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