Canned Hunting - Warning: Offensive to Humane Beings

On the news today, this woman in Montreal who paid $15,000 to volunteer at a supposed sanctuary, later found out the baby lion she had bottle-fed was slated to be killed in what turned out to be a canned hunting compound. She is raising money to return to Africa, buy the lion and take it to a real sanctuary.

"Hunters" pay big bucks to shoot a lion raised in captivity, who is trapped in a compound with no chance of escape. I have come across varying figures these great white hunters happily pay for the privilege of murdering these beautiful and endangered creatures: 3,000 pounds to 30,000 pounds, $40,000........I dont understand it. I could not do such a thing if someone paid me a million dollars.

I discovered online there are now more captive lions in South Africa than in the wild.  The lucky ones are rescued from canned hunting by REAL sanctuaries, which are always desperately under-funded and doing heroic work. 

Researching this, I found out more horrible facts than I wanted to know: how the breeders of captive lions, remove the cubs from the mother early, so she will become fertile again and breed quickly. 

I saw an image, on another film, of a cornered lion being shot by hunters. He knew he could not escape, and courageously lunged forward, meeting the bullets head-on. I will never forget the look in his eyes. 

No words, kids. One more instance of brutal inhumanity and unfathomable horror.

Buddha Land

 Walks Far Woman

Plant your bare feet upon the earth

and take one step,

peaceful, smiling,

 your roots sending tentacles

into the earth.

Find stability, and balance,

knowing your every step,

your every breath,

connects you to the All-That-Is,

as above, so below.

Remember the wholeness 

with which you began 

this journey.

Shape your brokenness

into a sturdy vessel

once again,
for all will be well,
   all will be well,
       all will be exceedingly well.

Feel the wind and the warm summer  rain

on your face,

hear the birdsong in your heart.

Earth and sky,

wind and water,

all belong

to you.

Experience the peace of this one step,

this single moment.

Then, take another,

each step a gift received,

each moment an opportunity

to give.

Walk with joy upon the earth,

pilgrims of a planetary miracle.

It is all

a gift from God,

this world we walk through.

It is all Buddha Land.

A Council for All Beings

worldwildlife.org

Roll Call

Red wolf came, and passenger Pigeon,

and Dodo Bird, all the gone or endangered

came and crowded around in a circle,

the Bison, the Irish Elk waited

silent, the Great White Bear fluid and strong,

sliding from the sea, streaming and creeping

into the gathering darkness, nose down

bowing to earth its tapered head,

where the Black-footed Ferret, paws folded,

stood in the center surveying the multitude

and spoke for us all:  “Dearly beloved,” it said.

              - William Stafford

This came to my inbox this morning and is too beautiful not to share. 

The "Be Careful" Light

google image

With regards to Syria,

the international community

has gone past red,

but has not yet reached green.

We are at what four year old

Sebastian calls

the "Be Careful" light.

We must take care

not to take a step

from which there is 

no turning back,

which would set

the tinderbox of 

the Middle East

aflame.

I think Sebastian

has the right idea.

Steps

After watching the movie

where you could not walk,

could not talk,

lay still within your iron lung,

able to blink only one eyelid,

with which you communicated

your thoughts to the world,

what a miracle it seemed,

getting up, dazed, in the dark theatre,

taking step after step up the aisle, 

out into the falling dusk,

seeing and hearing the aliveness of the city,

legs, arms, breath, eyes, ears,

all working.

You turned my simple footsteps

into a miracle.

Poetry Jam's prompt today is Steps, which made me remember reading, and then seeing the movie, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, about France's Jean-Dominique Bauby. After his stroke at age 42,  Bauby dictated his incredible memoir by blinking his left eyelid, his only working muscle,  for each letter of the alphabet, to an assistant, to spell out his thoughts. He died soon after his book was published.

It definitely put complaining about obstacles to writing in perspective for me.

Orca Beauty ~ Why I love Vancouver Island

Talk about sheer magnificent beauty, hey, kids?

In the Presence of the Sacred

This was written in 1999 as a Tofino writers' group exercise: what kind of tree would you be, if you were a tree? I chose the Hanging Garden Tree, on the Tall Tree Trail on Meares Island. Many life forms grow upon its branches. As a single mother of four, grandmother of four, I could relate to this tree:) The title could also be a response to Jerry Mander's In the Absence of the Sacred. The air in that forest was more holy than any cathedral.

Some of you have read this before, but it popped into my head this morning and I decided to give it another shot........posted for open link at Real Toads

I am Hanging Garden Tree,
my thick trunk hosting
an abundance of life forms,
diverse and vital;
garlanded with root and vine,
with fern and flower,
a universe
within my leafy bower.

I am home to Sky Creatures,
all the winged ones,
Owl and skyhawk,
Murrulet and swallow;
small furry-pawed ones
dart among my branches
and nestle soft within my sleepy hollows.

A thousand fern fronds
drape fringed shawls
along my shoulders,
soft moss, green lichen
and fat mushroom clinging,
climbing vine that wraps itself around me
and, in my hair,
a hundred sparrows, singing.

Myriad insect worlds
I tend and harbor.
I shelter bear and wolf,
am food for deer.
To all Two-Leggeds
who come before me, seeking,
I offer peace
within my
silent arbor.

Young Standing People
upon my branches grow.
They came through me,
nurtured the best I know.
Roots fattened
with the seasons
of my living,
they stretch beyond my reach now,
one by one,
as I support
their separate struggle
towards the sun.

In this the season
of my deep reflection
I'm tired now;
I have endured an age.
At dusk,
Sky Woman comes
serene and sage
to scatter stars
about my weary head,
while Sister Moon
sends me
such perfect dreams
I'm spirit-fed
and morning comes
too soon.

In this grove
we're in
the presence of the sacred:
feeling our shared breath,
tenancy of earth and sky,
interconnected
to all the Four Directions
by the Love
to which we all belong,
under the grace
of a Celestial Eye,
all singers
of a universal song.

Have a great day, kids. Remember to Keep Looking Up!