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Twenty-Fifth Anniversary

Twenty-five years ago, I left home on a cross-country road trip that somehow changed the direction of my life. 

A Transcendental Journey was the first book I wrote, though not the first published. From time to time, I have shared some excerpts here with my Green Room friends. The Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Edition, with a new afterword, is available today.

I’m grateful for those who in one way or another kept me going, and especially for those who pointed the way.

 

Jackson Lake 3 cropped 2

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Hummingbirds at Night

Experts tell us that Hummingbirds are not nocturnal creatures.
They need their sleep -- surely as much or more than I do.
They are amazingly energetic and have abilities that other birds
can only dream of. They are acrobats and flying aces with
aerial combat and near constant feeding.

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But one night recently, it was under the Sturgeon Moon, I found
myself sitting outside under the portal. The super moon was bright
and making it hard for me to sleep.  I have trouble sleeping
under a full moon as I grow older. There is an urgency that keeps
me awake on those nights. It was very late, or maybe early.

 

On this night, the planet Jupiter was shining bright just a short
distance from the moon, or so it seemed. It was at the ten o'clock
position in relation to our moon.  The moons of Jupiter are
visible with a zoom lens on a point-and-shoot camera.
I had my camera with me and was visually alert.

 

DSCN5406xy Jupiter2

I soon began to see Hummingbirds. Several of them. They
were visiting my Desert Willow, now in partial bloom with its
sweet-pea flowers. It is a little late in the season but there are
still some late blooms. My home is a refuge for late bloomers. The
Willow tree and the Hummingbirds, and me, perhaps.

 

Were the Hummers stimulated, as I am, by the bright moon?
Once I saw one silhouetted against the moonlit sky, I saw several.
They are territorial creatures and protective of their space but they
seemed to be at peace with each other as they visited the blossoms.
I sat and watched in amazement.

 

Of course, I tried to get a photograph but to no avail. They were a blur
if I caught them at all. The combined effect of the moonlight and the
silhouette of the birds and the blossoms against the gray-blue expanse
of the universe was not to be captured in any way other than my own
memory. That was fitting on such a night.

 

The hummingbird is sometimes considered to be a spiritual messenger.
I have lost several friends this year. My own thoughts have been locked
in on my own loss of almost fifteen years ago, to the day. American Indian
folklore holds that seeing a Hummingbird at night foretells an encounter with
someone bringing great joy and happiness. I'll go with that.

 

DSCN5395x

 

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The Home Place — 2022

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Never underestimate the touch of a Hand

 

 

A short visit to my father turned out to be another blessed moment with him.

Asleep at midday, I sat beside him in silence, holding his hand.

 

He squeezed my finger, letting me know he acknowledges my presence.

I stroke his forehead and he gently smiles.

 

I then place my hand on his chest and start stroking him gently.

He utters, “feels good” with a smile of content on his face.

 

How I cherish these gentle moments with my father.

How I wish he realizes how much his words and gestures strengthen me.

 

I remain grateful and blessed beyond words.

His love and affection lingers deep within me.

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A Dream

New IMage from the James Webb Space Telescope resized

I had a dream that when we die, the story of our life is added to the universe.

A good life becomes light. A bad life becomes dark energy that sends the heavens spinning apart.

So we decide our fate.

 

(Image from the James Webb telescope)

 

 

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The Price of Beauty

pexels kristina paukshtite 712876 resized

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something has devoured my flowers.

I suspect it was the deer. A family of deer (buck, doe, and two fawns) have been coming to the parkish place behind my apartment for a couple of weeks. They are beautiful, and wild, and tame, and charming. They have no fear of humans, or their dogs, though if you approach they will grudgingly move on.

They come most often in the late afternoon, and I can see them as I sit writing. Sometimes I find them hiding from the sun under a large pine tree in the front, as I walk out to get the mail. The fawns are a few weeks old at most, and I can see their legs trembling still as they stand and munch the grass, or the leaves that have fallen during the frequent summer storms.

I had planted the flower seeds sometime in June, in the 10x4 patch of ground that serves for a garden in front of my porch. I don’t recall what kind of flowers they were. I had ordered a packet of seeds for flowers that would attract butterflies. They had grown to about 8 to 10 inches tall, the largest with broad oval-shaped leaves, handsome and not at all delicate. They had not flowered, so I don’t know what kind or color they would have been. And now I will never know. '

When I woke this morning and looked out, all of the leaves had been eaten, leaving bare slender stalks standing like small green telephone poles, or an invasion of tiny slender aliens. Perhaps they will grow leaves again. But I doubt it.

I was angry at first – these are the first of anything that I had planted myself (though honestly I did little more than disturb the ground and sprinkle). And water faithfully, as instructed. But now, I suppose I can’t blame the deer; they have offered fair trade, beauty for beauty.

Perhaps beauty is the price of beauty, always a trade, beauty like energy being never created nor destroyed. The law of conservation of beauty. Perhaps that applies to many areas of life, as well, all things in balance on the seesaw of eternity.

Perhaps. But until the deer start hovering delicately over my garden like butterlies, I will regret the loss of my flowers.

 

 

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite: https://www.pexels.com/photo/blue-white-and-red-poppy-flower-field-712876/

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Twenty-five years ago, I left home on a cross-country road trip that somehow changed the direction of my life.  A Transcendental Journey was...
Experts tell us that Hummingbirds are not nocturnal creatures. They need their sleep -- surely as much or more than I do. They are amazingly energetic...
    A short visit to my father turned out to be another blessed moment with him. Asleep at midday, I sat beside him in silence, holding his...
I had a dream that when we die, the story of our life is added to the universe. A good life becomes light. A bad life becomes dark energy that sends ...
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Latest Comments

Stephen Evans Twenty-Fifth Anniversary
13 September 2022
No doubt!
Virginia M Macasaet Twenty-Fifth Anniversary
13 September 2022
25 years! Takes me back to the early start of my own personal journey... You've come this far, I ca...
Virginia M Macasaet Hummingbirds at Night
13 September 2022
Lovely writing! Inspiring!
gr8word Twenty-Fifth Anniversary
13 September 2022
What a great way to document your memories, reflections and insights about a journey of discovery on...
Ken Hartke Hummingbirds at Night
21 August 2022
Thanks for the kind comments. You make me blush. I love to watch them but I'm a little wary of Humm...