry bomber" dropping its load on the smoke-filled mountain. Dramatic enough until one is told that the plane went down...into the mountain...seconds later.
All photographs though can be equally as powerful and thought provoking. Yesterday, while searching for something else, I came upon a notebook with some photographs - portraits - I'd taken long ago as a student in Toronto. I stop to look at them, momentarily distracted from the task at hand, and see faces I haven't gazed upon in decades. Truthfully, some I haven't thought about over the years, but the others...those I often wonder about...how their life has unfolded...even whether they're still here among the living...look back at me frozen in the time of our youth....and for a moment, it seems impossible that all these years have gone by.
As I look upon their faces, I can feel them as they were...see the way their eyes twinkled or saddened, how their faces moved as they spoke, and their mouths broke into rivers of laughter or became silent on reflection...as I look upon their faces I remember who they were...the tone and expression of their voices...the goodness in their manner...the carefreeness that we were fortunate enough to be able to enjoy at that particular time in our lives...before we all left that reality behind and moved on. As I look upon their faces I give thanks for the people I have known who have blessed my life with theirs...and have helped it be a life filled with captured moments.

A Matter of Timing

The directions life takes for each of us seem to be guided mostly by a matter of timing. Often, an event which offers itself before or after the "right" time in one's life is one which is not likely to occur or be taken up on. Still, something which does not occur at one point in our life may, if we're lucky, be shown to us or return at another point to be a perfect "fit." This adventure of blogging...comes at such a time. It was suggested to me by an extremely eloquent musician, writer and artist...a blogger himself...whose beautiful and varied works speak to the good and humane in all of us...who unselfishly pointed to a path unknown to me, at the most appropriate moment in this life.
Often, I have noticed, timing also determines how a few minutes or even a few seconds can forever alter or shift our life...changing our destiny...and our destinations. Many among us no doubt have had the "close call" which brought us just about to the brink whereby our body and spirit would be parting. In my case, there have been several, but the most notable...the one that saw a speeding car...red to match the light it had just burned...blur in front of the exact spot my car would be in in about 2 seconds...perhaps the 2 seconds I hesitated before putting my foot to the pedal...when the light turned green............Every once in a while too I think of the story I read many years ago about the woman who was walking down a New York City street when a piece of the skyscaper's construction fell, slamming directly into her. Now that's what you call bad timing...if only she'd been running a few minutes late...or is it a few minutes early...........but, surely it was her time cause what are the odds...
Timing also seems to have a hand in shaping relationships we have...or don't have...with others. Have you ever met a person you feel a connection to...someone you feel you've known before...and that you'd like to know again. For some reason though the fit's not right; whatever's happening in their life or yours does not allow it. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. If we learn to trust in the rightness of timing, and don't push it or try to go against it...instead we can seek to measure the pulse of time for the opening which may bring that person back into our life at at time that is ripe...for both. Perhaps if we fine tune the heart and mind to feel, listen for, hear and sync with time's cues of when to do and when to refrain...
you know...the mysterious feeling which compels us to linger a few seconds longer or speed up our actions...
the nagging thought that drives us to or from a particular place for no particular reason that we can rationalize...
the psychicness which occasionally manifests that we can't dismiss or get out of our mind until we follow its direction...
they will guide us to our place in the scheme of time whether it's to propel us along on our own journey or so that we may be there just in time to help someone else's...