Today's Blossom

These waning days have a certain comfort as our garden settles into dormancy. The few fall roses linger in their beauty. Throughout the summer I had dutifully tended the roses Clipped their spent blossoms, trimming the shoots back to leaflets of five or more to encourage more flowers. But now the autumn blooms are left alone to fade and be transformed into colorful rose hips that will adorn the soon-to-be winter landscape.

        Today’s Blossom

If you must—
touch today’s flower bud
and imagine
tomorrow’s blossom.

Imagine the promise,
uncertainty, and
impermanence that have
taken haven within.

Tomorrow—
if you will,
hold today’s bud.
Should it be opening,
be grateful.

Now—return to today,
come live in
each moment’s
unfolding.

The Lure of Wild Places

There is something about the extremes of the Earth that draw me. These are not places where I would choose to live. But they are places I carry around in my memories and my heart. 

Iceland

Trips to Alaska with snowcapped mountains too numerous to name. The North Cape of Norway high above the Arctic Circle, where a third of the world's Atlantic Puffins live. Our journey around South America's Cape Horn. And this latest voyage across the North Atlantic.

I grew up in a closed container geograpically. Landlocked, though not in the way the term is usually used. My family never traveled and I had no expectations that my life could be any different. At the same time, seeds to explore were planted in my soul, somewhere below my conscious mind.

When Clem and I made our first dash for freedom, my closed container expanded - and has continued to expand. Wild places danced before me and I answered.

Faroe Islands



Greenland

Of course, inevitable questions rise up within me. Why these places? What is their meaning for me? How do I carry them now within me? I close my eyes and remember.

Surviving Hurricane Earl

Hurricane Earl was a "doozy." And it was as close to the eye of a hurricane that I ever want to be.

We had traveled across the North Atlantic by ship, stopping at various islands along the way. Although we didn't quite get above the Arctic Circle, these were tundra places. Few or no trees. Wild places and extreme weather. Rocky landscapes that were a photographer's dream.

Somewhere after leaving Iceland on the way to Greenland, we were beyond satellite communications, so no Internet, CNN, or cellphones. What a wonderful gift of temporary disconnection from the chaos of the world in which we live. Fierce weather increased our sense of isolation. The wind wailed across open decks and high waves pushed hard against us as we weathered a gale. It was what we had expected of weather in these far northern seas.

In Newfoundland, the serious consequences of severe weather grew as the ship began providing us with Hurricane Earl information. As Earl moved north along the coast, our ship continued south. Plan A was to skip the port of Sydney in Nova Scotia. Soon Plan A was replaced by Plan  B, then Plan C. . .

Our stop in Halifax, Nova Scotia was cancelled next. The best course of action finally was to hide along the Maine coast and wait out the hurricane. Everything too large to move from the decks to the ship's interior was tied down with heavy rope.

As Earl drew parallel to us, the air became heavy and thick with fog. Waves grew in size and no one was allowed outside. Not the kind of weather that us folks from Minnesota are accustomed. Hurricane Earl's eye was 40 miles in diameter, until it began to downgrade from Category 4. Even though we were 100 miles from the eye, the risk of being blown off the ship was real. Okay - enough adventure!

Thanks to modern radio communications, computer modeling, storm tracking, and all the other tools available to our ship's captain and crew, we were able to dance along a careful line of navigation and remain safe. Our ocean crossing was not the fate of the Titanic - nor of other ships that have sunk under the duress of the North Atlantic's extreme weather. And I learned more about hurricanes than I even thought there was to know.

Since returning home in a rainstorm that left three inches in our rain gauge, I have pondered weather events. Various places in the world have suffered horrendous weather this year. The flooding in Pakistan alone boggles the mind in its destruction of people's lives and homes.

Then there are "weather events " in our inner lives and our relationships with people. The fury of storms race through us. The high temperature of our passions riles our energy. Fears we carry within us threaten to flood our souls and obscure our values and sensibilities. We choose to hide out along protective coastlines and wait it out, while yearning for the return of sunshine and blue skies.

I have a new respect for the power of weather, for climate changes occurring in the world, for ice melting in the Arctic, and the disappearance of glaciers. And for the weather metaphors that this experience has given me to reflect upon.

"An Albatross Incident" Article

After we rounded Cape Horn at the southernmost tip of South America last February, a disoriented albatross landed on our ship. After some quick thinking by the crew, the albatross soon was  airborne.

Its temporary time on deck raised a number of questions about these huge and mysterious birds of the southern hemisphere. When I returned home, I did a little research about albatross myths and facts. And I wrote an article that I submitted to Kingfisher, the Minneapolis Audubon Chapter's newsletter. When the print copy arrived a few days ago, there was my article!

Go to the Audubon Chapter's link to read what I discovered.

New Airline Seats: Are They Crazy?

Have you gone anywhere by plane lately? If you have, you have probably joined the crowd complaining about how traveling anywhere by plane has become increasingly adversive. Especially when you manage to cram yourself in the space called "your seat."

At an aircraft expo, a new airline seat has been exhibited. It is the saddle seat. You sit on a seat shaped like a saddle. This seat is a bit higher than regular airline seats, which means the space between you and the seat in front of you can be now reduced to only 23 inches, rather than the customary 30-32 inches. (Unless you are fortunate to ride in first class). Which means the plane will be able to "accommodate" more passengers per plane. Whoppee-ding!

The company producing these modern wonders says that cowboys spend 8 hours a day in the saddle on their horses and the cowboys are quite comfortable. I never knew that cowboys worked eight hour days. And having ridden a horse a few times in my life, I wouldn't advise eight hours in the saddle as an invitation to comfort for occasional riders.

A representative for the airline industry says that these seats are not likely to be adopted by most US airlines. Does this sound comforting?

If you have nothing else to to do, check out the math as to how many more passengers could be stuffed in various types of planes . . .

Road trip anyone?

Poetry Reading by Michael Dennis Browne

Come and hear Michael Dennis Browne read his poetry about well-being and distress. He will be reading at 7:30 pm on September 22, at the Benedictine Center at St. Paul's Monastery in St. Paul.

Michael believes that poets "have a vocation to pay attention., a belief that is evident in his writing. He is Professor Emeritus at the University of Minnesota, where he taught from 1971 to 2010. His most recent publication is What the Poem Wants: Prose on Poetry. He has spent a lifetime soaking up great poetry and is one of those individuals whom you can poke and out pours the work of wonderful poets. When I can't even remember the poetry I write just a day later.
Go to the Benedictine Center link for the details.

Lacking Words

Anyone who knows me, knows I am never at a lack for words.Yet this past week, the words have not been there. The impending 9-11 events and protests, and the prospect of burning scriptures holy for some, left me with much uncertainty of what words I wanted to gather together. With so much media attention focused on fear, hatred, and misunderstanding, I did not want to add anything that could be misconstrued or hurtful to anyone.

This time is like no other time in my memory - even though I know there have been similar periods of mistrust, even before humans learned to create words and to record them. People have been fearing other people forever. But I guess the optimist in me wants to believe that we have learned a few things in the course of human history.

Clem and I have been traveling recently and have been around people whose non-western European languages I could not identify. When we came home, we went for dinner at a favorite East Indian restaurant. I looked around the room. People with multiple hues of skin color eating with each other. Bits of conversations floated across our table about places people have lived or traveled. A few head scarves on women. A turban or two on men. Families composed of several generations with visibly mixed ethnic backgrounds. No one was shouting hatred or fear. And I said to myself that this microcosm of the world is where I want all of us to live. Enriched by our differences.

When I was growing up as a child, I never saw a person who was black nor met anyone who was Jewish nor heard a foreign language spoken. Everyone was "like me" with their northern European roots. (Except the Native American children who lived at the Indian School across the river in North Dakota.) Then I married - and several days later we were in the middle of Washington DC, where my husband was to begin his graduate education and I was to work at the NIH. It was a crash course in diversity! I will never be the same.

On this Monday, I live in a country in which I am trying to find perspective. Polls tell us one thing. The news media serves up the most dramatic events. What  is really representative of the thoughts and feelings of the majority of Americans?

The image that comes to mind for me is a dog. A dog and his wagging tail - and I ask myself :  is the dog wagging its tail or is the tail wagging its dog? What forms the nature of my beloved America? Has this Great Recession so unsettled us - and a president who is half black - and half white? Does all of this fear and hatred come out of some core deep within in us from ancient times, when humans first wandered across the water and land masses of this earth? Akin to the fears that some people have of snakes as personified evil, even though no actual event in their lives gives them rational cause to fear snakes.

Who are we? How have we come to use the creation of words to lash out at anything or anyone who is not identical to us? Or is the goodness of people across this diverse country being masked by the fears of a few that have been given such prominence?

Elizabeth

Exponential Explosion of Ivory Soap

Take one white bar,
99.44% pure Ivory.

Place in microwave oven,
unwrapped and waiting.

Close door and punch high,
observe closely.

Useless entertainment,
derived in college dorms.

Out from under parental eyes,
creativity blooms.

As does the bar, expanding
into a unique creation.

Energy swells it magically, 
from its rectangular form.

Our choice: remain contained,
in our original form.

Or open ourselves,
to unlimited possibilty.

Let uncensored creative energy,
have its way.

Ivory soap unrecognizable,
exponetially exploded!

                Elizabeth

Being Not Afraid

Elizabeth and I were walking through a springtime woods along Lake Superior, on one of our many trips to the sea without leaving Minnesota. High above the lake, the path took us across a ravine. As we reached the other side, we saw Bunchberries in full bloom. Elizabeth  captured the moment with her ever-present camera .

My very first thought that came to  mind . . . these are white doves of peace — everywhere. The poem “Being Not Afraid” was birthed that day. It remains a favorite of mine. It was not long after that visit to Lake Superior that we came up with the idea to pair Elizabeth’s photographic images with my poetry, each to have thoughtful conversation with each other. And hopefully a third conversation with the viewer.

BEING NOT AFRAID

It will be as if,
in the dry autumn of earth’s life,
the world’s people
walk a woodland path ―
expecting only
crumbling rustling leaves,
a shriveled mushroom or two. 

Around a bend 
tiny, white doves
appear everywhere
and they are not afraid.

And now ―
littered with peace,
the glade is watered and turns
to spring. Not just here, or
there; but everywhere.
And peace is not afraid.

It will be like that ―
the springtime for earth’s people.

Imagine, being not afraid ―
peace everywhere.

It will be like that.

          Clem
                                                                                       Published in the National Catholic Reporter, in June 2008

                                and used with permission.