All posts by Pam

When trees are gone, what remains?

Kathy's garden on the first day of real snow on the mountains (10.4.14, Anchorage, AK)
Kathy’s garden on the first day of real snow on the mountains (10.4.14, Anchorage, AK)

This is an enigmatic kind of question that could inspire much reflection. I have my own avenue of reflection on it.

This morning, during my nature meditation, the second thing I noticed, after the cool, damp breeze on my skin, was how green Kathy’s garden looked in contrast with the golden birch leaves around it. Then I noticed a string attached to the metal bird on top of the bird bath, and running down the side of the bird bath; I had not noticed it before.

Curious, I walked over to the the garden and discovered that the string was holding up a small sweet pea plant with a single sweet pea hanging from it. It touched my heart that Anda had planted the pea and other plants in Kathy’s garden with loving attention. I felt a touch of sadness that it had taken this long for me to notice it.

I ate the pea and savored its sweetness, not just with my physical sense of taste, but from the appreciation I felt in my heart. I also took note of the kale and chard she had planted there and thought that it’s high time to eat these. The snow has come to the mountains.

I reflected upon what I know of this spot. When we moved into the house in the early nineties, the stone circle was there. It was around the stump of a fallen birch tree. On the stump had been a small windmill that the previous owners took with them. Brian removed the stump and we allowed the plants that were already in the circle to continue to grow.

After my sister Kathy died in 2001, my mom sent me a white cherub statue for what had become “Kathy’s garden.” We had planted some annuals in it and also put in the bird bath. Kathy loved birds.

The years went by. Each year we planted new annuals and left the perennials in the garden. Some years we didn’t do a whole lot. When Anda moved in last summer, she had the strong intention to make our lawn into a garden. She began to plant edibles in Kathy’s garden along with the flowers. Her intention was that we would experience joy and love as we ate from her garden. I did just that when I ate the single pea.

All of the attention, love, and care that went into this spot began with the birch tree that lived and died there. I reflect on this and on how the Spirit of the Forest is still here. Even the spot where one of its trees stood carries energy that attracts loving attention.

My drawing below is part of my experience of perceiving the Spirit of the Forest. Kathy’s garden lies between this spot and the picture window of the house, through which I can see the whole area.

"Afternoon meets night but the birches are white."
“Afternoon meets night but the birches are white.” (by Pamela Ann McDowell Saylor)

 

 

The Power of Selfless Service.

Seva, a service of giving without thinking of result, is a very simple thing. It makes you a leader whether you are or not—whether you deserve to be or not. And it brings you opportunities, prosperities, and all the goods, and God, and goodies of the Universe.


-Yogi Bhajan, April 20, 1989

(Thanks to Gabriela Rocha-Caballero)

Mundane and Magical.

It is within your power to make your life more magical. Let yourself think magically. Symbolically. Metaphorically. Loosen up and let the boundaries between mundane and magical living become thinner. Invite yourself to see like an artist, to think like a poet.

—excerpted from The Power of Magic ¤ Robin Rose Bennett 2012, from We’Moon 2014 p. 151

An answer to the question: Who am I?

Chugach Sunrise (10.1.14,Anchorage, AK)
Chugach Sunrise (10.1.14,Anchorage, AK)

“Say I Am You

I am dust particles in sunlight.
I am the round sun.

To the bits of dust I say, Stay.
To the sun, Keep moving.

I am morning mist, and the breathing of evening.

I am wind in the top of a grove, and surf on the cliff.

Mast, rudder, helmsman, and keel,
I am also the coral reef they founder on.

I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.
Silence, thought, and voice.

The musical air coming through a flute,
a spark of a stone, a flickering in metal.

Both candle and the moth crazy around it.

Rose, and the nightingale lost in the fragrance.

I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy,
the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,

and the falling away. What is, and what isn’t.

You who know Jelaluddin, You the one in all,

say who I am. Say I am You.”

― Rumi

Imagination and Reality– William Shakespeare.

Original Text

Modern Text

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, and PHILOSTRATE, with other attendant lords
THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, and PHILOSTRATE enter, with a number of lords and servants.
HIPPOLYTA

‘Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
HIPPOLYTA

These lovers are saying some strange things, Theseus.
51015

20

THESEUS

More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold—
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet’s eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven.
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy.
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
THESEUS

Yes, strange—and totally made up too. I’ll never believe any of these old legends or fairy tales. Lovers and madmen hallucinate about things that sane people just can’t understand. Lunatics, lovers, and poets all are ruled by their overactive imaginations. some people think they see devils and monsters everywhere—and they’re lunatics. Lovers are just as crazy, and think a dark-skinned gypsy is the most gorgeous woman in the world. Poets are always looking around like they’re having a fit, confusing the mundane with the otherworldly, and describing things in their writing that simply don’t exist. All these people have such strong imaginations that, when they feel happy, they assume a god or some other supernatural being is bringing that happiness to them. Or if they’re afraid of something at night, they look at the shrubbery and imagine it’s a wild bear!
25 HIPPOLYTA

But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
More witnesseth than fancy’s images
And grows to something of great constancy,
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
HIPPOLYTA

But the story that these lovers are telling, and the fact that they all saw and heard exactly the same things, make me think there’s more going on here than imaginary fantasies. Their story is bizarre and astounding, but it’s solid and consistent.
: http://nfs.sparknotes.com/msnd/page_146.html

The Importance of the time of waking.

WHAT TO REMEMBER WHEN WAKING

In that first
hardly noticed
moment
in which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.

What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.

What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.

To be human
is to become visible,
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.

To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance…

Excerpt from ‘What to Remember When Waking’
From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems
Many Rivers Press. ©David Whyte

This Morning’s Meditation Attribute.

Sky just after sunrise (8:31 am, Anchorage, AK)
Sky just after sunrise (8:31 am, Anchorage, AK)

This morning the subject of my nature meditation was the clear sky at sunrise time. As I watched my breath flow in and out of my body and beheld the sky, I felt its presence was a blanket comforting me. My breath relaxed and deepened, and I imbibed that comfort.

I know, of course, that the sky is a sea of air in which I am immersed and without which I would not exist. Yet I am not always palpably aware of that reality. This morning I experienced this reality for myself and it was so comforting. What a great antidote to the thought that I must bullnose my way through life, struggling to accomplish all the things I have set for myself– an antidote to looking at life as one continuous challenge (that happens in linear time).

 

Expecting beneficence.

Sunflower on porch (9.12.14, Anchorage, AK)
Sunflower on porch (9.12.14, Anchorage, AK)

This morning I cleared my mind and took a long look at the sunflower on the porch. This photo was taken before a trip we took during which watering was neglected. When we returned, I noticed the sunflower was dying. I watered it, and lo and behold, it revived, flower and all.

This morning my attention went to the leaves, how they turn outward to receive the light. This sunflower reminded me of the power of expecting beneficence. Even though it had been neglected, it responded to the watering and it kept reaching toward the light.

Today I will aim to hold this attitude of expecting beneficence and see what unfolds.