Earth From Sky II

Traveler

saw the earth

from the back of
a silver eagle,
looking down
on water

dotted with
islands
blue and green,
tall mountain peaks
arising
like a seer's

 most majestic dream.

From above,

she could see
almost as
far as God,

puffy perfect clouds 
in an infinity of sky,

a limitless horizon
utterly unflawed,
for man to
set his 
fondest aspirations by.

She flew so far

tall coastal mountains
changed to

desert hills,

brown and rounded,
dots of
tumbleweed and sage,
tall sandstone cliffs

lining the arroyo
which have
stood sentinel
for an age,
since a time,
she had
been told,
when this valley
was once

an ancient riverbed,

rushing waters

roaring through here
in bygone days of old.

Traveler,

suspended

between the earth and sky,

protective

celestial sphere above,

patient, steadfast, enduring
earth below,
knows herself a

citizen who can
choose to
walk or fly,

denizen of
no place/every place
she has
ever/never
been,
as well as 
of the
spirit world,
all that remains
unseen.

In the desert,

she sought the memory

of the young girl

she once had
been

in this
now so strangely
unfamiliar land

she was
nowhere to
be seen.
That girl  
now  lives

a world away,
and free,
within the
siren call

of the wild and
western sea.

When she
returned to earth,
long would she
remember
the sight of earth
from sky,
distant and flawless
as an
untouched dream,
as if
nothing bad
could mar
a vision
of perfection
so beautiful
that so far
only God
has seen.

Spirit Bear of the Great Bear Rainforest

Hi kids,
The Spirit Bear or Kermode or moskgm'ol white bear lives in the spectacularly beautiful and wild northern coastal regions of B.C. Recently, the Nature Conservancy campaigned to protect this area. They succeeded in having five million acres of the Great Bear Rain Forest protected from logging. 19 million more are under strict land management guidelines, called ecosystem based management. (I wish EVERY place was under ecosystem based management.)

Aboriginal peoples attach great significance to the appearance of these white creatures, whether bears, buffalo calves, lions and others, believing they appear as a spiritual message to humankind to protect what is being destroyed. They believe  these creatures carry mystical, prophesied and vitally important messages, in an effort to wake us from our lethargy in the face of the destruction of the natural world.

We are living with the results of this lethargy now, and continue sleeping at our peril.

The White Lions of Timbavati

[photo by D Byrd, google images]

The white lions

of Timbavati

are wandering

through my dreams.

Sent by the Sun God,

their appearance prophesied

by shamans of old,

they are considered sacred,

the embodiment

of the link

between lion and man

from the days when

they shared caves,

and lion offered itself

to man to eat,

as a gift,

when otherwise

he would have

surely

perished.

Murdering such

sacred beings is,

of course,

unthinkable,

but when they appeared,

according to prophecy,

in the 1970's,

being rare,

they were hunted

almost to extinction.

In this way did

man repay

lions

for the gift of

his survival,

so disconnected

have we become

from the deep

interconnectedness

of man, beast and planet.

We turn from this

vital symbiosis

at our peril.

Meanwhile,

the white lions

of Timbavati

are all gone

and our souls,

even if we don't know it,

weep for their loss.

Earth from Sky

[image from flickr.com]

Hi Kids,
The flight was quite wonderful yesterday, the first leg taking only ten minutes to hop across Georgia Strait to Vancouver, the second leg taking about 45 minutes, down into the Okanagan with its brown hills and desert-like scenery.

From above, I looked down into the heart of a mountain range, tall snow-capped peaks, crevasses, canyons under the layer of clouds we were flying through. As we neared Penticton, I was happy to see bowls of rain water nestled in the crooks and crannies at the tops  of the rounded hills. It was reassuring to know that, at least at this time of year, the wildlife in the high mountains will have water to drink.

There are wild horses here, lots of deer, rabbits, mountain goats. And yesterday we actually saw a man walking his llama along the side of the road, like a giant dog.

Having a lovely relaxed visit with Jon and Zenny, who are treating me like royalty. I will post photos of my trip on return home. And hopefully come up with some new poems.

Tomorrow we will go visit my last remaining aunt and uncle, their grandchild and her new baby.

When I get home, the push will be on to accomplish my move at the end of June. Down sizing is the operative word and that will be a good divesting of Stuff I no longer need (if, in fact, I ever did).

Thanks for hanging in. Will be home Monday and back in the saddle again.

The Wisdom Keepers

[image from groundframe.com]

The Wisdom Keepers

are guardians

of The Wild,

their ancient knowledge

passed on orally

since ever there was

man, woman 

and shaman.

Because mankind

has departed

so far from

The Way,

some of them

are now revealing

the truth

of what they know,

to lead us back

to the path

from which

we've strayed,

towards

a better world

than the one

we've made.

Wherever they have been,

they have left behind

a trail of song,

and knowledge

of this ancient world

to which we all

belong.

I am off this morning, kids, to see the view from the top of the world. Like an astronaut I will look down on ocean, lakes and rivers, tall steepled mountains changing to round desert hills as the plane heads inland. My heart is full of wonder already, at the very thought of seeing this beauty from above. The earth's beauty always blisses me out, at the same time breaking my heart, at the thought of how Mother Nature is struggling because of the excesses of this last hundred years. However, today I will try to focus on the beauty -- remembering that the planet itself will endure, no matter what. It is mankind's future that remains in question.

Have a great weekend, everyone, and I will report back on Monday!

A Box of Chocolates

They were married
over sixty years,
and she was in her nineties
when she told me,
musingly,
"I always thought
he was in love
with his secretary."

I protested,
"But your marriage
was so wonderful!"

I didn't want it
to be true,
was fairly certain
it wasn't true.

But she
shook her head,
and continued.
"I looked in
his desk drawer
one Christmas.
It was the 30's
and we had
no money.
And there was
a box of chocolates
in the drawer.
They were for her.
I know he admired her.
She was
calm and professional,
well-dressed and
unflustered,
and at home
I was often angry,
struggling to manage
all those kids
and put food on the table."

They stayed together
to the end.
We looked to them
as a model
of what marriage
could be.
They were both
the very soul
of propriety.

But was he happy?
She made me
wonder,
that day,
talking about
that box of chocolates.

Flying

[image from google]

Traveler

is packing

her kit bag

with gifts and necessities.

She is readying

her walking stick,

and calculating

how many

books

to carry along.

She has been

putting off

this trip

for too long:

too busy,

too many crises,

too tired.

But now

it is Time.

The plane

is on

the tarmac.

It is revving

its engines.

The windows

are ready

for cloud-gazing,

and for seeing

breath-taking

mountain ranges

from above,

and little tiny towns
small as a

 children's game.

Her eyes

are lifting up,

up,

from the minutiae

of daily existence

to beyond

the horizon,

where vision

expands

to the infinity

of possibilities

one life

can hold,

if we only

knew it

soon enough.

Soon,

very soon,

she will be

Flying.

Notes: I actually am making a quick trip by plane this coming weekend to see my son and daughter-in-law, Jon and Zenny, as well as my aunt and uncle. I havent flown since 1998 and, when I did, was transfixed by the sight of huge mountain ranges below, as beautiful as the Himalayas. I couldnt believe my fellow passengers were reading their newspapers, ho-hum. I could not take my eyes from the window.

So I am looking forward to that trip. But the words hold a double meaning, as my life is currently rearranging itself and creating change, as it seems to do every decade. I have felt the change coming, and have been readying myself for it. Change should bring more ease of spirit, as well as more time to write, and so I mean the flying analogy metaphorically, as well.

Chloe ~ Baby Album

Here is my youngest, Stephanie, with her boy, Chase

 

and my newest grandbaby, Chloe.

This is The Middle Child, Sanchez, looking bummed because Chloe

has commandeered his bed and his stuffies. Not impressed:)

But he lets her use him for a pillow, anyway.

He's my brudda!

First time out in the big wide world.

First Sunday hike in the woods. Gord is bringing up the rear.

Legs are too little to keep up with the Big Guys.

Chloe's First Stick!

She appears to love dandelions!

I'm TIRED, Mom! Can we go home now?

The adorable Little Man Chase

If God Was One of Us

[Downtown Vancouver's East Side

image from Google]

I saw this Carry On Tuesday prompt: If God were one of us, taken from Joan Osborne's song "One of Us", on a friend's site, and the words began to play in my mind.

If God was

one of us,

He would be walking

among the homeless

in Downtown's East Side,

handing out sandwiches

and blankets.

If He were

one of us,

he would be

ladling soup

into bowls

from gigantic pots

at the soup kitchen,

and when His shift

was finished,

he would take

leftovers to

men wasting away

from AIDS,

alone,

on single cots

in dingy, depressing

cheap hotel rooms

along East Hastings.

If God

were among us,

He would

visit the women's

transition house,

and tell

the young mothers

they deserve

a life of

not being beaten.

And He would tell

their children

that mommy

was going to be

all right and everything, now,

was going to be okay.

He would stop by

the children's ward

in the hospital

and rock the babies

born on crack

and make the pain

go away.

And He'd share

smiles and stories

with the children

battling cancer,

and He'd tell them

they were beautiful

even without their hair.

If God

were among us,

He would sing sweetly

into the ears of

the passed out addicts,

and remind them

life can have beauty,

song and worth,

if they want it

more than

the drugs,

and that He'll

help them

find the strength.

And He would

visit the schools

in the poorest

part of town

and tell the children

that any dream

they dream,

they can achieve,

if they work hard

and believe.

And he'd tell them

a little  boy

called Obama

did it

and they can

do it, too.

At the end

of His busy day,

He would sit

on a bench

in the sun, smiling

at all the people

passing by,

listening to

street musicians

share their gifts.

He'd throw a toonie

in their guitar case,

and then

amble on.

With His robes,

His sandals,

His long hair,

he'd draw glances:

complicity from

the "freaks" with their long hair,

"My brutha from anutha mutha"

they'd say

and they'd all put up

two fingers:

"Peace, brutha."

When He passed

the schizophrenic man

with filthy matted tangled hair,

horrible raggedy clothes

full of holes,

with his angry ranting-

the man people

cross the street

to avoid -

He would stop,

wait for him to

stop yelling,

then ask him what

he needs.

He might double back

to McDonald's

and bring him back

a Coke and fries.

A man can always use

a Coke and fries,

even if he's too angry

to know it.

It occurs to me

in all of these

imaginings,

that God actually IS

one of us -

any one of us -

who smiles

at someone who needs it,

or hands out sandwiches

and hope to the hopeless,

or shares a laugh

with a lonely dying man.

He is one of us

and in each of us,

any time we do

something kind

just for kindness' sake.

Free the Children

[image from freethechildren.com]

"If we are going to achieve true peace, it is going to have to begin with the children,"  says Craig Kielberger, co-founder, with his brother Marc, of Free the Children.


When Craig was twelve years old, he came across a newspaper article about a boy his age, a child labourer who had been murdered, and was profoundly impacted by the accident of birth which gave him a life of privilege and the other boy a life of hard labour and, ultimately, death.

Craig gathered together twelve of his friends and began the Free the Children movement. He started out by raising funds to build one well in a village in Africa. He traveled there to see the resulting well. That was just the beginning.

His movement soon went global and now does incredible work in the developing world, by empowering young people in North America to get involved, "be the change", and raise funds. Then it applies funds to the Adopt a Village movement, which empowers communities in the developing world to take part in breaking free of poverty. The results are tangible, on-the-ground change, with community members taking part in the transformation.

Craig Kielberger today

Marc Kielberger

Once a year Craig and Marc host a televised inspirational concert to fire up and inspire young people to believe they can make a difference. Craig has shown us, since age twelve,  what one person can do. He now co-directs a thriving international movement with weighty corporate sponsors. But it is to young people that he addresses his message: providing hope, inspiration and a concrete example of what can be achieved when people of good hearts care, and then put that caring into action on the ground.

Here is a quote from his book Free the Children, written when he was still a teenager:

Once past the gates and inside the high stone walls, it was as if the outside world had dropped away. Carved into a granite wall are Gandhi's words:

"Recall the face of the poorest and the most helpless man you have seen and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he be able to gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj or self-rule for the hungry and also spiritually starved millions of our countrymen? Then you will find your doubts and yourself melting away."

With these words alone, (Craig writes), he had said so much. If the leaders of the world would only listen.

I walked slowly along one of the stone paths leading to the eternal flame that marked his cremation site. The black marble base was strewn with flowers, small tokens of the affection in which he is held. A true affection also lay in the hearts of people who could not afford flowers but who knew that the greatest leaders never forgot them - the poor and the helpless.

I remembered the flame later that day when at Kailash's house the family gathered around to offer their prayers.

Kailash put wood shavings and a scattering of herbs into a small metal bowl.

"It is not the fire we worship," he explained. "Fire is a symbol. All of us have a fire within us, but there is a need to ignite it. That fire will help to purify the mind, the heart, the soul."

He sprinkled water around the bowl. "Water is life; the earth is life. We must not waste water; we must not destroy the earth. The whole universe is one, and the creator of the universe is the one god who is almighty, who is merciful. We pray for wisdom and strength so that the entire world is like a family. And whatever we work through our hands should be sacred and good."

Then he struck a match to the contents of the bowl. The fire lit the darkness.

Wild Woman on Karma

The Crone by Shadowolf

Wild Woman

began her life

with a small medicine bundle,

containing only

a feather and a pebble,

to ground her

somewhere between

the earth and sky.

As she lived her life,

this bundle grew heavy,

containing bits of

all of

the people

and the places

and the creatures

she had loved.

By now,

it is

stuffed to bursting

with Memory,

hard-won

Wisdom

and Angst,

(angst for the

remembered moments,

amidst all the shining ones,

that mortify.)

Sometimes

she groans aloud

at those reflected

instances,

when she was

so much less

than what she

should have been.

Yet this is her bundle

to carry -

no way, now,

to toss

those pieces

out.

She must carry it

with her

into the next world,

spend one more

painful

lifetime

burning off

her karmic debt
(as if this lifetime's

burning

wasnt enough!)

She must live

enough times over

to reduce the debt

to that original feather

and pebble,

with which she

started out.

Weather Report

[image from google]

Icebergs are melting,

crumbling into the sea like

icecubes melting

in a simmering

pot of soup.

Polar bears

are swimming for

their supper

as the tundra steams.

Shores are flooding

as the rivers

rise.

Forest fires burn

whole towns

and cannot

be stopped.

Before summer

even begins,

crops dry up

where farms

have slowly turned

into deserts.

The planet is melting,

it's burning up,

and nothing changes.