Fire on the Mountain

After a very dry and breezy month, the forest we live in caught fire this past week.  The smoke could be seen for quite a distance and at night the sky in the north was a glow, as if the sun had decided to set in a new direction.

I scouted the fire, going to a ridge a half mile north and could see that the fire was within another half mile of the ridge.

We had to take a moment to think about what we would do should we need to leave our home if the fire came our way.  Where would we go, what would we take.  Then we thought about what it would mean if we lost what was left behind.

It is an exercise in thought a assessing ones values that proved quite comforting to us.  We realized that there was little we would actually need to take with us, that there was little that we could loose that would devastate us.  A car load for each of us to drive away with was really all we came down to needing, and then most of that was not need as much as want.

The things of real value are not tangible.  All those things that could go up in flames are just things and have no real lasting value.

We eventually got to talking about the positive side of having the property cleared by fire and then starting over from the ground up and how we'd be free to plan a house that we'd build rather than making the one we bought work for us, which it has and does quite well.  In the end there was a kind of freedom in the idea of loosing every thing that we had accumulated over our lives.

The fire burned to the north and then the wind turned and it came back to the south, but it had no fuel to burn as it had just used it all up.  The Spring has just begun and we have an entire summer ahead of us, and the possibility of more fires.

I suppose that knowing that there is little that we actually really need to have makes us rest a little easier and allows us to enjoy all that we do have as they are all luxuries.  What a luxurious life we lead, with more clothes, and food than we can carry.

The Ocean

As James Cameron has just touched the bottom of our deepest sea, we humans have killed another mystery in a world that was once full of mystery.  We, humans, seem to look so hard at the physical nature of our world, dividing and classifying everything we can observe, including ourselves.

It seems to me that with all of our "great" ability to explore, produce, extract and organize, we still have done little to improve our situation with greater happiness, compassion, or peace.  It has been said that all of our technology, industry, medical advances, entertainments, can be likened to giving salt water to a thirsty person, the appearance seems desirable but the effect is to make us more thirsty, and sick.

Because we know how far, how fast, or for how long, it does change the fact that we all thirst, hunger, love, hate, rejoice and suffer, live and die.

For each bit of "advancement", there is a price such that we have not seen much gain but rather a lot of frenzy and chaos.

Exploration, on a truly human scale, could do us some good, but we have mostly looked right past that.  

I stand on my own two feet, 

and move with the energy that is truly mine, 

I need no thing not offered, no thing that was not already here,

 and explore my own reasonable path,

 all that I need to discover is within my reach.

We have reached the tallest peak and the path is a littered highway, the peak a mound of meaningless markers and flags.

We have soared higher than the greatest birds and now our planet is surrounded by dead satellites, flotsam and jetsam.

As we now touch the deepest ocean floor, I wonder at what form of desecration will we put upon it.

I have explored the ocean, the deep and the shallow, the calm and the stormy.  I have got there by my own means, within the limitations of my human condition, by the energy that was offered.  My navigation was made by looking what at was around me, the face of the sky, the birds that flew by, the mood of the water, and by listening to the stories of those who went before me and who now have a quality of spirit like polished glass found by the sea.  I don't think that we will find anything at the bottom of the Mariana Trench that will be as useful to us as what we could get from just standing at the edge of the ocean and watching the waves roll in.

As waves upon the great ocean

we run our course

sometimes gentle, sometimes crashing

always mixing, reflecting, amplifying, canceling

but only for a time.
all end as they began 

Never alone, or separate, or individual

we are simply an observed series of moments and places of the great ocean

The surface of the great ocean has infinite numbers of waves

there are no limits to how many or for how long, and each has it's

own unique path

as some die others are born, it is impossible to count them

There is no need of fear, no ego, no individual need or desire

no wave is a thing unto itself, but just a quality of the great ocean

The end of a wave is not the end of the water that formed it

or the energy that shaped it

these things never belonged to the wave and were always a 

part of the great sea.

The Hat

Death is a hat I wear each day

When the brightness of the sun threatens to cook my brain,

I am relieved by the knowledge that this life

will have it's end

When the rain runs down into my eyes and blurs my vision

I put on my hat and can see a bit better, further

I take it off when crossing the threshold of the church

Those inside seek escape from death, but I keep my hat in my hand,

and I notice that the miter stays in place

While taking a rest at the stream side, under the shade of the tree

I take it from my head and cool my thoughts, sinking deeply into

the bliss of this life, body, heartbeat, tired muscle, gratitude

Eventually I will resume my journey, and restore it to my head

holding it in place when the freshening breeze grabs at it,

the brim keeps me from looking to high up, away from the path I walk,

without me adjusting my whole attitude upward

It is mine, and fits me

I have come to know it as

it has come to know the shape of my head

It is not good or bad, it is just a useful thing,

a necessary thing to carry with me

each day

each night I can leave it on it's hook

and know that in the morning, if morning should come

I can find it easily

and go out into the day

and continue on my Path

Where am I, or how'd I get here

From where do I begin?  

     I am here.  

Where is here?

     This is a journey of it's own that is in no way a simple or short/static answer.  

But, for a beginning this is what I know:  

     In this almost 49 year old body, in this chair, in a wooded part of the world I know to be east, the direction the sun rises, and a bit north, the direction the sun goes away from in the winter, by about 2500 miles of where it was I first knew to be.  

     All else, like this being earth, in a solar system......is convention, assumption, and not so relative.

     What is the difference between my knowledge of where I am now, and my knowledge of where I was when I was in France, or Japan, or any other place that I was flown to or driven to and did not mark the passing of each moment of the journey?

     The first time I came to the Northeast of the United States I flew her on a commercial airline.  I didn't keep track of the flight in it's entirety.  I just took it for granted that I was being taken to where I was going.

Now that I have actually driven the distance from where I first began, to where I am now, and marked every bit of the way, finding it myself, I think I have a better idea of where I am.

     It is important for me to know, just what it is I know of where I am, and to differentiate between this and what I assume or accept as convention.

     I could say that I am on planet earth and that earth is at a certain place in the solar system, galaxy, universe.....

All of that would be convention, what I have chosen to accept as true, and not of my own personal knowledge.  This doesn't mean it isn't so, it just means that I haven't experienced it, really.

There was a time not so long ago when so much of what we knew, was what we experienced.  It was knowledge that was earned by living it.  Now, so much of what we think we know is what we choose to accept as knowledge.  Do you really, really know where these words on the screen are coming from? Going?  Where do they exist?  Can you actually pinpoint them.  (don't actually try this or you might ruin your monitor screen)

In my quest to understand where it is that I am, so that I can understand where my path begins, I need to look around me and asses what it is that I know.  It isn't necessary that I have science reports of climate change or news of oil spills or mountains being mined, or forests being cut down, to recognize the state of my world, the one I live in.  It is as easy as noticing, really looking, listening, smelling, feeling.

My world is crowded.  My world is noise polluted.  My world is chaotic.  It is littered.  Life around me is stifled by tarmac and concrete.  The roads are littered with the bodies of the dead, killed by vehicles who's drivers put schedule or entertainment over the value other, and sometimes their own, life.

The world around me has been changed so that I can't find the food or materials I need to survive, in the area I live. 

I can't walk from my home to visit my friend a few towns away with out having to be threatened by speeding tons of steal (cars) or with having to walk thru privately owned land, or that which is as limited to me as private, but labelled public.

All of this, and more, define where it is that I start my journey from.

More,

There is still a growing and regenerating world around me that can supply much of what I need to, not only survive, but thrive.  Water still falls from the sky and stores under ground, in lakes, and runs in rivers.  Their are still those around me who choose to nurture life, rather than exploit it.  They understand the on going nature of life, and the end of our individual lives, the co-dependancy that benefits us all and the affects we each have on one another.  That these kind of people exist, and choose to be stewards the world is energizing and comforting.

    Though the place I find myself has the scars of generations of abuse, it takes very little effort to produce healing.  

A Path is made with respect and consideration of the elements found to already exist.  It is different than a road in this respect.  Many paths can exist in a place and reveal the place to those who would walk them, never changing the nature of a place.  A road is different in this respect.  One road, forced upon a place can change the nature and integrity of place.  A road cuts through a place and allows one to look away from and disregard what is around it.

A path is something sought after with every step, every moment

Questions, quests, and more questions

In order to embark on this Path a few questions have to be asked:

From where do I begin?

Where is it I intend to go?

In what manner shall I get there?

A journey is in each of these questions.  Each gives rise to more questions.  At some point we either stop asking questions so as to get on with the beginning, or we realize that the questions themselves are the journey, each a stone to be stepped upon, a print to be made in the earth, a blade of grass to be pressed down by our step.

Big walls & Pubs

Two climbers rope up at the base of a cliff.  Each tends to his own gear, making sure that he has what he needs, or what he thinks he will need, in the adventure to follow.  Each carries his own share of the food water, emergency gear that they might need, plus the one or two items that always stay with him.  For each climber this item is different.  For some it is practical, say a knife or piece of line, or sweater.  For others it is symbolic as in a picture of somebody, or a trinket or token.  For some it is both symbolic and potentially functional, say an energy bar that tastes so bad it will always be at the bottom of the backpack and thus will stave off starvation, or a carabiner that is so old and worn as to be of questionable integrity so it is never used but is always there just in case.

Each is familiar with the route and each has his own concerns over certain sections, though not necessarily the same sections.  They will "rope up", or be tied together on the climb but each will do the work needed to get himself and his share of the load up the wall.  It isn't expected that one could or would carry the weight of the other to the top.  In that case neither would reach their goal.

The climb is it's own subject and we each experience it in our own way.  That is not our concern.  It is the bivys, or rests along the way when the climbers stop for a time, or the night.  It is during these times when the true relationship of the two climbers can be fortifying or destructive to the rest of challenge lying ahead.  While sharing a cup of tea or preparing a meal, and maybe taking stock of gear and position, the conversation that is had between the two can either be about the climb itself, or some other interesting topic that takes them far away from their tenuous station and situation for the moment.

If the conversation is about the climb it can usually be classified in two ways.  First, it can be reflective and a statement or explanation of the experience.  This is usually a sharing of the extreme points and can be an affirmation of the uniqueness of the place and time.  This can sound like a step by step and mechanical re-accounting of the event or it can be more experiential or impressionistic.

The second type of conversation that can occur is often accusatory and critical.  This comes in the form of one climber blaming the other for any number of things like holding up the speed, loosing the route, placing to much gear on the route or not doing the route the way he thinks it could be done best.  It can even be about the route itself, the climb, the mountain, country or the state of climbing in general.

After the climb the same options of conversation are available once on the peak, back at the pub, or when relating the event to others.  The highlights can either be about dangerous and frightening situations, or about the good fortune, good weather, and fine route that was had.

It is sometimes challenging not to focus on the negative.  When relating events to those who have no real experience of something to draw from, it often seems easier to "relate" to them by focusing on the negative or frightening or unpleasant, rather than the extreme exalted state of bliss that can only be had by the actual experience of it.  We all have experiences pleasant and unpleasant so it seems odd to think one easier to relate to than another.

I have found the best company to be in is the company of those who can speak of the joys of life rather than the epic near misses or the true tragedies.  The very best company to be in is the company of those who feel the need to say very little, because little need be said,  understanding is in common.  A word or a reference can be enough to get all looking in the same direction, thinking of the same thing.  When this is not possible I prefer no company at all over hearing of the horrors of experience.  Living them once is often more than enough, no need to relive them in the retelling.

I find myself not always being the best company, by this definition.  I am not sure if it is my outlook or that I have so few around me that seem to have the shared view of what is truly great about life.

Life is lived alone.  We may be in the company of others but our life is ours alone.  At those sustaining moments, when we get to have community with others I feel much more inspired to live a good and full life if those moments of sharing are happy and celebratory.  Those moments with others, sharing a meal, a cup of coffee, listening to music or dancing, preparing food, or what ever, they make me glad to be a part of the human family.  They take on a totally different feeling and have a totally different affect on me if they are filled with complaints and frustrations and anger.

The idea of venting on others seems destructive and selfish.  It seems down right dumb when you consider that after a venting session I might feel less likely to explode, but not near happy, so the fortune of having another person to listen and share with came no where near it's real potential to being communion.

So I guess I can be the blokes sitting at the bar, drunk, unhappy and alone in a crowd, griping about the world, or, I can be the one of the guys sitting in with the band in the corner trying to connect musically and create something celebratory, working hard and with a smile on my face, thirstily quaffing down a pint between songs, but not having so many as to limit my ability to contribute to the chosen tune.

It all happens in the same pub at the same time.

Snow last night

It's been a pretty snowless year so far.

The Lakes and woods just to the west of where we live are quite lovely.  I haven't spent a lot of time exploring there, but this morning they called to me.

Silver Mine Lake morning mist and rain

After the snow that fell overnight the State park is little populated and a peaceful place to go for a walk.  The fog and mist all help to dampen the sound of what little automobile traffic there is here.  Dripping, melting and running water are the soundtrack, that and the crunch of my boots in the snow.

Silver Mine Lake, snow last night, thick rain today

 I am reminded that I don't have to go far, anywhere at all really, to find beauty and peace and the affirmation of my reasons for gratitude and contentment with my place in life.  Sometimes it's hard to see from the positive side.  Is the lake half frozen or half thawed?  Why want one or the other?  Why not just except that it is both, and neither.