In the season of waiting....

 

        There was a time when it all seemed so right. Don't we hold dearly to some shred of those hopes, even now? It is the season.

      Jim, with the drum, gone at 27. John, with the camera, gone at 33. Even still they wait with me, through another season of anticipation and watching and the seemingly eternal passion of yearning. Those days on Muncie's South Ebright and Ft Wayne's Rose Lane, Colson Drive, or the cold drafty year in the old farmhouse in Cumberland and the "new" house on Lawnhaven visit again, Christmas ghosts, like snow around the foggy lamp post. 

     With so many of others we've learned to invite losses and disappointments to our hearth. It's a good thing, to remember, to reflect, better even, sometimes, with tears. I think it all gets framed up somehow in a hall of time. We deck the halls, with joys of the past. We sip melancholy, we wade into time, and smile at old dreams. 

    We get to an age when those missing from our table, or those who are slowly departing somehow fill us with feeling, a muted trumpet, crying. The young fill us with cheer and kindle our aging imaginations.

    Those who celebrate this as a holy season lean into the circular, recurring nature of it all. More than catharsis, it is like the birth we celebrate. This season is a cosmic in-breaking, a moment poignant, which scatters. Past, present, future fuse, and then go again to their own places in the unconditional, the unending, that beyond the names we give it.

    We wait, all of us, for a spark, that moment when everything truly is right. Out of it, we come away, again, with another shred of hope, held dearly. It gets us by. 

    I live on a ridge along the Santa Lucia mountains, a coastal range that nestles our village between the rocky bluffs of the Pacific. There's a lot of space and few people so it's easy to give over to my interest to see what's up with Mother Nature in this time of winter fallow. I went for a drive.

On grazing slopes, new members of herds. Rain season has just begun so green is still to come. Furrows are laid, so plans are underway. The vines await

    The tidal currents keep their solstice approaching rhythm.

    The week before Christmas and it seems even the land is waiting.

This is the western edge of the US. As I look east we face culture shift and political uncertainty. It is a time for vigilance. 

This season heralds a better way. Goodwill, Joy and Peace will benefit all. We wish those for you, all that your heart can hold. 

See you down the trail. 

   

Waiting, In the Interval

        Between seasons. Between change. Between atmospheric rivers. Between the America we knew and where it goes. We live in the interval.   

        On the California central coast this is the season some call Irish.

    If you know Ireland, you know this is an imposter. It is reminiscent, however. 

    Just being California winter is plenty good. From the perch here, it seems entirely too many citizens are loosing their grip.

    This includes the Alabama Supreme Court and at least 6 activist US Supreme Court Justices, all of those who have surrendered heart and mind to the MAGAban, those who give comfort to Russia and their mad czar, and those want to kill the almost two-and-a-half century experiment in a democratic republic. 

    We are between sanity and them. 

    If the MAGAban sycophants were to gain control, we likely would slip into a struggle that no one deserves. That we need to address these realities is a signal  we are in descent. 

       There is much about this America that is troubling; beliefs that are badges of ignorance gone malignantly arrogant. Uneducated and now unhinged. 

       The hijacking and the weaponizing of faith is misbegotten. Christian Nationalism, the atrocity of Hamas, and Netanyahu's abuse of the history of the Jewish state to conduct a war of genocide are three footmen of hell. There is plenty of evil creeping about.

        Nations respond to attack, but a counter attack that targets civilians, and ignores pleas for restraint is a case of two wrongs do not make a right.

        Authoritarianism, theocracy, and a new feudalism are active threats and sadly too many are poorly educated and/or manipulated to understand how they have become tools. 

        Again Russian agents are manipulating US citizens and attitudes. The MAGAban Republicans are part of the attack. They also put our children and grand children at risk of going to war to stop the aggression of the same Russian czar they support. It is madness.

        We stand between continuing the struggle to realize our aspirational promise or a regressive mania that seeks to discard human rights, freedom of thought, choice, belief and expression. 

        The poisoning of faith is insidious. We have seen it before. Dietrich Bonhoeffer a Lutheran minister was an outspoken critic of German Nationalism and the rise of the fascists. He was executed by the Nazi government. 

        Bonhoeffer asked humanity to think deeply and weigh the consequence of what is said, thought and believed. "Judging others makes us blind, whereas love is illuminating. By judging others we blind ourselves to our own evil and to the grace which others are just as entitled to as we are."

        Be it a philosophy, faith, or a personal code requires examination, giving respect, and thinking of others. This is more diligent than being a follower, scrolling your screen, posting emojis or rants. It requires getting out of echo chambers and silos.

    Look closely and you will see in Christian nationalism, Christian Trumpism, and MAGAban Nationalism, the seeds of the destructive evil that coopted faith, churches and the German regime.

     Things change. We can make choices. Big decisions are ahead.

       We live in the interval.  

        See you down the trail.

Meditation in Grey

 

        77 years ago Mary Helen gave birth to the first born of she and Karl. That was in Indianapolis. Today that boy took a walk in California.

      It was a meditation. Each step was a celebration. Each sound was praise.

    Peace.

    See you down the trail.

Peculiarities

         The double rainbow, as seen from our deck last evening, was the beginning of the rain season on the California central coast. Rain season ends and begins in July, so our August .2 of an inch is an early start and a bit peculiar.

        And so is this. The other evening as I walked back from taking out some trash I spotted and and then was buzzed by the "smallest hummingbird I've seen" as I said to Lana.

        "Really?" she said, going back to what she was reading.

        Well, she saw it the next day, with our granddaughter and she was a bit more excited about it.

        It is not a hummingbird, but it has a wing flap rate as high as the hummers. It is a White-lined Sphinx Moth and grows to 2-3 inches. Speedy little creature.

        These we found on a lupine bush. They were interrupted long enough to be inspected by granddaughter and Nana, and photographed before being returned to their bliss on the lupine.

        

        This was a sunset cocktail companion the other evening at a Camp Ocean Pines fundraising event. 

        I frequently hear some of his cousins as they observe their nightly vespers here on the ridge.

        Time to cue the frog. Actually as I opened the spa cover yesterday a little dude had taken to napping next to the control buttons. Granddaughter and Nana got a chance to spot it, before his spoiled nap led him to leap to the step and then to dash under the spa.

        Sorry Kermit...so I'll vamp and quote your song, that Jim Henson helped you 

pen....

        "What's on the other side?

        Rainbows are visions, but only illusions.

        And rainbows have nothing to hide.

        So we've been told and some choose to believe it

        I know they're wrong, wait and see.

        Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,

        the lovers, the dreamers and me."

        See you down the trail.

        

The Live Oak Way

  

        Singer songwriter Hattie Craven told the fans she had grown up at Live Oak. Her talented father Joe has been the poet emcee for most of the 35 years of the central California music festival.

        People do grow up, grow old and grow together in Live Oak nation.

 

      Live Oak has been a June delight for us since our move to the west coast 17 years ago. The music is extraordinary and so are the "Live Oakies." Peace and love mean something to these people.

       The music, food, California summer light, mood, and color make it a paradise for a people watcher.

      Some folks camp or glamp for the weekend. Others take it by they day and it's a benefit for KCBX, public radio for the central coast. And, it's all good.

        See you down the trail.