She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Friday, March 31, 2006

Mud Flats and All That

Bright sunlight and a warm breeze embraced me
As I left my car behind to walk along the Mohawk River at lunch.

My secret little path through the woods along the backwaters gives me a passing glimpse of many feathered friends:

Blue Jay
Palliated Woodpecker
Downey Woodpecker
Tufted Titmouse
Mallard Ducks
Lesser Scaup
Canada geese
Green winged teal
Purple Finch
Rufus Sided Towhee
Slate Colored Junko
Song Sparrow
Purple Martin

Will all be added to my list of sightings for this season

River levels are controlled by man - and man wants her waters to be low today...
Not uncommon this time of year - heavy rains, expected at anytime - somewhere along the river can cause her to rise up and spill over her banks.
Dropping the water level helps to controls these spring floods - should the rains come in such inundating volume
The silent river broods and bides her time, waiting to show man just who controls who...

The low level of the water exposes long shiny mudflats and I was hoping to spot some shorebirds, but the waders had other ideas. Perhaps they had a meeting planned?

A chorus of birdsong, stunningly beautiful, surrounds me as I reach the bikepath...

Up and down the long grey asphalt ribbon spandex clad rollerbladers and cyclists weave in and out among scattered walkers and joggers.

I perceive that behind their expensive sunglasses and headphones they are enjoying something more like a show - than an experience; that they are missing the song which surrounds me - a rare and beautiful song - replacing it with some song made in the studio - which they could listen to in the car or at home.

The consequences of isolation from the world that sustains them - from each other
Buying into the false notion that because they are out there - they are a part of it all

How sad - to deem yourself healthy - while being so disconnected from Mother Earth's love

In the wet mud I spotted tracks coming from the water and correctly identified them as those of a snapping turtle.
Not bad considering I had to do this from 200 feet away - through my Binoculars...
I followed them as best I could with my eyes, up the embankment and through the woods. Then I saw her -
A large snapper - about four feet long laying her eggs with a sense of patience only a mother would understand.
She knows that in this moment - she is the future.
She is connected - she has always been connected...

Purple finches were bickering noisily in the brush. Bickering over mates, and I wonder if they feel something like the jealousy that can paralyze me so at times...
"Go away! She's mine!"
"I saw her first!"
"Well she doesn't want you anyway - she likes me better!"
"No she doesn't!"
"Can't you see we're nesting here? - move along!"

Meanwhile out on the River the Green Winged Teal and the Mallards are all paired up and peacefully feeding in the shallows which man has inadvertently provided while waiting for the spring rains to come.


Tuesday, March 28, 2006


With a whistling of white wings
She takes the season, and is gone
Slow and ponderous was the look she gave all summer

But soon only memories will remain
Of warm days and of rain
Like the fast fading golden glow of a crisp autumn sunset
Over the stubble fields on the stubborn hills
Stripped of corn the crows come to gather and glean

Far above the fields the phalanx flies
Transcending long grey bars
Stained with rose, gold and amber hue
Southward now points the living wedge

A peace falls
Awaiting white blankets of November
The autumn fields are sleeping...

Please do not disturb them
As you go about your wintry business


Friday, March 24, 2006

A Seasonal Respite

Cold dry arctic air
Having had it's day
Struggles with warm, restless tropic mists
Tired of sunny beaches and humid forests

The warm and moist air drives northward
Wants in

Confrontation is inevitable
And the predetermined outcome
Does not dismay the challenge

The conflict plays itself out

Snowstorms makes way for the Thunderstorms...
Gentle rains and broken sunshine through the clouds
Rainbows and an abundance of growth
Are the consequences

Spring awakens - for the seasons sake
Leaf stem and flower
This is their time

But beware the chill frost
With a cold glance backwards
From behind the Arctic circle

I'll be back she whispers
I'll be back

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Listening to the River

All was quiet on the Mohawk river today

So I actually took some time to listen to her
She chastised me for being away for so long

And as I repented it occurred to me that the water is separate from the river bed
The river remembers me - and I remember it
But the water is always changing
The water remembers everything and every place it has ever been...

The river bed lingers - shaped by the water but retaining its own underlying character
A glimpse of which can be seen as it emerges on either shore

The river told me to look up...
And when I did there was the Eagle cruising by -
With his mighty wingspan of eight feet
That got the ducks quacking, the geese squawking and the gulls crying

He made three passes right in front of me, so close I might have touched him if I thought such a thing were permissible - exciting!

My spirit soared for a moment - and I longed to commune with him - and hear his story
But the Eagle was in haste - tracking the river for fish and listening for his mate

The woman with the dog came running up to me to ask if that was a Bald Eagle she just saw
I liked her - leash in hand - dog running free
I liked her dog too - and he graciously allowed me to scratch his head for a moment

The woman may not have known it - but the Eagle had touched her spirit as well - for I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice


What made her think I would know?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

The Ant

Moments of quiet contemplation
A quiet place - alone
My thoughts are with me

As I sit and wrap myself in my thoughts
I become as one with the world
I love being in this place-
The Earth understands me
And I understand her
And she always reassures me that I have a place here

Introspective - is nice but
We are never really alone

I sense that my space is not all my own
I see the ant come blundering along
Is she lost, or on some mission?

My current state of enlightenment allows me to gain some perspective
I can almost see with my own eyes the chemical trail she puts down - to remind herself where she has been
Others will follow if she returns
Her mission a success

Her family has sent her forth to explore
Ten thousand identical sisters on similar missions await her return
A brooding Queen mother will know what to do
With the information she brings back
If she returns...

For I also perceive in this moment
That to her family she is expendable
Cruel thinking to a human - perhaps
But a strategy that works - for the ants

Should her journey end in tragedy
She will dutifully leave a chemical message
For any that may follow
I got Squashed! Danger! Go back!

As I contemplate her demise
My mind touches for a brief moment
All the times we humans have sent our children out into the world - as expendable
The great journey of Man
The Ancient migration
From Africa we came

Yet we populated the Earth quite quickly
And discovered the ice caps - the deserts - the moon - even the bottom of the deepest ocean
And the prospect of "expendable" seems like a good strategy
For man as well as for ants

Yet we also send our children as expendable
To great conflicts
Fighting wars - over territory - over resources and over who's god is best to believe in
While All the Gods weep for the ignorance of their children

This Ant had parents
As did I
A C G T -
the genetic components of life
We have these in common as well

Both the ant and I represent the end of a chain of life
Chains that tie us together - back to the beginning
We even have a link in common back there somewhere

As these thoughts run through my mind
The Ant now scurries across my open hand
alarmed perhaps, by this sudden change in fortune

And as I head toward my back door
I think to myself
Expendable? - perhaps
But not this ant
Not this day
Not by me

So I open the door
Step outside
So that she may continue her mission
In a small way her mission is my mission
For She is my sister

Thank you mom

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Inside Out

At some point everything is simple
It's hard - yes
But simple just the same

Tell me this won't seem like the last time
Sitting around waiting
For the next time

You know I'm trying to think
While trying not to think

I seek concession from the inside out
Concession from the inside out
Inside out

It's hard - yes
But Simple just the same


Zenspace is where I confront my innerself
This is part of my ongoing quest to understand who I am
And make peace