Category Archives: Nature in All Its Glory

Sabbath in Waterton Lakes National Park

Shimon who posts at The Human Picture left a comment on my post Sabbath’s Circle. I am grateful for his explanation of the roots of the word ‘sabbath’ which indicates sitting. It is always good to know what the roots of words are so when we use them we understand them more fully and, when I sit with something in quiet time, it finds its way into my practice.

Kathy and I will drive to Waterton Lakes National Park and I will enjoy my day of disconnecting in a place that is important to us. We spent part of our honeymoon there and it is a special place for us. I am looking forward to spending time in a special place full of God’s many gifts. We are not sure what we will do, but the next 3 days we will just let intuition guide us.

This is a view from about 50 km (30 miles) away from what we will be re-exploring.

 

I will have more to post when I return on Monday.

Mount Hood

It is better to travel than to arrive, it is because traveling is constant arriving – John Dewey.

Kathy and I have spent time in the Portland Oregon area several times. It is such a fun place to visit. One summer we were there we went to Hood River, toured, golfed, and took pictures.

One of our excursions was a ride on the Mount Hood Railroad. I lived the first years plus in a hamlet on the Athabasca River in Alberta. Back in the day, it was a long way to Edmonton by car, but I vaguely recall riding the rails once or twice to go into Edmonton.

This is a working train. When I got back to school, one of my students asked if I knew the gauge of the tracks. I did not and he told me what it was sight unseen. I took him at his word. Another time he asked me if I knew how many penalty minutes a particular player took during an NHL season during the 1960’s. When I looked it up, he was dead on. I cannot remember how many penalty minutes I took in any season, but know I exceeded 100 minutes one season; not bad for a goalie. A favourite artist of mine is Johnny Cash. I enjoyed every element of his career from the Sun Record days to the American Hero days. Here is a song that fits: The Rock Island Line. It comes from his Sun recordings.


At various places you can take pictures of Mount Hood. It is snow-capped year round and has summer skiing on one its faces. I don’t ski, but I used to golf. There is pretty good course on the mountain and we played 27 holes in almost 100 degree heat.

Here is another view.

One of the stops was a museum and this was some of the equipment on display. Reminded me of the farm. There were a variety of old cars, tractors, a caterpillar, and parts of an old planer mill where Kathy’s family farmed.

Hood River is basically on the Columbia River Gorge with other modes of transportation available. The paddle wheel is more a last resort. When we lived on the Athabasca River, my dad built a boat with a Willys Jeep engine as an inboard motor. I impress my mother when I tell her I remember that, about the train rides, our dog, Brownie, and chasing my older brothers through the coal shed and jumping down onto the chopping block underneath the back window.

Some evidence of a way of life that is not totally lost but reshaped by the damming of the Columbia.

The majesty of the end of the day revealed in various colours and shadows.

I am now listening to Johnny Cash singing I’ve Been Everywhere. Not quite, but no reason not to dream and try. There is a Canadian connection to the song. It was originally written by Geoff Mack, an Australian, and recorded by Hank Snow, a Canadian, using North American place names.

The Auditory Ilusion

Drops of water

No rhythm

Fall from eaves.

Seemingly,

Out of tune

An orchestra warms ups

Occasionally, silence breaks out.

The aftermath

Thunder chased itself in and out

Lightning lit the mid-day sky.

Now, a steady rain

With a different view

More than sound

More than intermittent drops

From the protected, artificial eave.

When I laid down, an afternoon thunderstorm had just started to move into the area. I listened and it sounded quite different from what I saw when I got up. Now, I am up on the fifth floor, or the penthouse, so it might sound quite different at street level.

I wonder what other illusions we have based on position and perspective on life?

In My Haste to Post I Forgot the Title

It was an interesting day. In the midst of it, Parker Palmer posted a poem by Wendell Berry on Facebook. It is a special day when Parker posts a poem by Wendell Berry, Mary Oliver, or himself. The poem was How to Be a Poet (to remind myself). Wendell Berry is low tech and uses a typewriter to craft his words. Parker pointed to an aspect of the poem’s message: “Shun electric wire/Communicate slowly/Live a three-dimensional life.”The slow of life is worth something. It lets us be the person we are most fully.

Later, I began to think about two songs by two artists I enjoy and have seen multiple times live. Guy Clark sings The Carpenter and John Wort Hannam sings With the Grain. Both songs are rich with the metaphors of living a three-dimensional life. It is no coincidence the topic is that of a carpenter in both cases. It is about true to one’s self and living a life with value.

Sabbath

Silence, solitude, sacred

A mountain’s strength

The sky’s expanse

A lake mirrors

Words of wisdom

Spoken so softly.

Disconnect to reconnect

Listen that silent sacred space

The inner teacher beckons

Be present

Wisdom revealed

Let it heal, repair

A single thread at a time

The web of life so fragile.

Questions emerge

Hold gently

Live their mystery

They answer only when ready

Until then they lie dormant

Ready when ready

Embrace life as it is.

I salute you and take my leave for a few hours. Have a wonderful 16th of July.

Seasons of Clouds

Kathy’s niece took these pictures of boomers the other night west of Edmonton. Kathy and I talked about what we saw in the clouds. There is a lot in there and yesterday, as I walked, I understood clouds meaning something different during different seasons of life.

The spring of childhood,

Clouds were homes

Where

My imagined friends

Came to life

Nursery rhymes, fairy tale, cartoons

People lived there.

A voice called: “Hurry home before it rains.”

Spring met summer

Romance arrived

A single rain drop touched us

We scrambled

Holding hands

We discovered shelter

In each other

And laughed: “Let it rain.”

The dog days of summer arrived

I looked up

Storm clouds overhead

Ominous

Please, I need to finish the lawn

Or there goes the BBQ tonight

I hear my voice: “Hurry home before it rains; so much to do.”

In autumn

A safe distance

We view

But, don’t hurry

Clouds

Real places in our imagination

Together, we share

God’s chair, a child’s face, google eyes

It may rain tonight

I hear my voice: “I am here again.”

Granite Fortress

This is the Rocky Mountains as I looked southwest at Pincher Creek, Alberta. They are spectacular, but as you move towards them and Waterton Lakes National Park they are more majestic. Several years ago, I drove back through Browning, Montana and crossed the border south of Cardston, Alberta. As I drove north, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the solid face of the granite rising out of the prairie floor. Seeing nature’s glory is humbling.

Rock reaches

Steel gray granite

Rises from prairie

Skyward bound.

I am insignificant

In this place.

Mountains,

Walled guardians

Impenetrable reminders of real gifts.

I am taking a short break, so have a great July 13, 2012.

Is It Art?

Last night, I went for a short walk and on the way back sat on a bench overlooking the Spokane River. There are two benches there. I glanced over at the second bench and noticed three pine cones. There is a pattern emerging here: one of me, two benches, and three pine cones. The cones were neatly organized and I wondered who left the art behind. The wonder was strong enough I share the picture and a few lines of poetry.

A gift received

Left by nature in some form

Maybe urban art.

Have a great July 11th, 2012

Spokane Falls

Kathy and I went for a walk last night. We walked from the Gonzaga campus to the base of the lower falls. It is about a 5 mile round trip (8 km for us Canadians). There are times you forget you are in a metropolitan area, with over 600, 000 inhabitants in greater Spokane, as you walk the paths. Part of the walk goes through Riverfront Park which was where Expo ’74 was held. I traveled with friends from Nelson BC in September 1974 to visit Spokane. We listened to the second Soviet-Canadian Super Series between the World Hockey Association team with Bobby Hull and Gordie Howe on the way back to Nelson. Spokane is a refuge for me bringing back some great memories.

Spokane is home to the Spokane First Nation a member of the Salish people. Later, when Europeans began to settle the area, it was a Hudson’s Bay Trading Post. The American government bought much of what is now Washington from the Hudson’s Bay Company.

In Salish, the falls are Aλxetk meaning fast or swift water.

These flood gates are above the upper falls. The river is running high with run off from the mountains and recent heavy rain.

We only walked a little ways from the flood gates and the water was beginning to run faster and we arrived at the top of the upper falls.

These are the upper falls. You can see one of the older buildings owned by the Washington Water Power Company and two bridges that crosses the river at various places. Some bridges are limited to pedestrian and bike traffic while others carry vehicles as well.

The power of the river was demonstrated with the log wedged solidly into place between two rocks at the base of the plummeting water.

Kathy captured this moment of colour as the water swirled around rocks and back on itself in the form of a green wave. You can see some of the fury of the water and a calmer look in the water.

Here is a view from below the upper falls. The upper falls split and go around an island of sorts, come back together, and form the lower falls.

In the midst of the power and fury of nature, is a sense of calmness. This is the base of a small stream that runs through Riverfront Park and a Zen garden in the park. It adds a sense of contrast to the walk. On one side, nature with its sound, might, and power and on the other side, the quiet of Zen influences.

This is one of the upper steps of the Zen stream in the park which stands in sharp contrast to…

to the falls. This is the other side of the island I mentioned above.

And finally, we reached the lower falls. It is hard to do them justice. This only captures a small element of their power.

Here is a mixture of light, shadows, the falls, and the mist rising up from them under the bridge and revealing a small rainbow.

Here I am striking a pirate’s pose and looking over at Willie Willy’s Rock which I want to attack. I have allies and he is pondering with me.

You cannot be serious man? You want me to risk life and limb for that? I think a mutiny is at hand. I think it is worthy and pirate-like to seek this reward…

There it is: Willy Willie’s Rock. Any pirate would want that! Right?

We met the ground squirrel on our way back. He was very cooperative and posed for pictures.

Are You Okay, God?

I read Seven Lessons of Chaos by John Briggs and David Peat last summer. They used a koan about a ‘hole in the whole’ describing what we do when we analyze things and lose the mystery of the wholeness in life. We break life and its events down, analyze them, and forget to put all the pieces back and lose something vital in the connectedness to the world, leaving a “hole in the whole.” Humans attempt to explain the mystery of life and not embrace it and the richness of our existence. Mystery and spirituality work together. We cannot intellectually explain the fullness and mystery of life. Thomas Merton and Shunryu Suzuki spoke of this attempt as human arrogance.

A former student took this picture, again with pretty straightforward phone technology, and the beauty, the richness, and the wholeness it conveyed is powerful. It reminded me of the song we learned as children There is a Hole in My Bucket. The hole in the clouds or bucket could be there for a reason we do not understand. Despite the potential arrogance, I wrote a short poem that might explain the hole.

Sprinting, scrambling, scurrying

Hoping, praying

Feeling hard, cold raindrops

Burning through my clothes

Smelling rain and fear.

Suddenly, blue and gold in the blackness

A light shone

A candle gently flickering.

I whispered, “Thank God!”

I am startled by a voice

“Are you OK, Ivon?”

“I think so.”

“Is that you God?”

“Is the hole to find my way?”

“By the way, thanks for asking. Are you OK?”

A pause

I thought a heard a smile

A sigh for sure, before

“I am now.”

Silence returned

Not falling, just silent

Embracing, reassuring, supporting,

Opening my eyes,

I looked up

I was home

A light shone through the window,

A second haven

Warm, well-lit, welcoming

With voices asking, “Are you OK?”

Saying, “We were worried.”

I wonder if we ever wonder if God is OK?

We should ask every now, and

Listen quietly in the storm for an answer,

It is there.

Butterfly

One of my students took these pictures and allowed me the privilege of posting them along with a Haiku. She is using her new phone and this butterfly felt drawn to her finger and hand.

Rest on my finger

Unifying quietly

The peaceful soul rests.

stop on the way home

butterfly rests on human

pause on the journey.