Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts

Friday, September 4, 2009

The Moon, the Fog, the Light ... and Leaving for the Coast!

Don't know about you, but it just feels like fall is quickly approaching. Yesterday, while driving home from work, I noticed the quality of the afternoon sun seemed different; it had that slant you get in late fall, and just the way the rays played on the trees and grass reminded me of fall.

On my walk this morning, the moon was ENOURMOUS, and a thin layer of fog hugged the ground throughout the park. Plus, the morning air is already cooler. Yep, fall is on its way.

To the Coast or Bust!
Tomorrow morning, I'm packing up the pick-up and heading to the coast. A friend has a house there, and I SO need to get outta this town! Maybe I'll find a good Labor Day Sale on some pots and pans! Plus, we'll get to take in the beach and hopefully some outdoor music with a beer. Sounds good, right?

Hope you all have a great weekend. Cheers! Hmmm, maybe I'll meet this fellow out by the fishing pier...

The Moon, the Fog, the Light ... and Leaving for the Coast!

Don't know about you, but it just feels like fall is quickly approaching. Yesterday, while driving home from work, I noticed the quality of the afternoon sun seemed different; it had that slant you get in late fall, and just the way the rays played on the trees and grass reminded me of fall.

On my walk this morning, the moon was ENOURMOUS, and a thin layer of fog hugged the ground throughout the park. Plus, the morning air is already cooler. Yep, fall is on its way.

To the Coast or Bust!
Tomorrow morning, I'm packing up the pick-up and heading to the coast. A friend has a house there, and I SO need to get outta this town! Maybe I'll find a good Labor Day Sale on some pots and pans! Plus, we'll get to take in the beach and hopefully some outdoor music with a beer. Sounds good, right?

Hope you all have a great weekend. Cheers! Hmmm, maybe I'll meet this fellow out by the fishing pier...

Thursday, December 4, 2008

The Winter of Our Collective Discontent?

Do you ever find yourself anticipating big trends or find yourself caught up in an emotional current that feels much larger than puny little you? I often have but never gave much thought as to why. But given my new spiritual direction, I'm paying more attention to these kinds of things, to what might be called instinct or even premonitions (although that sounds crazy, right?).

Here are some pics I took last Friday on a walk through the Grove. I walked farther and deeper than ever. My first impression was of how quickly the brilliant fall colors had faded to a monochromatic brownish gray. Sometimes it was difficult to even see the footpaths. The leaf-covered ground seemed to blend with the tree trunks, bare branches and woodsy thickets.

As I walked, melancholy descended and enveloped me, which is usually just the opposite of what happens when I'm out in nature. Typically, any melancholy disappears. But not this time.

Later that day and weekend, my mood deepened and intensified. Rather than try and shake the mood, I began paying more attention. What bubbled up was "suffering." I began to see it everywhere: in the news out of Haiti, India, Thailand and elsewhere; in reports about local charities unable to help the needy; in emails I received from friends asking for prayers and support for their friends, family and neighbors; in the death of a friend's favorite aunt from ALS; in the permanent changes I see in my partner because of his stoke; in another friend's terminal brain cancer; in the financial struggles of my cousin, my sister and brother; in the ongoing job losses in this country.

On and on it goes. And while these kinds of things happen all the time, it does seem particularly concentrated at the moment. There's physical suffering, lots of unexpected fear and insecurity, and great spiritual hunger. I don't know if any of you are experiencing these same emotions, but it's really sapping my own strength. Is it just good ol' "seasonal affective disorder?"

Some say that shamans are sensitive to such collective currents, and I think our country is obviously entering a new phase of sorts. Now, I hesitate to claim to "know" anything or to overstate my shamanic experiences or knowledge. But something's going on. I could feel it a few weeks back with Obama's election, and I think many others did, too. I felt it again with the rising anger and frustration in the LGBT community over Prop 8's passage in California. And I felt it this past weekend on my walk.

Just wanted to share this. I need to meditate on it and perhaps conduct a shamanic journey to see what I might learn from these emotions, this experience. In the meantime, I wish each and every one of you peace, contentment and strength.

The Winter of Our Collective Discontent?

Do you ever find yourself anticipating big trends or find yourself caught up in an emotional current that feels much larger than puny little you? I often have but never gave much thought as to why. But given my new spiritual direction, I'm paying more attention to these kinds of things, to what might be called instinct or even premonitions (although that sounds crazy, right?).

Here are some pics I took last Friday on a walk through the Grove. I walked farther and deeper than ever. My first impression was of how quickly the brilliant fall colors had faded to a monochromatic brownish gray. Sometimes it was difficult to even see the footpaths. The leaf-covered ground seemed to blend with the tree trunks, bare branches and woodsy thickets.

As I walked, melancholy descended and enveloped me, which is usually just the opposite of what happens when I'm out in nature. Typically, any melancholy disappears. But not this time.

Later that day and weekend, my mood deepened and intensified. Rather than try and shake the mood, I began paying more attention. What bubbled up was "suffering." I began to see it everywhere: in the news out of Haiti, India, Thailand and elsewhere; in reports about local charities unable to help the needy; in emails I received from friends asking for prayers and support for their friends, family and neighbors; in the death of a friend's favorite aunt from ALS; in the permanent changes I see in my partner because of his stoke; in another friend's terminal brain cancer; in the financial struggles of my cousin, my sister and brother; in the ongoing job losses in this country.

On and on it goes. And while these kinds of things happen all the time, it does seem particularly concentrated at the moment. There's physical suffering, lots of unexpected fear and insecurity, and great spiritual hunger. I don't know if any of you are experiencing these same emotions, but it's really sapping my own strength. Is it just good ol' "seasonal affective disorder?"

Some say that shamans are sensitive to such collective currents, and I think our country is obviously entering a new phase of sorts. Now, I hesitate to claim to "know" anything or to overstate my shamanic experiences or knowledge. But something's going on. I could feel it a few weeks back with Obama's election, and I think many others did, too. I felt it again with the rising anger and frustration in the LGBT community over Prop 8's passage in California. And I felt it this past weekend on my walk.

Just wanted to share this. I need to meditate on it and perhaps conduct a shamanic journey to see what I might learn from these emotions, this experience. In the meantime, I wish each and every one of you peace, contentment and strength.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Couldn't Help Myself--The Last of the Fall Color

The Grove was just beautiful earlier this month as the leaves changed colors. I took so many photos, and I've only shared a tiny selection here. So here are 2 more that I thought were particularly entrancing. The first was taken at one of my favorite resting spots along the southeast side of the lake. The second is just a spot on a trail way over on the other side of the lake.

All this color is gone now, of course. I went walking yesterday and took new photos, and I'll post those next.

Couldn't Help Myself--The Last of the Fall Color

The Grove was just beautiful earlier this month as the leaves changed colors. I took so many photos, and I've only shared a tiny selection here. So here are 2 more that I thought were particularly entrancing. The first was taken at one of my favorite resting spots along the southeast side of the lake. The second is just a spot on a trail way over on the other side of the lake.

All this color is gone now, of course. I went walking yesterday and took new photos, and I'll post those next.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Nature Is Such a Showoff

Fall foliage is at its peak in the Grove! Here are just a few pics I took over the weekend, and I plan to post more over the next week or so.

Get out there and enjoy the show!



Nature Is Such a Showoff

Fall foliage is at its peak in the Grove! Here are just a few pics I took over the weekend, and I plan to post more over the next week or so.

Get out there and enjoy the show!



Sunday, October 5, 2008

Reflections on a Cool, Autumn Morning

Slivers of grass beaded with mini dew drops,
Which, from afar, fool the eye with feathery whiteness.

Sunlight glinting off the water's surface and filtering through leaves,
turning them lemony yellow, chartreuse.

New discovery: a red, star-shaped and scaly pod reveals its orange fruit,
a bird's snack or the beginning of some mighty tree.

Mist silently rolls across a lake,

The woodpecker drills rat-a-tat-tat for her meal.

Otherwordly fungi, some umbrella-like, some as fingers
reaching up from the moist earth.

White wildflower, smaller than a pencil eraser, precisely dotted with yellow.

My prodigal sons and daughters, hear us, see us!
Leave your self-contained towers, your digital distractions,
Surrender your forgetful and broken hearts.

Hear us, see us! Lay down those illusions of your own design.
Be filled to bursting--and remember.

Reflections on a Cool, Autumn Morning

Slivers of grass beaded with mini dew drops,
Which, from afar, fool the eye with feathery whiteness.

Sunlight glinting off the water's surface and filtering through leaves,
turning them lemony yellow, chartreuse.

New discovery: a red, star-shaped and scaly pod reveals its orange fruit,
a bird's snack or the beginning of some mighty tree.

Mist silently rolls across a lake,

The woodpecker drills rat-a-tat-tat for her meal.

Otherwordly fungi, some umbrella-like, some as fingers
reaching up from the moist earth.

White wildflower, smaller than a pencil eraser, precisely dotted with yellow.

My prodigal sons and daughters, hear us, see us!
Leave your self-contained towers, your digital distractions,
Surrender your forgetful and broken hearts.

Hear us, see us! Lay down those illusions of your own design.
Be filled to bursting--and remember.