Sunday Seeking Peace

It’s a muggy morning with zero breeze. I had vowed to get out and walk, to connect with Mother Nature, and wasn’t going to let the weather stop me.

I’m glad I kept my vow.  I walked the bridge area to the woods. The Ibis were roosting and it was obviously mating season, as there were many bright displays.

I stopped at a bench that was calling to me. I was thinking a lot about lyrics to a song from yesterday: “Peace will come.” I meditated for a short time on the bench on those words, then took this picture:

Don’t you just love cloud reflections?

I walked into the wooded area and had this thought: why am I saying peace will come? Peace is now.

Then I saw this plaque next to a bench, something I had not seen before:

I smiled at myself. What else do I need? I have the present moment. I walked, touching all the palm fronds along the path, reaching for waxy leaves and feathery vines. A cache of butterflies fluttered over my head. I was sweaty and mosquito-bitten when I returned to my car, but no matter.  I had kept my promise and was reminded once more that being one with nature is all it’s cracked up to be!

Full Ocean You

 A caboose poem, using the last line of Mary Oliver’s essay “Ropes” as the first line of my poem.

Break the ropes that are holding you

The ones that tell you to resist

The ones that tell you not to trust your intuition

Break the ropes of the way you fall into routine habits that don’t serve

The fight inside against the world you see

Understand it’s all perception

Change your view!

Break the ropes tying you to the false safety of the shore

And become full ocean you

Casting

 Carried by a strong current,

you and the others with you 

seem to be making decisions, 

but you’re not.

(Rumi “Thorn Witness”)

The Long Leg (1930) Edward Hopper

Why did this line reach out to me and not let go?

Maybe I am just moving to the currents of the Universe.

And it only seems like I have a modicum of power.

*

I read Mary Oliver’s essay “Blue Pastures” 

which essentially is about the ocean.

And she details all types of fish caught, 

describes them and her experiences.

The casting, the cleaning, the ultimate meal.

The bulbous body of a floating ocean sunfish.

She seemed to be carried by the 

strong current of sharing this information.

*

Yesterday I had to take Jim to Lee Memorial for a procedure.

I consciously saw each person we encountered as a golden light.

I blessed them as they walked the halls

Worked the desks. Pushed the wheelchairs.

No, I didn’t decide to cast my vote for this current situation.

Someone else cast me in this role.

The best I can do is cast a little love and light along the way.

Smooth the path a bit for myself and others.

Prayer Trail

 This morning I decided it was time to make a trip to Six Mile Cypress Slough. I honestly cannot recall the last time I was there. I had an idea to take a small journal with me and stop along the walk and write short prayers. But once I got there, I decided I didn’t want to carry the notebook, so I decided to use voice memo on my phone. Each stop I recorded something and took a photo. Very often it was the photo I wanted to take that motivated the prayer. Other times, it was the location.

I didn’t get there as early as I usually do, and the place was already busy with many bird-watchers and 0photographers. Still, I managed to have some quiet moments to reflect and record.

Enjoy my little prayer trail, each word as I recorded it.

Morning at the slough.

I just took a picture of the sun reflecting on the water,

The trees are reflecting

It’s right at the entryway

Absolutely beautiful.

My prayer here is that I may mirror love in the world.

I’m at the lake now…tall grasses all around here, very tall.

I can’t even say I remember the grasses being so tall here.

The dry season hasn’t been all that dry, so I think that’s why.

There’s a cormorant, but I don’t see a lot else.

The breeze is coming at me…now it’s a wind.

I just feel like everything is wide open.

For a while it felt like things were closing in on me, but they’re not.

I’m as wide open as this lake, a breeze blowing across me. 

That’s prayer wind.

Walking on the boardwalk

I’m just realizing

I really needed this.

Period.

Everything feels so green.

Well, it is green…

Anyway, absolutely gorgeous morning,

Cool, humid, and wonderful.

Criss-cross

The way this tree looked when I came around the bend

Criss-crossing and wrapping around things and bumping into things

It’s exactly how I’ve been feeling lately.

Very representative!

Maybe I don’t always feel wide open and green!

Looking up.

Looking for God.

Reaching for God.

What is the slough without the sounds?

I liked the call this bird was making and how off in the distance, 

another bird was answering.

That is a certain kind of prayer.

Alone.

I arrived at the Pop Ash Pond, and I get be here by myself,

Without a bunch of bird-watchers and photographers.

Feels nice to breathe and be alone here.

Breathing in contemplation with nature is the best kind of prayer.

“presiding over all those miracles”

Winding backwards on a morning walk at my local beach, I am thinking of this Billy Collins poem:

 

Dogma

I might be an atheist

were it not

for all the tall angels

and the pudgy cherubs

in the silvery clouds

presiding over all those miracles.

While driving, I saw ice rainbows in the clouds....

Tall angels in the form of osprey....

Pudgy cherubs in sunrise clouds…

Pudgy cherubs in the silvery cloud reflections…

 So many dragonflies...this one posed for me, then flew on...

I find my broken tree, drop my shell in, and speak out loud that God and I will always preside 

over these miracles together.

The Return

 The day I’ve waited for finally came today. I was able to return to Bunche Beach in the early morning hour.

I found myself breathing deeper than I have in a while. I couldn’t take enough pictures! So delighted to be among the sand and gently lapping waves and shorebirds skittering the edges, the newly lit Sanibel Island Lighthouse blinking from across the bay. Sunlight streaked the sky as I made my way down to the point, the place I always go, seashell in hand, to my prayer tree. I had no idea if it would be there. 

It was! Battered quite a bit, but now with an even bigger hole to slip my prayer shell.

It was a homecoming.

On the way back I found a place where someone had drawn a circle. I drew a heart within it to represent my return…with love. 

Between the Branches

 [Note: Sunday morning I arrived at Six Mile Cypress Slough, read David Whyte’s poem “The Thicket,” walked and meditated and took photos, wrote this, and then added quotes from Whyte’s poem in italics.]

I took my meditation to the slough…

free and observant

Contemplated the nature of all things being evolutionary and revolutionary…

surveying the tiny stages and the curtained dramas

Such as the Spanish moss hanging from tree branches…

 every further stage of vision leading me back to smaller and smaller worlds

The Pilated Woodpecker busy on his branch, finding breakfast, preening himself…

Always two realities…action or non-action.

never leave the branching world...a kind of enclosed womb-like eternity

What changes things?

Ideas. Curiosity. Faith.

The trees are both able to be touched and observed in a watery mirror.

Is the reflection telling the truth? 

searching between the branches... the knowledge of some immanence

When it was time to leave, the sun in the Cypress pond lit the way…

 

brought clarity to silence, set me to grow

Heart lifted. Exhilarated. A quiet mind.

Taking all the necessary actions

To meet the revolution.

Today Felt Wonderfully Normal

 Today I met my dear friends Laurie and Annmarie at Six Mile Cypress Slough for some nature listening and writing.  I was inspired by Richard Blanco before making the trip, and used the end of his poem "American Wandersong" for my format.

For now: Gorgeous day -- low to mid 70s right now and breezy. Dew point in the 60s.

For now: Deep gratitude that I am in this place to take this time. Felt impossible over the past many weeks.

For now: The breeze ruffles my hair and I hear my friends' gentle laughter.

For now: Thinking about the Days of Mindfulness I spent here, and thinking how Julia Cameron calls it "heartfulness."  Distant hawk calls. The breeze wraps around me. I can hear the traffic on the other side of the lake and rookery.

For now: I've come to understand the water is higher than it should be and this is upsetting the ecology. Must be why I'm not hearing the nightly frog chorus. Off to the southwest I hear a whistling bird -- Laurie says it sounds like a creaking playground swing.

For now: An alligator draped across the log, limp, tail curled to catch the sunlight; hawk calling out across the Slough.

For now: A Limpkin picks his way through the water, lifting his legs high and pacing in between the trees.

For now: White feather floats in the clear water, bright green salvinia touching its edges.

For now: I came. I listened. I wrote.

The Ingredients: Year in Review in Photos

Yesterday my dear friend Laurie shared a piece of writing she did from an inspiration she received: to identify peak moments of the past year in photos. In any year, this would be an awesome activity. But for 2020, it presented a lot more challenges.

My initial feeling was that I didn't have many photos from the year, and certainly not ones that represented the themes suggested. It made me feel weird, but I kind of accepted it.

Then today I picked up my morning inspirational read, which is Instructions to the Cook: A Zen Master's Lessons in Living a Life That Matters by Bernie Glassman.  The book uses cooking as a metaphor for how to live a Zen life. I already know that the ingredients I use for living a Zen life are whatever I have in front of me. The job of "the cook" is to use what is available.

Today I read this line:

 The clarity of our vision determines the set of ingredients in front of us.

My mind went immediately to the photos. I thought, hmmm, maybe I didn't look at "my ingredients"with clarity of vision. Maybe there was more there than I initially thought.

Then I recalled some events early in the year that I had not seen in my photo library.  Sure enough -- it was because I had moved them to amazon photos and deleted them off my phone to save storage.

Now I was inspired.

Here is my Year in Review in Photos. I have made one change: instead of "something new I tried," I put in "something I discovered" that was very meaningful. 

Thanks a million, Laurie!

 

HIGHLIGHT OF THE YEAR: In a year where frequenting a restaurant became an act of bravery, it was wonderful to think back to that Saturday in February many of us from the SJA Class of 1973 met at an Amish restaurant in Sarasota. It was a beautiful day, and we had a wonderful meal and reunion. What made this the highlight, though, was that my childhood friend Maureen Kelly McCauley happened to be in Florida at the time and sat across from me. We had a great talk about writing. In less than two months I was able to invite her into a writing group, which has been a godsend for all of us during this turbulent year.

 

MEANINGFUL MOMENT:  On January 12 my husband suffered a small stroke, and spent a couple of days in the hospital. This picture was taken when he was dressed and waiting to get discharged. I took it to send to his son to show him his dad was doing well. This event has changed our view of the future, but I am so glad he is doing well and that it was only mild.

 

SOMETHING DISCOVERED: Early in the summer my brother texted me asking me if I could send him any photos of his wife through the years, as he was putting together a 40th Anniversary gift for her. I was happy to have an excuse to go through all my pictures, and it was a wonderful journey. But by far the best thing that came out of it was discovering three photos of my dad from his youth that I had completely forgotten I had. It even took me a while to realize how they got here! Eventually I recalled that I had gotten these copies made from pictures my sister had, and I had stored them in a picture folder for safe transport from Ohio to Florida. Then I promptly forgot I even had them. I absolutely love this one because he is in the height of happiness, as he always was with his saxophone.

 

FEELING PROUD: When my nephew entered middle school at Cypress Lake, he became involved in playing the trombone, and it became a real passion for him. When they moved away, I was sorry I would no longer be able to attend his band concerts. But, as we know from 2020, livestreams became the new way to participate from afar, and I was absolutely thrilled to watch the holiday band concert from Pickerington North High School on my television in December. The band director made me proud to be a teacher, as he is doing an absolutely incredible job against all odds, and the music brought me to tears more than once. Ricky made me proud, as he always does, through his dedication to music. (And for those who don't know, he is my dad's namesake!)

 

FEELING CONNECTED: After several weeks of barely leaving the house, on April 29th the beaches of Lee County opened again. I got myself right to my closest beach -- Bunche -- and was not ready for the overwhelming feeling I had being able to be there again. Very quickly I felt reconnected to nature and my community and the world and myself! 

 

MAKES ME SMILE: A few years ago, I purchased Nemo and Dory stuffed animals for my classroom. They have become team builders and buddies to my students through the year. When our school closed in March, I was not able to go back in the building until May. When I did, Nemo and Dory were waiting for me, and I realized then how much they meant to my classroom. So it was upsetting when a student accidentally threw Nemo on the roof of the school when they were playing outside as a reward for work well done. To make matters worse, it was a Friday and over the weekend there were torrential rains. Friends rallied me to see if I could get the admin to rescue Nemo -- but somehow he managed to rescue himself!  Two teachers found him sitting on a bench in another part of the building, soaking wet, but still smiling. It was a miracle for sure! I have no idea how he got off the roof and on to the bench, but I'm sure glad he did.

MOMENT SHARED WITH LOVED ONE: Actually, I suppose it was the whole day. Given the situation at the beginning of the year with the stroke, and then the months of hibernating from COVID, Jim and I were finally able to pull ourselves out of the house and have a little adventure on my birthday in August. It isn't every day a person turns 65, and I just couldn't let it go. That, and the fact that school had been pushed back -- otherwise I would have been at school. So we headed out to Sanibel on a blazing hot day, ate lunch at Schnappers Hots, then visited Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge, a place we hadn't been together in over a decade. The day brought so much relief and peace and togetherness. It was the most perfect way to celebrate a special day, which probably would not have happened if it had been a normal year. 

 

 

 

 

 

Enduring Advice on a Birthday Week (7 Lines/7 Days #12)

 #108Weeks

 August 2-8, 2020

 

"If you're going to pray, don't worry. If you're going to worry, don't pray."

 Not sure exactly why, but fear has flown away. I'm sure whatever happens is all in Divine Order.

I am feeling positive this will take us to the place we need to be.

"Do everything as if it's your last time doing it."

I will know what to do when it is time to do it.

Going back through my journals and papers has helped me see part of me -- some I don't like too much -- but it definitely was a worthwhile project. I feel better about everything because of it.

"Just keep swimming."

Power Spot

I discovered a new power spot today.

I first learned of power spots from Danaan Perry in his book Warrior of the Heart. It’s a place in nature where you can sit uninterrupted and preferably unseen.

This new spot is in Lakes Park. I had another spot there at one time, but when they did maintenance on the walking path they took out the vegetation that kept me hidden.

I was delighted to find this spot today in the marsh area, with a smoothed out limestone rock to sit on. A place to go to gather my inner power, think, and pray.

😊

62. Everything Connecting

#64Challenge

Inspired by Joy Harjo's poem "I Am Not Ready to Die Yet."


I am seeing clear connections between everything happening in the universe: the events, the things I am reading, the things I am listening to, the things I feel compelled to write.

This poem fits into my #64Challenge because the last week of our school year in Lee County was a volatile one across the nation. I have witnessed tense word exchanges between colleague. I have read the comments by my students of the past, many who are actively protesting. I cannot help but be thoughtfully moved by it all, and I know I need to use it as the ground for moving forward.

Everything connecting.

Today I carry the desire to live a life as one who will be open to the stories of others, to listen for the truth, to not be swayed by useless rhetoric and grandstanding.

Today I carry the desire to live a classroom life as one who will help others identify and tell their stories, rather than allow someone else define and write them. 

Today I carry the desire to live as an example of one who gathers the knowledge of the past, bringing it into the present, and examining all angles with an unflinching eye.

Today I carry the desire to live a life of non-judgment. Everything I need to know is in the person in front of me. They are the key to heaven.

Today I carry the desire to live a life where words matter. I can see the frames used to justify fear and inflammation. What I need are words that heal and promote growth.

Today I carry the desire to live a life of these choices and pray, in some small way, a few tiny ripples can reach another shore.

Wa-Ke Hatchee Lullaby

I like reflecting on how things fall into place, how synchronicity plays a role in our actions, and how connections are made.

This is one of those stories. My poem will follow.

Yesterday I woke up and became aware of a "blackout" day. It was a relief to me, since I felt a deep need to retreat. I wrote a poem about it. I avoided social media. And I took care of myself.

As part of my retreat, I decided to take a walk at a local park and look for signs and symbols and messages that might help me through this highly unusual time. The park I chose is down the street from me, the name having historical significance:

Wa-Ke Hatchee Park takes its name from a combination of Native American names combining "cow" and "water." A creek that cuts through the property was an important watering hole for Florida cowboys as the last source of fresh water for their cattle as they headed to Punta Rassa for shipment to Cuba. 

I found what I was looking for at the park (explained in the poem), and used my Animal Medicine (Native American) book to discern what the message was. The overarching theme: Don't give in to illusions.

Always good advice. 

Then today my dear friend and writing partner Laurie put up a prompt to use a golden line from a song as a starter for a poem of our own. I had just listened to David Bowie's Hunky Dory, and knew I'd go back to his song lyrics. I still recall how taken I was with Bowie's lyrics on this album when I discovered him as a senior in high school. One great songwriter.

Finally, a word on the title. There is singer/songwriter I have had the pleasure of hearing perform, and the good fortune of participating in his songwriting workshops at the Sanibel Island Writer's Conference.  His name is Dan Bern, and one of my favorite songs by him is called "Albuquerque Lullaby." Immediately after writing this poem, which uses Bowie lyrics to open and close, I knew I wanted to call it "Wa-Ke Hatchee Lullaby."  But I didn't know why. It was a poem about NOT going to sleep.

So I looked up the meaning of lullaby, discovering it can be a song used to pass down cultural knowledge, to expand communication skills, and to regulate behaviors. I had no idea! Sometimes our heart knows things that we haven't consciously processed yet.

The opening of this poem is from Bowie's song "Oh, You Pretty Things." The ending is from "Fill Your Heart."

Wa-Ke Hatchee Lullaby

"Look out my window, what do I see

A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me"

to give me a shake from my complacency

The world slowed down this spring

and learned to breathe

And those who let it transform them

didn't need any weapons or superior power

Discovering that this is a time to look beyond

what we normally see -- to stop, look, and listen

to the pain of hundreds of years

designed by those who relish weapons and superior power

Who believe in only one way to get it

Yet it appears we've reached the hour.

I walked where the Wa-Ke Hatchee once quenched the thirst 

of those on the road

hoping to quench a thirst of my own

I saw Turtle, Dragonfly, Crow

with their wise messages for me

Ask for assistance and abundance will flow

Break down the illusions that restrict actions and ideas

Let personal integrity be your guide

Marinating in these words for a night and day

illusions began to drop away

a way forward is what I now see

"Gentleness clears the soul

Love cleans the mind and makes it free."

Final note: I went to find a video for "Fill Your Heart" and learned it is not a Bowie composition, but was written by Biff Rose and Paul Williams. Bowie did compose "Oh You Pretty Things."

Enjoy!

55. Stand in the Waterfall

#64Challenge

Yesterday I revisited a blog I set up called "Courageous Conversations," and found an essay I wrote about technology and education and being more aware of my students beyond the electronic data.

In it was a quote from Michael Meade:

A teacher has to stand in the waterfall with her students.

Somehow, I think I have found the water.

After writing about being a Joshua Tree in the desert, sustained only by hope and strength, being patient waiting for the flowers and the fruit, the game of slow change, I suddenly don't feel so dry.

My tears carried me here.

I cried a lot last Monday when I closed up my classroom. Then there was a photo and a video and emails and even a phone call with Hyundai about our car lease.

Tears. Tears. Tears.

Water carrying me.

It took a long time to see how to get across the technology and reach my students. Doesn't seem like it should be difficult, but I didn't know how to "stand in the waterfall" with them if I wasn't in front of them.

I'm realizing ways.

It's the phone calls directly to their cell phones. It's the texts. It's helping them through an assignment.

It's with my creative writers as I see them working out their own healing through a poem they have written. Some are downright heart wrenching. Yet, I can't help but think -- would this have risen up if we were in a classroom writing together, where the presence of others can intimidate?

Maybe. Maybe not.

I don't feel dry anymore. I'm finding the water.

And it's through writing, writing, writing. And the little reach out questions. Text me your favorite place to eat. Your favorite place to go. Answer the survey: who is better, Nemo or Dory?

Human touches. Seeing them. A small kind of listening.

Emoji smiles and hearts back. So much more personal than in the classroom.

This work matters.

I have seen where we are headed in the fall, with a lot more technology used in classes. I am not against it. But, this is teaching me that pieces of humanity need to stay intact. A simple question. A quick write. A poem read aloud.

Before I set them on a computer path, I want them to know I see them.

I want them to see me.

I've been feeling more seen these days, something I did not expect at all.

Refreshed.

I told my AP during my evaluation that I was well aware this time will provide new insights in how to teach. I don't know what they all are yet, but I'm getting an inkling.

This work matters. No matter where I am, no matter how near or far, I am their teacher.

I will stand in the waterfall with them.

P.S. As I was finishing this piece, this song was on my playlist. I didn't know why, but it seemed to fit  here perfectly.  Then I watched the video and all I could think was wow -- the energy here is so much like a middle school classroom!  It made me laugh.

Walking in a Different Direction Part Two: Lakes Park

Today I finally did it. I pulled myself out of the house, into the absolutely perfect Florida May weather, and took a walk at Lakes Park. I know I have not been there in a long time, and I went with the purpose to do my usual loop through the woods.

Lone Palm Morning

I expected the usual Sunday crowd, but the people were few and far between. The pavilions and play areas are roped off, the exercise equipment fenced off, and the picnic tables overturned.


When I got there I changed my idea of where I wanted to walk. I decided to walk around the lake, rather than go into the wooded area. Very quickly I realized something -- when I have walked around the lake, I tend to start in the same place and walk in the opposite direction than I was walking this morning. And as I wrote about a few weeks ago, I was seeing a lot of things I haven't noticed before, getting glimpses of photo opportunities I rarely see.

Ibis Island

Walking Toward the Rising Sun

I had made up my mind just to walk and listen and watch. What I witnessed was a wildlife that is getting used to fewer humans. I could feel the lack of human dominance I usually associate with the park. (And that is with good reason: it's a wonderful park!)

One instance of this was a Little Green Heron that looked like it was going to walk across the path I was walking. I never see Herons doing that there, let alone the elusive Little Green. I trained my camera on him, but he stopped and eventually flew off.

Anhinga Rock

I took a few more pictures, then headed home with my sun roof open. The radio played a song that made me cry: Jerry Salley's "I Want to Thank You." It made me think about all the people in my life who encourage my faith and belief in myself and the goodness of the world.  It was a perfect way to begin my day.

Great Blue Heron Detail

Great Blue Heron Wide View