The Big Picture

Last week I went on a short hike above the property. It starts as an old dirt logging road and eventually turns into a single path horse trail (and now that I'm here- mountain bike) until topping out at a clear cut. On this day the clouds parted enough to give a good view of the valley in which the land is situated. That day it was a patchwork of gray and green with afew clouds drifting by until the sky became a solid sheet of gray. Our place is hidden in the foreground by the hill, the closest place is the metal roofed barn at the bottom of the image. On the horizon you can see one of the Cascade mountains.

When standing in the upper reaches on this planet I often remember this quote by Rene Daumal from his book, Mount Analogue,
...what is above knows what is below, what is below does not know what is above. While climbing, take note of all the difficulties along your path. During the descent, you will no longer see them, but you will know that they are there if you have observed carefully. There is an art to finding your way in the lower regions by the memory of what you have seen when you were higher up. When you can no longer see, you can at least still know. . .

The higher nooks and crannies of the world used to fill my waking and dreaming world. Fantasies of Himalayan first ascents or Alaskan first descents were close companions. Now my reality is a 600 ft. jaunt from Aisling to the ridgeline (1000 ft above seal level). Without getting above the land, it is hard to put it into perspective. It is so easy to stay in this beautiful valley doing the daily tasks of life without seeing the big picture. The micro-climates on the land are a wonder, but so is the larger landscape. Without a sense of one's place in the larger picture it is so easy to get lost and out-of-touch with the larger world.

Myopia (nearsightedness) is a physiological condition in which distant objects appear blurred. Xenophobia is the fear of others and comes to English from the Greek word for stranger. When we mix myopic tendencies with xenophobia we get a world that is fearful of others. Then, short sightedness is brewed in this milieu and we lose sight of future generations and only become concerned with that which is right in front of us: work, kids, paycheck, fill the car with gas, pay the bills.

There is a concept of protecting the children and the planet out to the Seventh Generation. Native American tribal law even has it written into U.S. law by our Congress in 1980. The common tendency to romanticize aboriginal culture has been with "the West" for a long time. In literature is has a rich 300 year history . However, borrowing certain concepts could have a dramatic impact on our world. The idea of choosing our policies and actions based on its impact on the next seven generations is one of them. What would be different if you, me, and our governments adopted the concept of development that focuses on the seventh generation of the world (not just our country)? How would you change your behavior; your choices? What would happen if we followed the example of Bhutan and enacted a Gross National Happiness measure? What about living our lives attending to the Seventh Generation AND something that uses happiness as a measure rather than economics? It boggles the mind about how this would change our world. If only we could blend the strategic abilities that the Chinese have exhibited through the centuries with 7th Generation and Happiness focus. One person's body of work I was first introduced to in the 80's: Hazel Henderson looks at what a post-economic focus would look like.

As I sit at Aisling on this "Boxing Day" post-Christmas spending spree day, I wonder what I can do today to further promote a world that is more sane. I too notice the desire arise when seeing ads for things I want and see the addictive behavior of consumption. As the flicker drills into the trim on our house and the birds flock to consume food at the feeder, what resolve can I make to impact the world to place my personal desires in perspective? How about you? What is worth doing that will help your children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, pets and wildlife have a more happy world?

Ice, Freezing Rain, and Convenience

We are emerging from the big freeze. There were a couple of days when the temperature was below 10. Three days ago it was 9. That was the day of the big break.

A few nights ago I went outside and heard a rushing water in a place where I shouldn't be hearing it. Rushing toward the sound (concern that one of our pipes had burst) I saw that one of the outdoor faucets on our neighbors pump house was running full bore. After calling them and getting an answering machine there was a dilemma that presented itself. Do I turn it off or is there some reason for them running the water? Since we had to drain our storage tank last winter, it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that they were purging something in the system- even though the temperature was in the teens and night was coming.

Well, it turns out that the horses turned it on. Amazing what horses can do.

Three days ago, I was walking around the property before going to work... to check the water lines. It was dark and, once again, the sound of rushing water filled the air. What clear horses, I thought. It was barely daylight and in that faint light it was clear that it wasn't the horses and the faucet, but water spurting from our well head area. I didn't make it to work Friday as I worked on replacing a broken joint. By the time I finished it was mid-day and the weather report was for freezing rain.

Sure enough, the freezing rain started about 2 p.m. as Susan was finishing her drive home. Saturday, Aisling was covered in a coat of ice. The gravel road was as reflective as an ice cube. Last night there was to be a light parade in Monroe, but it was canceled.

In an urban environment it is so easy to take the infrastructure for granted, not so easy out here. We are on a well and septic system. Something breaks and we need to fix it or find someone to do it. I think it is convenience that is the cause of global warming (if it is something more than climatic cycling). People want convenience of being a comfortable temperature, we want comfortableness of driving from door to door without sweating or getting wet, and there is the desire for the plasma t.v. to watch only those things that appeal to someone's appetite. Conspicuous consumption means that more and more resources need to be extracted and more waste to dispose of.

I think there is a biological aspect to consumption that is an extension of our desire to survive and thrive- to gather or hunt more than one's neighbor. The difference is that we are evolved enough to overcome some of biological dictates. We have the capacity to reason and recognize those things that are helpful and those that are not.

When a waterline breaks or a limb falls on a roof, it is not convenient. There is a strength in being able to respond to adverse circumstances. We weaken ourselves the more and more addicted to comfort we become. It doesn't mean we have to whip ourselves or wear hair shirts, but there is value in being cold, hungry or bored. Pulling upon our own inner resources is our strengths.


Be well.

Invasions

Yesterday, in the waning light of day, I went on a walk around the property with no real intent or purpose other than to stroll. Soon I was in the forest that is on the edge of the creek. The primary trees are ash and oak. Susan had spent many hours this summer clearing some of the blackberries away... and the English Ivy.

Soon I was under the spell of pulling the ivy from climbing the trees. These invasive species easily colonize an area and choke out the existing vegetation. In a couple sections of the land it seems that these two intruders are the dominate species. The Snowberry, Bramble Rose, and fern seem to be retreating from this persistent onslaught. With the intent of returning the land to as many native species as possible, I tear the ivy from its hold as it climbs to the sunlight.

There is something very satisfying about pulling a 10 foot long section of ivy from the ground. At one point I fantasized about hiring high school students and paying them by the foot for harvest these plants. Money would run out before the ivy did. So I continued to pull and follow the roots deep and long.

As the light continued to fade I realized that in pulling up the roots I was disturbing the homes of many creatures that we fail to take into consideration- ones that I don't even know exist. The ants, pill bugs, termites, and the tiny microbes that digest the humus. I'd follow one runner under a fallen branch, through a blackberry thicket and then it would break off.

Now, what's the problem one might ask. Walking through the campuses of higher education it isn't uncommon to see ivy clinging to the brick walls. There is something iconic about these plants clinging to the side of a building; something pretty and pastoral about it. So why do I keep pulling at these plants? What makes something invasive? When does an invasion cease to be an occupation and turn into the normal state of affairs? I guess it is a matter of perspective.

It seems that one of the problems with an invasion or an invasive species is the movement toward domination and submission of that which has been there before. Prior to the invader arriving, there was a balance, and now there is an attempt at subjugation of that which was there before. But where does one draw the line? After all, isn't the spreading of seed, rhizomes, roots, and boundaries a natural imperative?

It boils down to this: I like biodiversity and plants like blackberry and ivy tend to dominate and slowly turn the environment into a monoculture. We plan on pulling out all the ivy... even though it seems to be a sysphian task. (Though we plan on restricting blackberries because the berries are delicious.)


Though, on my computers I have found something destroying the library of my photos. They have become corrupted. I wish it were as easy as pulling ivy to find out what is going on... they say that Macs don't get attacked by viruses. So that means it is an internal invasion... a kind of digital virus. It also means that I have limited photos to post with this entry.

May your lives be free of unwelcome invasions.

Migrations

It has been a couple weeks since I've actually had time to match the pace of the land. Two weeks of leaving in the dark and coming home in the dark. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I look forward to be able to walk the land and see what has happened. Even in the dawning light I can sometimes here the call of migrating geese. Likely they are Canadian Geese. There is a pond just down the road and I have seen around a dozen geese floating. We are only a few miles from the Finley Wildlife Refuge and when we drive along the highway toward Corvallis there are hundreds and hundreds of waterfowl in the morning light. Just a couple miles away, on Dawson Road, I saw that the Great White Egrets were in the fields. Then further down Highway 99 the Tundra Swans flew overhead. These swans winter over here.

Migrations are a part of life and are part of the movement of time. There is a rhythm to life. If we are so busy charging ahead and see life in a straight line then it is easy to miss the migrations of life. It is a movement; a swirling of energy that takes the form of geese, wildebeest, humans, hummingbirds, or tarantulas. Mass movements of creatures in response to the environment: solar and lunar cycles, food or water shifts.

There are other subtler movements that we can pay attention to. One in this part of the country is return of many different creatures that rise vertically and then return to the humus. Mushrooms. There are fanatics in this part of the world. Stories abound about mushroom hunters shooting at each other to protect a spot. The mushrooms we have on the land are not ones that I'd try to eat. Who knows what they are. Some friends and I were hiking in the coast range and found a lot of chantrelle mushrooms. I also saw this Amanita muscaria alongside the trail. This bright red and white mushroom is iridescent in the gray and green hues of the coastal rain forest. I remember the first time I saw one of these on the flanks of Mt. Baker in northern Washington State. Strange how this memory sticks with me. It is a mushroom that is considered poisonous. It has also been used as a psychoactive substance in Siberia and with the nations of SE Alaska.


There are hundreds of mushrooms on the land. They are real small and of all different shapes. The rhizomes penetrate the soil. These tendrils of life make their way through the soil and the fruiting bodies (what we call mushrooms) pop up to the surface. Though the Amanita muscaria is a beauty, it is the dark mushrooms around here that add splashes of white and brown.

Here's praise for the small things of life; the muted tones; and life's simple pleasures.

Bobby, Silent Spring, and Ukranian Almonds

I watched the movie Bobby tonight. I remember staying up late into the night in 1968 wondering if Bobby Kennedy was going to live. As a young teenager it was an overwhelmingly painful moment and it was also the moment that politicized my awareness. Watching the clips again brought tears to my eyes and to hear his speech about violence, well I wonder if we have learned much. Here is a link to contemporary photos along with his historic speech.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_Vll-t0H6A

It did bring so many memories to mind. One of those was the wooden portable bookstore that used to be rolled from classroom to classroom in the sixth grade. It was from one of those shelves that I picked out some of my first books that focused on the degradation of our environment, including Silent Spring by Rachael Carson. Part of the dream I used to have was to live on a piece of property, in the country, where I could take care of it. Through so much of my life there have been variations of that theme: back-to-the-land phase; wilderness man phase; anti-ownership phase... all with a theme of living surrounded by the natural world. In my middle age that dream has come to fruition.

The burning river in Cleveland has become an iconic image of our excesses and ignorance. The stories of DDT killing so many birds became a rallying cry. Our natural environment is much cleaner than it used to be even though now we deal with large scale environmental problems like global warming. We have become much more aware and adapted our lives and thinking. Aisling is mostly clean though in the orchard there are thousands of tiny black plastic pieces.



This week we planted three almond trees, two Asian pears, and two filberts. The almond trees came from a company called One Green World (Mollala, Oregon). They have been authorized by a nursery in the Ukraine to grow these hardy almond trees. We'll see if they produce over the next three years. When Bobby Kennedy was shot the Ukraine was behind the Iron Curtain and locked away from the rest of the world. Now we are buying almonds from them, as well as pears that originally came from Asia. The world has become so much more intertwined in trade, economies, and culture. This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the dismantling of the Berlin Wall... world events that have lead us to having these almonds in our garden.



Prior to watching the movie tonight I was planning on writing about chopping wood and wood fires. Another thing that have a long lineage in my memory. It is like a drip line in a back burn that reaches brightly into the line behind me. There is a pleasure that comes with chopping wood and burning it in a stove. We will have a new stove soon to replace this circa 1980 wood stove... fewer particulates in the air. Maybe another night I'll write about the pleasures of chopping wood. In the Northwest, when wood is piled in the Fall it needs to be covered to keep it from being saturated by rain.

I shall close tonight thinking about those times 40 years ago.

Full Moon and New Plants

Since the time has shifted to "standard time" we are now arriving home in the dark. Right now the nearly full moon is shining through the window. Yesterday was the official full moon and the daytime was brilliant. One of those clear, warm Fall afternoons that is followed by cool and then cold evenings. I have a stack of wood I cut and split that will need to be put under the porch before the rains return later in the week.

This weekend was a planting weekend. I planted some starts that I found at the Homegrown Nursery. It was all they had left: Mesclun salad, Parisian Market Carrots (doubtful they'll grow much) and a bunch of Walla Walla Sweet Onions. My thoughts are: if they grow great, if not... then at least I tried. The kale continues to grow, the brussels sprouts continue to be infested with aphids. I've learned that this is just an indication that they are stressed out for another reason- which is probably that they didn't get enough water earlier in the year. When I dug up the remaining potatoes it was amazing how dry the soil was even after all the rain we had.


The Blue Lake Pole Beans dangle from their vines in shades of green and brown. I've left a number of them to dry in the Fall air partly to see what the shapes and colors are as they go from small green pods to the long, deformed, and darkened colors. The leaves are already shriveled- lets see what happens after a month of winter to these beans. Maybe freeze-dried?





We spent a number of hours getting the bulbs in the ground this weekend. It was probably about a 100 foot long trench we dug and then placed the bulbs in the ground. It will be fun to see the daffys and other flower coming up along the road.


Tonight our tree order showed up. I've never ordered trees that were mailed to me, it was like opening a Christmas package from under the tree.

The Killdeer call in the morning light and the migrating geese are heard. I thought the song of the cranes came up last night too. The Stellar Jays have pretty well cleaned the giant sunflower head of all seeds.

A Fall poem by John Muir:
The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop away from you
like the leaves of Autumn.

After the Rains

It has been raining hard the last few days and the sun was shining bright on the drive home. Then about 5 miles from home the sun disappeared behind the dark gray bank of clouds. Now the half moon is out; a ring is scribed around it and a planet shines next to it. The air is still and cool. There is a fire burning in the wood stove.

We are in the process of buying a new wood stove. This one is a Fisher and is old. Some say the ones with the knobs on front, like ours, are 20-25 years old. They put out a lot of particulates into the air especially compared to the new ones. One site says the old stove we have puts out 50-60 grams/hr. One of the new stoves we are looking at puts out 1.9 grams/hr. Where the older ones might be 20-40% efficient... the new ones are close to 75- 80%. At the same time we will have to pay between $1500- 2000 for one to cover our size house. As much as we want to be environmentally sound it is quite a price to shell out. We looked at solar. It actually pays out over time, but it is the initial cash outlay that's daunting. More dilemmas. I know we will wind up buying a new stove because we both love wood fires and the radiant heat. Plus, when I walk outside on a night like tonight the air is cool and tinted with the smell of wood smoke.

On a walk around the property the other day I noticed the little pond in the creek has water in it and as I was walking along the path I watched a stick move all on its own. There is a Buddhist story about a man walking along a path in the dusk and seeing a snake. The man got scared and tried to think of all different ways to get around the snake. Seeing that there was no other way, he crept slowly up to it and around it. When he was really close he saw that it was a stick. Our minds see what they anticipate seeing. For me that moving stick soon turned into a Rough Skinned Newt (T. granulosa).



This amphibian has a toxin that deters predation. They say that 1/30th of the toxin in a skin of these newts is enough to kill a healthy human adult... but it has to be ingested. Maybe they should carry a warning like McDonalds coffee: Do not swallow this amphibian it may be hazardous to your health. Some people do react to touch and contract a little dermatitis. Probably more likely is the newt is damaged from handling from a human. The oils on our hands can damage their coating. The only known predator are toxin-resistant garter snakes.


The paper birch leaves are scattered on the ground and soon they will all be gone. It is the time of hibernation as the colors fade into the soil and the land is sketched in shades of brown, gray, and green. For now the spots of yellow leaves are pretty.

Is there greed in nature?

This light graced the morning just above the hamlet of Bellfountain on Dawson Road.

Here are some images of Autumn on the land.





Does greed exist in nature? There is violence as evidenced by feathers strewn across the grass. Competitive advantage is seen in the blackberries reaching from the forest into the open field, the dominant turkeys chasing the weaker birds away from the flock, and there is the Scrub Jay out competing the Stellar Jay. But is there greed as a natural state? I've been thinking about the debacle on Wall Street and the obscene bonuses made possible by the blind largesse given out by the government (and from our hard work). In a way it is another form of competitive advantage I guess. It is just sickening to me that intelligent people who have the potential to do positive work for so many people in the world choose to be so self-indulgent.

It is the time for the bear to gather the last stores and prepare for the long sleep. In Chinese medicine I learned that it is the time of metal and a time for turning inward. At this time of my life, with the world events going as they are, I just want to turn into the cave of Aisling and not leave. To store all my food, to install solar energy and a new woodstove, then to let the world do whatever it will do. It is definitely quieter now and it would be an ideal time to just sit on the land and pretend that things aren't like they are. Iraq. Afganistan. Wall Street. Unemployment. A surging China.

In the moment of pre-dawn, as I breathe the fresh, cool, humid air everything is alright with the world. As long as I stay in the moment, avoid listening to too much NPR, and listen to the leaves fall to the ground. Life is good in those moments.

The Rainy Season

The day before yesterday it was 30 degrees and today the first fall/winter storm has come in with slightly warmer temperatures. Tonight I drove back from Portland (about 2 hours) in the dark and wet. This weather is such a common staple in the Northwest. It is refreshing and the hardened and cracked topsoil will suck up the rain- closing those surface gaps. This is the rainy season, maybe not as dramatic as SE Asia or India, but just as persistent. For many of us it is good to feel this familiar change and for people new to the region they get surprised that this gray and wet can go on (not everyday) and on and on.

I've discovered two new words: bricolage and bricouler. I like the definitions that are in Wikipedia: "the construction or creation of a work from a diverse range of things which happen to be available, or a work created by such a process. The term is borrowed from the French word bricolage, from the verb bricoler – the core meaning in French being, "fiddle, tinker" and, by extension, "make creative and resourceful use of whatever materials are to hand (regardless of their original purpose)"; in contemporary French the word is the equivalent of the English do it yourself, and seen on large shed retail outlets all over France. A person who engages in bricolage is a bricoleur." This seems to be an aspect of which I'm quite versed. The counterpoint to this is the linear engineer... something which I need more development.

Nature is a bit of both I think. It is something about how it all seems to fit together like a coherent puzzle. There is a structure to it but there is also a construction of whatever appears. The blackberries and English Ivy are invasive species and creep into any piece of sunlight they can find. They have intruded upon the native plants. Yet there is a coherence with their presence. As we clear out the blackberries there is an increased amount of space and openness. This is something that we want but for the small songbirds, it may mean a loss of protective habitat. By clearing out the berry thicket we create more open space for the deer to wander through, but do we create an unsafe environment where the Cottontail Rabbits are easy prey for the bobcats?

Some might say that I spend too much time thinking about these things- I think that people spend too little time thinking about the consequences of their choices and subsequent actions. As we constantly act from our self-centered needs, what are the consequences of our actions? The main thing that distinguished us from animals with less developed brains is our ability to reflect more fully and respond thoughtfully and act judiciously.

Tonight I gave a talk at the Northwest Coaches Association meeting in Portland (2 hours from here). It is a perfect venue for selling and marketing my coaching and training services. However, I was more interested in talking about my life experience and just being who I am in life. At this point of middle age (I'll be 54 this weekend) I'm tired of trying to be things other than who I am or trying to perform the way that a public presenter "should" be. It is so much effort. There is a quote from William James that comes to mind:

"I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big success. I am for those tiny, invisible, loving, human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillary oozing of water, which, if given time, will rend the hardest monuments of pride."

I find that I am more interested in photographing the small things- the patterns up close rather than the big landscapes. I've come to the end of many weekends being occupied and a week in California to help some people build a retreat cabin. On my way there I wrote the following in my journal while parked at Scott Mountain Summit in the Siskiyous:
"...snow thinly covers pine and cedar. the redness and gray manzanita etch lines in the forest. a jay calls and there is the persistent mid-tone background of wind accompanying the stillness and the percussive beat of water droplets striking stone and needles. the Pacific Crest Trail is a quilt of orange pine needles and s sugar coating of snow.
"... I see and think of the writing and how I experience the snow through the lens of Gore Vidal talking to me from his book (on CD in the truck), Point to Point Navigation. His words, viewpoint, become the filter, it becomes the dictionary and grammar text from which these words flow onto paper. Just as he states how life is forever shaped by cinema... that people live life based on the images of cinema. I enter into the Trinity drainage, to a place where direct experience of the moment is deified and enthroned. It is the experience of warmth, smell, sounds, and images based on my years and years of experience driving over this summit. It is not just the experience of this present moment. It is tempered by my feeling for wilderness; sculpted and edited by my world of wilderness. The PCT summons from the dead my relationship with Bellingham Billy and the many experiences with first snowfall. The sounds of my boots crunching and the sight of my boot imprints are filtered through my emotions about past adventures. This is not like a child's first experience of snow but through the experiences of a lifetime..."

I'm back, it is late. May your journeys be fruitful.

In Praise of the Gentle

It is chilly these days and today we had measurable rain. The subtle shifts of color to red and orange have turned to brown and down (on the ground). Tonight the clouds have dissipated and delicate light illuminated the clouds. There are holes in the forest canopy and as I wander past Shiva's grave there is a place of grief and sadness that still visits me.

It didn't rain enough to get the creek running, but it isn't too long til it returns. I picked some of the last squash tonight: Patty Pan and Delicata. The gourds are still on the ground and our melons never got beyond the softball size. One of the melons split and the ants invaded and have left a shell and fibers. Last night I pulled the broccoli and tonight some of the kale. They have become infested with aphids. I've been spraying them with soapy water, along with the Brussel Sprouts and leafy veggies. It is a conundrum between my vow of non-harming and controlling things that are attacking our food. One way is to go buy food at the market and pretend that this doesn't go on in order to feed myself. But I think that is a cop out. Bury your head in the sand while you reach out with your hand to grab a handful of cleaned flowerets. No one said life gives us clear choices.

Last night I watched a movie: Fierce Light. It is a documentary about activism and spirituality. It is of a genre that paints two dramas against each other: Oaxaca, South Central Farm in LA, the Civil Rights movement, the tree sitters and the battle between the righteous and the misguided power brokers. It isn't to say these aren't good causes or Right Action, but I don't think it is what will bring about societal and global changes that must happen. It is so easy to stir the drama pot and paint the picture that if one changes the power broker's view that the world will be a better place. People are addicted to the high drama of extremes. In truth, change will come about when the millions of people addicted to reality t.v., sit coms, and apathy decide to think for themselves and engage in change.

It reminds me of the environmental movement in the early days, something in which I found meaning 30 years ago. The environmental groups missed the boat if they were truly trying to change things. Instead of choosing to focus their efforts solely on a political agenda they should have spent a lot more money on education. Some money was spent on education, but not nearly the amount that would have had an impact on millions of young children (and in turn) adults that are in their 30's and 40's today. Education is subtle; it is about impressing and shaping minds. It isn't sexy- like large protests or confrontation or spiking trees. It is necessary to have people who are willing to push the agenda to an extreme (in a non-harming way) but it also needs to be accompanied by education of the young. I remember the days of studying environmental education and how much a fringe world it was.

It is like how people are infatuated with the big carnivores, elephants, hippos, deer and there are few people who wax eloquently about the earth worm: one of the subtle creature of the earth that makes a huge impact. Our land is filled with them and sometimes I can't see them while looking at the deer or even the songbirds. The subtle doesn't get the excitement elevated, it doesn't produce adrenalin.

At night I stand outside and look at the stars. We have no light pollution in our immediate vicinity though we can see the lights of Eugene, especially when a layer of cloud hangs around. There is sometimes a noise and I think cougar coming to attack me and then my adrenalin surges. It's incredible what our minds can create, better than any Hollywood movie sometimes.

The colors will continue to dissolve and fade away
merging with the earth;
forms saturated with water
turning from brittle to boggy
insinuating into our memory.


Subtlties

Autumn

Autumn/Fall is fully here. The early morning temperature is in the 40's and we've had unseasonably hot days (90's and 80's). The colors are shifting from orange to brown. The killdeer are back. This morning, while sitting on the porch I heard a flock of them calling while flying in the early morning light. (For photos and sounds of these wonderful plovers, here is a good site: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Killdeer/id)

In the middle of the land we have let the meadow remain. It is unclear how much is native and how much introduced species, but it is allowed to grow wild. This is a place where the animals can wander through and hide in. In the center is a winding trail and on the edge another trail. While walking the side trail I came upon a Cottontail Rabbit that had been mostly eaten. Was it an owl or was it the Bobcat? Since we saw the Bobcat earlier in the summer we have seen very few rabbits.

This is a time of transition from the heat of summer to the cool of Fall. It is the transitional period before the winter rains. This year it is a major transition for us because we buried our furry companion of 19 years on the property. Shiva died last Friday. Cancer had made her life increasingly pain. This little cat was an integrated part of our family and she is missed. Euthanize comes for Greek meaning good death. We were with her when she died and still it is such a conflicting choice about making a decision about another being's life. We have taken a vow of non-harming. But is it more harm to have her suffer through a painful death?

The morning we did a ceremony for her two Great Horned Owls began to call and fly in front of us. One of the owls flew back and forth over the meadow, alighting on the tallest fir near the house. We have never seen them this close to the house. Are there omens? In some aboriginal cultures of SE Alaska (I've heard), the sound of an owl calling is a symbol of death. It was a fitting marker to her transition from this life. It was at that time that we laid her in the ground, covered her and placed a seated Buddha above her.

The word Autumn originally comes to the English language from Old French (autumpne) and to there from Latin autumnus. We also refer to this time of year as Fall, which comes to us from Norse, meaning "falling from a great height." This time of year used to be referred to as Harvest. (The English language is such an amalgam of the linguistic world, no wonder some people say it is so hard to learn.)

It is a time of transition. A time of turning inward. All over the northern hemisphere the winter approaches and the time of hibernation is upon us. A natural time for putting on layers of extra fat. It is the time of migration to the south (most of our songbirds have left and we only fill the feeders every other day) and for the last gatherings by our gray squirrels.

It is also approaching a year that we have been here. With the start of this Fall we have seen all four seasons. Soon the rock hard ground will soften and the grasses will grow quickly (at one point last winter it was up to my knees). A dusting of snow will appear, which will mark the full cycle of seasons that we've shared with this place.

Travel well and I will leave you with a poem.

Leaves
by Elsie Brady

How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.

Spiders and Gray Areas

I came across this spider. This one seemed to sit still for days amidst the lavendar. Everyday I'd check on it and it wouldn't have moved. There were no prey caught in its web. Then I was out picking blackberries and found another one. It was so easy to miss them and then when they were seen it was so easy to see. How does one miss something with such bright colors?

It does remind me of how often we miss the things that are right in front of us. In Buddhism there is a concept of self-secret. Through our ignorance we don't see things until we have the perspective or tools to see them. Then we see them when the time is right. Some of the hardest things for us to see are the things we do... even if we are looking in a mirror.

Sometimes it seems that life might have been easier when the illusion of life being black & white was the norm. There are so many shades of gray in life that it is, at times, overwhelming.

This morning it was dark when I began meditating on the deck and watched as light crept into the day, the stars dissipate, and the sun's rays turn the clouds to hues of red and yellow. Driving in to work the Canadian Geese were flocking and flying. The pears are ripening in paper bags, the plums are sweet, and the second crop of green beans fill the poles. The sunflowers hang heavy, 6 feet above my head. We haven't seen the hummingbirds for many days. Then we discovered that we hadn't heard the calling of the doves (how long have they been gone?)... something I will miss until they return next spring. This morning I heard the call of a Great Horned Owl. I hadn't heard one of those in quite a while.

Tonight the sound of guns was common. It is the beginning of hunting season. I'm sue the turkey flock will be threatened, just as all the deer in the area are. Though it would be great if we lived in a world that didn't involve killing, it is a fact that we need food and energy to live. The people around here hunt and fill their freezers. For me it is a truer way to live- to be willing to confront the food you will eat rather than deny it and just uncover plastic and styrofoam from the market. I stopped hunting long ago when it hurt my heart. Now I have taken a vow of non-harming and to kill with my own hands isn't something I'd do. But it is a gray area, if I eat meat, don't I just contribute to the death of another? You say grey, I say gray... it's still a life of gray.

The crickets are very loud tonight. The moon is elsewhere, so the stars are bright. May the stars guide you home.

Still haven't figured out the email sign-up. Be patient.

Technology

I've spent the last two weeks in a silent (non-speaking) retreat in the little cabin that sits on the property's edge. No cell phones, email, internet, movies, radio... I did have contact with Susan and periodically saw the front page of our local paper. It was time to meditate, contemplate, and do some of my spiritual practice. This is part of a dream to be stewards of land where we could meditate and where others could come to do that too. It isn't an uncommon Oregonian dream to have the 5 acres, trees, and a creek running through the land... well, for the moment that is what we have.



Our lives are so filled with technology. I like my devices: digital camera and recorder, Blackberry, internet searches, streaming videos, scanners, photo printers... Yet, it is soooo refreshing to leave it all behind and listen to the birds, rain on the metal roof, wind rustling through the cottonwood. There is something very healing and sane about being outdoors and paying attention to the winds of the mind- a gentle breeze and often hurricane force winds.

One of my concerns about technology is that people spend more and more time with only the people, ideas, and things they like and agree with. There is something to be said about having people around who see things differently, challenge our perspectives, and prove us wrong. During our life in Brownsville I was a part of the fire department for 13 years. I was a progressive, environmentalist, yoga teaching, bike riding guy with many around who were traditional hunter/fishermen/loggers/farmers/millworkers. They were the salt of the earth and reinforced for me that there are many ways to provide service, kindness, and compassion in this world. It is so easy to cast a broad net about "those people" and keep ourselves huddled into our corners while tossing out disparaging comments that stereotype others.

If you have never read Wendell Berry, I encourage you to. He writes a lot about the land and people who live on the land. He wrote a piece, "Why I am NOT Going to Buy a Computer". Here are his nine principles. Though I don't agree with all of it for my life... it does give us something to consider:
1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.
2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.
3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.
4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.
5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.
6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.
7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible.
8. It should come from a small, privately owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance and repair.
9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

During the retreat I did do some writing. (Written with a fountain pen... one of the things I love to do. There is something very pleasing about feeling a nib cross a sheet of paper and periodically to place it into a bottle of ink for refilling.) One of the concepts that came to me was about the external and internal evolution of humans. It seems that an underlying imperative for the human species is to grow. In our prehistory, it seems that we were a pretty vulnerable species and the one thing that we developed was the capacity for higher order thinking. Which led us to the use of tools and technology. From the 2001: A Space Odyssey image of the primate hitting with a Tapir bone we have progressed to drones killing without any "one" there. We can either grow outwardly or inwardly. Whereas the principle growth principle for our society is through extending ourselves through external devices... we claim more territory through a Google search, we expand our knowledge, we grow by consumption of things.

Other cultures have developed extremely rich inner worlds. Delving into a deeper understanding of life, the land, and the cosmos. I think both inner and outer growth have been beneficial and I think we need more inner growth. Maybe spending time outdoors would help. It might be too much to hope for people to take 2 weeks a year to meditate outdoors, but it is a nice thought. A friend of mine revealed to me a syndrome that children are suffering from: Nature Deficit Disorder. Since we live in a rural area I know kids get outside a lot, but not so in many of our urban areas and the gaming universe.



Our land is abundant right now. The garden is full of squash, pumpkins, kale, pole beans, potatoes, gourds, tomatoes, hot peppers and other things. Our corn has all been eaten. The remaining artichokes and sun flowers are filled with bees gathering pollen. The blackberries are full, ripe, sweet. Apples are tempting us to pick them. (This morning, as the sun was rising, I was sitting on the deck and watched a turkey jump up and hit one of the apples to the ground.) The poison oak and blackberry leaves are turning to orange and red. The mornings are much cooler (44 this morning) and the days warm (80). The smells of cottonwood, ripened apples, and a rich mixture of life and decay. There are so many things I can "capture" and share: images, words... but as yet there is (yet) not a way to share the rich fragrance of a Fall here or the feel of the chill morning after a summer of heat. It is the smell that brings so many warm emotions to me and memories. Memories of salmon spawning on the Skagit River, walking in the foothills of the Cascades, of youth in Washington State wandering the forests, rivers, and mountains.

A few things as I wind up this post:
First, I think I have figured out the technology of "feeds". So, I will hopefully have a way for you to automatically get an email saying there is a new post (if you sign up.)

The second (and most important to my heart)
My nephew flew out of the U.S. last night on his way to Kuwait and, soon, to Iraq. Whatever your persuasion or feelings about the war- please send David your prayers and good wishes (plus some for his wife and 2 year old child). He is near and dear to my heart- it was extremely hard to get his phone call last night and say good bye.

May all beings be kept out of harms way.

Joseph

Nightfall

It reached 94 degrees today. The clay soil is rock hard and the grasses have very little moisture in them. The dandelions and blackberries continue to grow and the later are putting out their sweetened fruit. Some sweet corn was picked tonight... delicious right off the stalk.

It is a very comfortable temperature, as the last light of the day seeps away. A planet shines brightly in the SE skies, Jupiter/Venus? The crickets call out their incantation to the cool evening. Two years ago I was staying on Lamma Island in Hong Kong. The crickets rubbed/chirped their music quite loudly. As a matter of fact, in most places that I have traveled these members of the Gryllidae family are present. We all are under the same sky, breathe the same air, dream similar dreams. We also share the presence of insects like these crickets.

This afternoon I watched a grasshopper walk across our deck. It was missing one of its rear legs. These are the ones they use for jumping. It would walk normally and then periodically list to the side. Was it attacked by a snake? Born without one leg? More mysteries of life. There are a multitude of moths, butterflies, gnats, mosquitoes, bees, wasps, earwigs, pill bugs... and many more. This land is filled with life.

Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche was born in 1930's Tibet. Since the part of Tibet he lived in was so high, there was very little variety in their diet. It basically consisted of meat and barley, plus the ever present butter tea. It was reported that he once said that they used to feel sorry for the lowlanders who had to eat all those plants and kill all those animals. Where the people of Eastern Tibet might have to kill a single animal to eat, the people who farmed had to kill worms, insects, small mammals to eat from their farms.

It is an interesting perspective. We have a way of dismissing the small creatures of the animal kingdom in favor of the larger animals. It is a conundrum if one is a vegetarian. The Jains, a religous sect in India, prescribe a path of non-violence toward all living beings. There are some who refuse to go out at night so they don't accidentally kill a creature and they might wear a mask around their mouth so they don't accidentally breathe in an insect.

There are those who think of such paths as "crazy" "extreme". I wonder who is crazy and extremist: such people as the Jains or those who consume huge amounts of resources. Is it crazier to live one's life focused on non-harming or to be ignorant of the harm one does toward others? I tend to think the view of acquiring as much capital and resources as possible is the crazier lifestyle.

One of the more difficult choices about living out here was the distance from town. I was looking forward to living in Corvallis and getting around town on bike and bus. It is very gratifying being out here, the land is beautiful and we are working hard to be good stewards of the land. There are trade-offs in this life and one of those is traveling out here.

One of those ways of being better stewards is to minimize our travel. One of the spiritual practices is to stay put. Going many places and doing a lot can be an addiction and one that is very hard to break. I'm used to traveling the world, seeing many people and things. Yet, what does it really bring us in the end? Travel helps us understand each other better. However, there comes a point where travel is another commodity; another thing to acquire.

It is a lesson to watch a grasshopper walk across the deck or a moth cling to the wall. This is a place where one can watch the grass grow (and wither in the heat). It is a place where one can sit and feel the cool of morning turn to the heat of afternoon, then feel the cool breath of night time. It is the breath of the earth as it spreads around the planet. May your path be aided by that cool breeze.

Birch Bark

Outside our main door (which happens to be the "back" door) are three Paper Birches (also called American White Birch or Canoe Birch). These white trees peel back from the trunks in thin sheets. Some of them roll up into a tight roll, like a thin cigarette. Though it is native in Washington State, it isn't in Oregon. When I was a wee lad I remember my great grandfather's brother, Bob, used to harvest the bark and sell it. It was a way for him to supplement social security. In my memory of nearly fifty years ago is a comment that he said it was sold for making paper. This would have been the mid-sixties. Did they still make paper out of paper birch then?

Uncle Bob, that is what I called him, was a character that still fills my heart with joy. After my great grandfather Ben died, I went to visit Uncle Bob during spring break. I thought it was so cool that we went and dug nightcrawlers from a large and old pile of horse manure in the auction yards of Arlington, Washington. Machias was the name of the little hamlet that he lived near and this place had two stores (one with a post office), a tavern, and a worm farm. Doc's worm farm used to buy Uncle Bob's worms from him. He read Zane Grey novels, showed me my first "girlie magazines", ate Safeway pastries filled with sugar, and he told me stories of his life in the artillery in WWI. He also told me a bit about his life as a hobo riding the trains.

It's amazing what a little thing like peeling birch will elicit from one's memory. Everytime I go out the door I see those white trunks and think of him.

The other day I hauled these 15 foot 6x6s to the "tree house". This was put up by the previous owner and was more like a well-built platform. The platform is 8-10 feet up the Ash trees. So I hauled this beam over and it is long enough that I can walk up it and sit on this platform. I did yoga on it the other day too. It looks down on the creek and into this lush forest. I spent one day painting an ash tree and leaves.

This is a place that is conducive to retreat. Even though we have neighbors and horses right next door and people across the gravel road, it is very private. We can spend days in retreat and not have people intrude upon the space. We are far enough out from Corvallis that it takes a commitment to come out here. It is an easy place to slow down and be with the rhythm of the growing plants, the wind, the call of the crickets and tree frogs, and the movement of the moon and stars. When the moon is full it is so bright that one can walk through the meadow by its light.

The other day I was doing my morning meditation on the deck, listening to the call of the Mourning Doves, when suddenly they exploded off the ground and took flight. In a matter of moments they were attacked by a Cooper's Hawk. First one dove evaded the hawk, but then there was a sudden release of feathers and one of the dove's was fast in the talons. The hawk landed then took off into the willows. There were few birds that showed up for an hour or so.

Sitting there, watching this scene of life and death, it became an important insight into the impermanence of life. We never know when we will exhale and not inhale. It is a challenge to know how to experience joy in each moment of our lives. Opening our hearts and minds to each and every moment is simple but complex. There is no operating manual or rule book. We must each find our own way amidst the hawks, crickets, and peeling birch.

A talisman is an object that averts evil and brings good fortune. In ancient Greek it meant to initiate into the mysteries. This land is a talisman for me. It is a blend of the realities of life in the moment and the mysteries as they unfold. It also brings good fortune because it brings to me good memories of important people. Uncle Bob brought much joy into my life and Grandpa Ben brought a love for the outdoors into my soul. It's amazing what a piece of paper birch can bring into one's life.

May your life be filled with mysteries to contemplate.

Living on the Edge

The riparian zone is the place where a stream and land meet. It is often a place where a chaordic (chaos and order) state exists. It is a place rich with variety even though it might be a tangle of alder, cottonwood, blackberry, snowberry, thistle, and poison oak. It is a place of safety for many small creatures and on this land they are the Cottontail Rabbit, squirrels, and songbirds. Many mornings our neighbor's cat makes its rounds along the edge.

If you've ever walked in a riparian zone you'll notice that it is rich with life, whereas if you venture deep into the wildwoods it is filled with less variety. As magnificent as the ancient trees are they reveal less life than do the edges.

If one goes toward our creek (now dry) the water striders are gliding across the surface of the water. Have you seen water striders as they move across the surface of the water? The ends of their legs push down on the water surface like a finger poking into plastic wrap. These insects belong to the Gerridae family. They have non-wetting legs and it is their structural design, not the wax coating that allows them to skim across the surface of the water.

The pond they call home will soon be a memory, but come winter it will be 4 feet deep and home for the Rough-Skinned Newt. I've seen this amphibian all over the Pacific Northwest. This slow moving, orange belly creature is toxic. However, for humans it would need to be ingested. Maybe it should have a warning label: Harmful when ingested. I guess if I were starving there would be that temptation. The newt has disappeared during this hot, dry phase of our climate.

This land is a place where the cultivated and the wild live side-by-side. In wildland firefighting terms it is the wildland-urban interface. No one would mistake this area for urban though. An environmentalist I once studied with wrote a book called The Comedy of Survival. Joseph Meeker draws a comparison in literature to our efforts in creating an environmental ethic. In one of the chapters he compares the pastoral with the picaresque. This term comes from the Spanish word, picaro. Rogue.

We live on the edge between the pastoral and the rogue; between the cultivated and the wild; where the riparian zone continues to reach out from its hold on the shore. Tentacles of blackberry and alder reach further and further into the field. Putting down roots wherever they can. It is like our own neural net making new connections when we learn. Here it is the earth reaching and expanding into new territory. It is a dance we play with keeping life wild and orderly. Too much order and the place begins to look like a formal garden in England or China. However, there is a calming aspect to this order.

If we let the land just take care of itself then it becomes a jumble of native and invasive plants. That disorder is less appealing as a preferred living environment. In the city I have seen people who have let their dandelions grow and the grass go to seed. I've preferred a blend, a little order and serenity nearby the house and wildness where it is easily seen and experienced. (We aren't talking about wilderness, which should be left to its own life.)

I guess it is like the taming of one's mind. If we hold too tight and structure our mental processes, we lose the creativity. But if we let the mind run wherever it goes, then we live a very chaotic and unpredictable life. This land is a place to contemplate and meditate on the variegated nature of our relationship with the natural world and our own mind.

Good night from the edge of the wildwoods.

Summer Heat, Sleep Outs and Flying Birds

It hit 106 degrees in Corvallis today. Only one person I have met remembers anything this hot. Out here it was a couple degrees cooler, it might have reached 102. Last night it cooled off to the low-mid 60's. In town people said the air was stagnant. Really speaks to living with a lot of green around. It also helps that we are on a slope and there is the flow of hot and cooler air happening between the Valley floor and the Coast Range. The heat that gets trapped in the concrete and asphalt just stores all that thermal energy and then releases it into the world. When I walked through a parking lot today it reminded me of being in a Phoenix, Arizona gas station in July. It was like a blast from a kiln. The difference is that the humidity (43% today) is higher than Arizona.

Last night I put the inflatable bed out on the deck to sleep. It was great to see the first quarter of the moon hanging between the trees as it sat behind the coast range. The stars are so prominent out here... there is very little light pollution. When it is overcast, we get the glow from Eugene. But on a night like last night it was stars, stars, and more stars. As the daylight faded the bats and the Nighthawks came out. These were the first Nighthawks I have seen, where have they been. They were making their high pitched calls. I remember the male birds making their deep, basal calls when they make their swooping mating runs into the sky and back down.

Nighthawks is also the term used for one of the more famous pieces of American art by Edward Hopper. ( Here is a link to a Wikipedia page about him: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Hopper). This type of painting, done in 1942, remind me of my parents and grandmother. The diner is the type that my mom and grandma worked in for years and years.

Another term for Nighthawks is a term I was introduced to in The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman. He describes the business of x-rays and other images being read by professionals in Australia and India while the people in North America sleep. Then the report is available the next morning, when the nighthawks have gone to bed.

The flying nighthawks and bats had disappeared into the dark by the time I settled down for a night's sleep... looking up at the vast panorama of stars. I lay there and drifted, then would wake to look at Mars rising in the south, then doze. Then the first buzz of a mosquito and it would disappear with a bit of my blood. Then the dogs started barking, not real loud. Probably barking at a deer, raccoon, skunk... or some other mammal. It is possible it was a coyote, bobcat or cougar. Bear wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Well, they started barking, the mosquitos kicked in with a high toned violin.. pretty soon there was quite a chorus. The idea of a nice night in the cooler evening outdoors soon turned into a night of not sleeping so deeply.

When I worked with Outward Bound I had around 800-900 days in the field. That is a lot of time to sleep in sleeping bags on ensolites (and later Therma Rests). That has been many, many years ago and sleeping on the ground still has a cachet with my romantic memory, but I do like the thick air mattress on the deck. Comfortable bedding treats this body easier.

The turkeys haven't been around much. I've quit feeding the doves with millet on the ground... the very thing the turkeys have been eating. The creek is down to a small trickle. The water is dripping into the pool beneath the bridge, but the surface creek is dry. There is some sub-surface water that is trickling down. This is the home of the Rough-Skinned Newt.

From Aisling, a good night.

Turkeys and Other Rural Dilemmas

Fourteen turkeys, 3 hens and 11 poults scratch a living from this land. Meleagris gallopavo, subspecies Rio Grande, are doing very well since the early 1900's when only a few thousand were left in this country. Now it is suspected that there are close to 7 million. This flock loves the dirt. They have cleared out two crops of corn as they were coming out of the ground, scattered wood chips from beneath trees, and accidentally dug up plants.

On one hand we are tempted to chase them away. Maybe have them live-trapped and transported elsewhere. On the other hand, this is their land and has been long before we came here. To what extent do we domesticate the land and remove the animals we don't like. The turkey question is a dilemma for us.

It is one of many potential dilemmas that people in rural areas face. We moved out here to be surrounded by trees, song birds, sprinting bobcat (a story for another blog), the sound of the creek and wind... being removed from the high tech convenience society. Yet we drive 40 minutes each way to our work, use chain saws/weed eaters/lawn mowers to remove what we don't want. Listen to iPods while mowing the lawn and take digital shots of this beautiful land to put onto an online image storage site. We plant beautiful flowering plants to go with the preexisting abundance of color. Yet we mow down the beautiful dandelions in our yard/meadow.

I once heard a report that people who live in rural areas of the United States use 17% more energy than those in urban areas. We move out here to be part of the land and wind up using more energy to keep it the way we want it.

Life is filled with dilemmas. I think life is a continual shade of gray. It is analog rather than digital. When I was younger it seemed that life was going to be more certain as I got older. Yet the truth is that it is more complex. During my idealist days in the peace, environmental, and social justice movements the direction and purpose seemed so much clearer. Now, I am certain of the complexity of life; the impermanence of all that lives; the fact that all that lives will decay and die. Creatures transform, just as concepts, principles, and ideas morph during different phases of life.

One constant is that Mother Earth needs our attention. This is our home and we each have a part to play. The way we play our part is where the dilemmas come in. Our logger/hunter/rancher neighbors see their path as leading the good life and taking care of the land. Our friends who deeply believe in Peak Oil and the coming dark ages see that it must be taken care of in another way.

The problem with gray is that there is not a clear point of accomplishment. Is success when we get rid of the turkeys? Is it when we shift our minds to include them as part of our extended family and just don't plant what they will destroy? Is it when they are on the dining table of a local bobcat?

Any one who professes to have THE answer, doesn't.

We are constantly faced with dilemmas: turkeys, dandelions, gas use, concrete footprints, carbon trade-offs. The best we can do is our best.

John Mayer, in the song Belief, sang the following lyrics:
Is there anyone who ever remembers
changing their mind from the paint on a sign?,
is there anyone who really recalls
ever breaking rank at all
for something someone yelled real loud one time?
oh, everyone believes
in how they think it oughta be
oh, everyone believes
and they're not going easily

Good luck with your dilemmas.