Archive for the ‘Nature Speaks’ category

II. LISTENING TO LIFE

June 22, 2017

 

Why is it that greenery makes us feel good and alive? !!

B fun and play cr

 

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Our young friend is still in the hospital but out of danger now.   During these past two weeks Son and I have become quite familiar with the hospital:  corridors,  elevators,  restrooms,  and cafeteria.

After you’ve purchased your food,  you have nice choices for where to sit and eat.   I like the long dining room with windows from floor to ceiling.      On the opposite wall from the windows is this:

Living Sign cr

 

Yes, a Living Wall,  meant to give comfort and hope, I suppose, in a place which must also make us think of death.   This is what it looks like:

 

Living Pattern cr

 

That’s a huge wall!     A pattern of living green plants.    A gentle reminder of how many green plants there are in this beautiful (living)  world.

Another friend who just had a “brush” with doctors in her life recently had her eyes “fixed.”   Cataracts taken out.  After a slight glitch, a slight scare,  we thank God that her eyesight is now perfect!     She tells us that she was amazed to look out her window and see the trees, the grass, the bushes –  all in an amazing array of greens!    So many different shades of green.

We need to look twice and see how beautiful this world is.      Lush green living things will be one thing I’ll  “miss”  when I leave this world.   I know that’s not theologically accurate,   but . . . .)

Living Close Up cr

A close-up of that living wall.   They are real, actual,  living plants.

I’ll “miss”  flowers too.   And the power of big thunderstorms like the one we had tonight.   And wind pushing against me on a fast boat.    The freedom of being out on the open road in a great little car.    Bookshelves full of books.   Rooms full of bookshelves.   Mornings.   Nights.  The beauty of snow.

Living LIghts cr

Sunsets!  Lights!   (The ceiling lights that illuminate the Living Wall.)

These are some of the things that I will leave behind.   But I’d be going towards Life.  A fuller and more abundant, exquisite Life.    Like a wall that is painted compared to a wall that is Living.   And all the things that the earthly pleasure bring to me:   colors,   power and forces,   freedom,   curiosity satisfied,   a new day,  a restful night,    beauty,    Light,  and even  more await as I listen to if I listen to the Source of Life.

I “got caught” watching these happy bunnies:

b Caught me looking cr

Probably wondering why I had this dumb philosophical look on my face.

Just listening to Life  . . .   listening to Life.

 

SILENCE OF THE MIND

May 14, 2017

Sorry I’ve been away for a while again.

House upo High

I’ve found a hideaway again,  or pretty close.   It’s been very silent and quiet around here for about a week.   No TV.  Not much radio.  Not much YouTube.    I’m not sure why —   I’ve just “retreated.”

I guess people do that once in a while.

Actually,  my back yard makes a perfect Retreat in the Spring.

BACK YARD I prefer

I just want to sit on my deck and gaze at this.     It makes it hard not to withdraw from the world when I want to even when maybe I shouldn’t,  not so much.

Tree in Bloom cr

It’s just so pretty out there.

I think I’ve been looking normal.    I’ve had two repairmen come to my house this week.   That’s normal.   Now I have TV,  if I want to.   And I have clean water again.    Things  . .  .  break down from time to time.   Normal.

I’ve had an epic Drapery-Fail.    Got free curtain material with a comforter I had bought awhile  ago.    Time for me to get those drapes put up . .  .

Sewing is nice silent work.   Normal,  but silent.

Sewing

I hit snag after snag after snag  (no pun intended)  but it looked like I was solving the problems.  Son even moved the drapery hardware for me on the walls near the windows.    But then –  I had misgivings.

I sewed for many hours this week, but I will now have to  redesign the whole project.  And the hardware will have to be re-done.    —  Well, it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow.   Can Son refuse. . . ?

Had a normal scheduled recorder session this week.    I hope I was a “good conversationalist,”  though I was struggling with paying attention sometimes.

And I’ve been going to class off and on,  I mean whenever classes are scheduled.   Nobody would know that in between activities I retreat into deep solitude and don’t want to talk.      It’s like a Funk  without feeling anything.

But I think I’ve been normal.

Books

Been studying.  As usual.   Normal for me.   Got another problem I’m working on:      How did the assumptions of  univocal metaphysics arise out of  equivocal  categories   . . . ?   It’s the old Aquinas vs. Scotus thing.   But it’s not made any easier with Avicenna’s use of the word “being”  which tripped everyone up.   You can’t make good Latin from Greek via Arabic!

Owls

But I’m working on it.    I don’t always agree with this author,  so maybe he’s the one with the problem.

(How could I have been so busy these last few days when all I wanted was Silence around me?)

Opened up   a new laptop and got it  going . . .   Easy.  No brainer.  No thinking.    Then  I really didn’t want to   go   anywhere on the Internet.

But I did go somewhere a couple days ago.  I went to a good site, and there was a review of a book that presents exactly what I’ve been doing this week –  and what we’re all going through,  and it’s consequences, perhaps a remedy or two.

It’s a new book written by Cardinal Sarah-   one of the Good Guys   – a minority in Catholic thinking today.   Here’s a bit from that review:

We are in an age of increasing social madness. Cardinal Robert Sarah, in his new book, The Power of Silence, reveals this to be symptomatic of a widespread spiritual illness in modern Western culture. This illness, according to him, is largely caused by an absence of crucially needed, God and truth-revealing periods of silence of the ears, of the eyes and of the heart in the life of modern men and women.

“Silence of the ears, of the eyes and of the heart.”   *

He also talks about the    “tyranny of destructive external and internal noise.”

All that noise,  All that information.   All those words demanding that you pay attention and make some sort of decision.     It becomes a tyranny.    That’s what I’ve been shutting out, I think.

Because of all the noise experienced by our eyes, ears and hearts, modern man no longer hears, experiences and knows God. He is unable to comprehend the purpose and even the value of his life and the lives of others . . . Our world no longer hears God because it is constantly speaking, at a devastating speed and volume, in order to say nothing. Modern civilization does not know how to be quiet.

Quiet.   Silence.

Everything that enters the mind and heart through the senses, emotions and memories can create howling internal “noise” and greatly disturb our internal equilibrium, sense of being and relationship to our Creator.

Howling.   No TV howling.  No radio howling.  No music howling.  No Internet howling . . . Not much talking in the Spruce Tunnel either.   And sorry about that,  because today was an important anniversary for the whole world.    I’ll get to that in the next post —

—   but meanwhile,  one more glance backwards here.  I wonder if my craving for silence is coming from the Blood of my Forefathers.

sami sign

I’ll go visit them there, in Samiland, ,  once again,  before I move out into the “howling”  world where there is that “tyranny of noise”  and everyone is expected to comment on everything.

No.

SONY DSC

Solitude.

sami mountains

Nature, being quiet.

sami reindeer

Oh.    I guess it’s usually winter there.

How about a quiet cabin,  all alone . . .

sami in snow

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.*  If you want to read the article about Cardinal Sarah’s new book,  it can be found here by removing all the spaces when you use this URL:

http:// angelqueen .org/ 2017/05/13/cardinal-sarah-reveals-surprising-cause-and-remedy-for-the-fears-and-anxieties-of-our-time/

THE SCIENCE OF WHIMSY

February 21, 2017

“True Science is whimsy.”

speeding-thoughts

There was a young lady named bright
Whose speed was much faster than light.
She set out one day
In a relative way
And returned the previous night.

Science is whimsy,  for God made the world out of Love and Joy!    It is the serious pudding-faced “science practitioners”  of our day who put a heavy weight to science –  and dare you to disagree!

If you cannot find fun and admiration and joy and gratitude in the science you know,  then you have not done science at all!

studying-outside

I took my studying 0utdoors today –  it was 61 degrees, for goodness’ sakes!!!    That’s a pretty warm February day here in the Far North!   I did my work right in the middle of nature with the sounds of many seriously happy birds, the  water in the  creek  babbling over the rocks,   and the wind soothing itself through the trees.

So enjoyable,  this science of  meteorology.

Speaking of which,   WHERE IS MY GRANDSON AGAIN?

truckee-snow

White-out in the High Sierras

Cooper lives in the Sierra Nevadas where they’ve had  five feet of snow one week, six feet the next, five feet again the next week,  and one time it was eight to ten feet.   Today and yesterday they are having a three to five feet snowfall –   not so much –  but the wind gusts  nearby were measured at  199 m.p.h. (Alpine Meadows)  and 193 m.p.h.  (Squaw Summit.)   Fascinating.      Intimidating.       My son-in-law works up there at times!

Haven’t received any recent photos of Cooper.    Probably don’t have cell phone service again.  Or electricity.

I think they could use a little science and technology help out there.

snowflakes

Science is delightfully beautiful but it’s probably not a good time to teach Cooper that “each little snowflake has six points and each one is different from every other snowflake   . . .”  They’re not seeing  “flakes” out there.

Amazingly,   the world is so big and man and his dwelling places are so tiny,   that  Cooper can have his blizzard way over there and I can have my heatwave way over here.

Looks like the Pacific Ocean has been having an unexplained heatwave of its own.

ocean-heat-blob

They call it “the Blob”  sitting alongside our West Coast,   a large heat anomaly.  It’s been there for a couple years, but science hasn’t figured it out yet.

It’s still a mystery to wonder at.

And then there is  “gorgeous”   on an ordinary day:

sunset-drive-cr

Do you know what that column of sunlight is called?   Do you know what causes it?

Just driving along one evening   —     all of a sudden,  the sun shoots out a pillar of brilliant golden light.

It was gone in 45 seconds.

Just a whimsical  reminder of the power and glory of the Creator of all science.

 

 

 

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

January 12, 2017

ice

“Stopping by the woods  . . .    Lovely, dark, and deep . . . *

Yeah . . .   that poem.  

woods

(For those of you who know some Robert Frost.  .  .)   I’m getting through it, though.

“. . . But I have promises to keep,  and miles to go before I sleep. and miles to go before I Sleep.”

 Nature spoke:

rabbit-tracks

That deep, dark Scandinavian Funk jumped out and grabbed me just as I was getting rid of the  “Evil California Toddler Virus”  that settled in during the holidays.

How easy  to withdraw from everything and smoothly drift into those Dark Woods.   It attracts . . . .

But Nature spoke – and I remembered I have some promises to keep.      A few hundred books to read.     A mother, to be.   A grandmother, to be.     A teacher,  yet to be.   I’m a soul who hasn’t been called out of this earth yet,    into those deep, dark lovely woods.    Oh, man, I was tired!   Of everything.

And then I saw the bunny tracks.  

I was too tired to be out there on my driveway, to shovel the snow away, even though it wasn’t deep.      But there are those rabbit tracks!!     About three feet apart!    That bunny wasn’t tired on my driveway!    How absurd that “big me”  should be holding back when that little rabbit had used so much energy to get across.

See?  Sometimes,  and even for you, it might be just the smallest thing speaking to you from the Real World,  from Nature, and if you add a little humor, a little irony or absurdity,  you are snatched back into that Real World and you participate in a whole new outlook.

Well,  it can happen.   I know what being “trapped” is too — but here again Nature showed me what really being trapped is:

trapped-leaf

Just a moment later, after I enjoyed those rabbit tracks,  I saw this leaf.  The wind was blowing on it and it had left tracks too, but not what one would expect.

The end of leaf is trapped.   Probably in some under the snow.   Instead of making forward progress and “getting somewhere,”   the leaf has been going around and around in circles.

Mmm-hmmmm.    I could draw a lesson from that too.   I’ll just draw my own lesson;  you can draw yours.

I rejoiced with the rabbit.  I took pity on the leaf.   But both made cute tracks,  lovely patterns, and both left their mark that — they existed.

bar-gold-with-cross

Robert Frost had a really, really good reason for writing that poem, and just because  that’s a common experience to us all,   it’s a good idea to read it again;  become familiar with it in your now new stage of life,  however long you’ve been living.

(Memorize it, for fun!    Ha ha!   No teacher making you do it!!!)

You can use a Search engine;  just type in “Stopping by  Woods on a  Snowy Evening.”

Or:   (more)

(more…)

10. STEAM KETTLE DAYS – Merely Symbolic?

October 29, 2016

steam-kettle “Woe unto those who  call evil good and good evil. . . .”

  We have so little time left . . .  and the ones I love are going to fall under that  rapidly approaching time of woe.

Again!

fly-head-middle

What I had thought . . .

fly-head

. . .  was that these flies landing on her . . . without her even noticing

fly-second

. . .  were supposed to be symbolic:    –

ancient-philistine-god

Beelzebub,  Lord of the Flies,  ancient Philistine god, is just a symbol of the Ruler of other gods.      (Psalm 95:5 – “All the gods of the pagans are demons.“)

Just merely symbolic.

 But what do I know.

There will be a final show-down, a Final Battle, and it’s called the Time of Woe.      If there are not enough people pushing back against corruption and evil and indifference to God,  my loved ones will be caught up in this Time of Woe.

And that makes me really steam-kettle mad. 

bar-dissolve-er

(It can’t just be her really thick camera make-up because these flies land elsewhere.  But I cannot even show all the sickening photos of flies landing on the face of the Barack Hussein person.   Too icky.)

DESTINATION – WHERE HIAWATHA LIVES

July 21, 2016

The Spruce Tunnel has reported many times that our Land,  this USA, is so empty.  One can drive for hours without seeing anyone, and many times during this past week I’ve been the only car in my lane for a half hour, sometimes  an hour at a time:

Hour W out cars

HIAWATHA’S LAND:

But it  is  beautiful in the Far Far North where Hiawatha lived (lives).

GG Driving Island  Sunlight through the forest,  Nature speaks deep within you with concepts of Beauty:   colors, pleasing proportions,  compositions, contrasts, harmony . . .  all the classic elements of Beauty, which testifies to its Creator.

GG Driving 2 400

Curve after curve,  Hiawatha’s forest views.

But of course he didn’t have a car to ride in!  So I went into the forest –

GG Forest floor 400

Ferns on the forest floor.    Easy walking, because ferns aren’t really thick underbrush.  They’re very soft when you walk through them.

GG Forest path and wild 400I found pathways.   I’ve walked miles along these pathways during this past week.   All the time I was thinking about Hiawatha’s small village,  one of many, many, maybe countless villages that existed throughout this Land.    Many millions of people lived in this Land, long before the Vikings and the Italian exploreres came to it.

I kept “seeing”  these villages:

BR new goods

And wondering who was “seeing” me:

BR coming

Hiawatha’s forest was not only a location, of course,  an “address” for his home;  it also gave to them everything needed to sustain life.

GG Forest Deer 400I drove by these deer one afternoon.   Probably descendants of the 17th, 18th, and 19th century deer that provided many necessities for Hiawatha and his people.

I couldn’t help taking a picture of this:

GG Forest Birch

We all know that the white birch  has bark that is stripped off to make canoes.  What I learned this time is that each strip of bark has five, six, or seven layers, and each thin layer is waterproof and very strong,  perfect for making  a lake or river canoe, among other things.

GG Canoes from Birch When I was a child I tried making a small toy boat with birch bark.  I also tried making “paper”  with the birch bark.   I failed.   I really didn’t know about the “layers”  in a strip of birch.

But it was important to know these things for Hiawatha because his land borders the Great Gitche Gumme,  and I walked many pathways to get to that Lake.

GG Forest Edge Path 400

If you could see across that Lake,  you would see the shores of Canada.

Gitche Gumme claims the land, in a constant tussle between land and water.

GG Forest Edgge Dropoff 400

The pathway along the edge seemed to be about a half mile long.  Finally,  I got to my destination,  the destination for this whole week-long, more-than-400-mile journey:

Black Rocks 400

It’s here.  This was my destination.    It’s an area called Black Rocks,  a singularly unromantic name for an outcropping of “rock”  that is estimated to be 1.3 billion years old.  This is some of the oldest known rocks on the surface of the earth.

On the shores of Gitche Gumme
By the shining Big-Sea-Waters

Yeah,  here is where I needed to be,  I thought.    These were the first waters I saw at the very beginning of my life . . .  and now,  with the end in view,   I needed to see these waters again.

Black Rocks into lake.

It was the end of land of the Far Far North in view, anyway.

Black Rocks far 400I climbed all around Black Rocks,  and finally looked for a place to sit.

Black Rocks Seat

And I did it.   I found a good rock ledge to sit on and I put my camera away, and then I began to . . .  well,  brood.   I divided my life into five-year segments . . . .

And, well . . .  with each and every scene from my memory huge wounds of negative emotions leapt out at me.    Private, powerful emotions.

It would have been tough that day . . .  it would have been a tough whole life . . .  but for one thing.     With each sudden emotional blow,  I asked myself,   “Well,  what did God want me to learn from this hardness?”     And why is it that each emotional “blow” I felt seemed really rather feeble in my memory?    And how is it that I’m not unhappy,  but indeed,  full of hope and joy and love for those whom I know?

“What did God want me to learn…?”    There was a lesson in each stage of my life.   I suppose.    But I wasn’t that broody, actually.   I probably was taught something during each stage, and then incorporated the learning into my assurance that God was in control.

And so I don’t need to know any “answers.”  I don’t need to come to any conclusions.

What I learned from my brief three hours of “brooding”  sitting on those rather hard rocks is that,  in a big way,  I’m not that baby,  that toddler, that child,   that adolescent,  that young adult . . .  anymore.

I am “me”  only in this Present Moment.  That’s all I ever can be:  Me  Now.     I am identified by what I am Now.

In a big way,   what matters is what kind of person I am Now.

Forgiveness  and Forgetfulness available for the past;   hope and healing available for the future.

That’s the way Gitche Manito works.   Ever Present- Ever Now.     What’s NOT to be joyful about?!

I think I actually did reach my “destination.”

Deo gratias.

 

(Next post:  Why Hiawatha knew this too.)

“BY THE SHORES . . .”

July 16, 2016

  Just for my own record,  I made it.

 

3 Shores whited 350

“By the shores of Gitche Gumme . . .”

3 shores of gg 400

By the Shining Big-Sea-Waters –

3 ShiningWaters

It  might look like all “water” to you,  but I spent the day flitting from this spot along the Lake to that spot,  like a butterfly,  sipping in sweet experiences; all varied, all blues,  all waters.

The shores were different from place to place –

3 red shores 400

I climbed down to these red  shelf-rocks,  and then I walked way out onto a breakwater to get more views –

3 out into waters 400

The forest back there covers a partial island,  a “presque isle” in French,  and it holds the grave of  an Indian chief who lives there.    I’m  in   Hiawatha’s native land.

Doesn’t that passageway just seem to beckon a canoe to travel forward into it?

3 canoe there 400

Forth upon the Gitch Gumme
On the shining Big-Sea-Water
With his fishing-line of cedar
Of the twisted bark of cedar
Forth to catch the mighty sturgeon
Mishe-Nahma, King of fishes
In his birch canoe exulting
All alone went Hiawatha.

‘Though Hiawatha can exult as his canoe speeds along,  he must be skillfully aware of hidden dangers.   The lake holds many  hidden boulders, sandbars,  floating  tangled logs,  shipwrecks, shoals,  islands,  and snaggy inlets.

Here’s one very noisy seagull island.   At times it is covered in white (seagulls)  as though there were snow on it  –

3 sea gull island 380

He looks like he has many tales to tell –

3 Ready to Tell380

And, as I said a few posts ago,  I’m here to tell myself my own tales.  Tales of my own life.  Tales that will make sense of my own life.

This is the Lake that I first saw when I was a newborn baby.    I come back to sit by its shores.

Ah, my son, exclaimed the Old Man
Happy are my eyes to see you!
Sit here on the mat beside me
Sit here by the dying embers
Let us pass the night together
Tell me of your strange adventures
Of the lands where you have traveled;
Then I’ll tell you of my prowess
Of my many deeds of wonder . . .

 

 

EN ROUTE TO GITCH GUMME

July 15, 2016

They say “getting there is half the fun.”    Remember that when you’re doing the tedious activity of actually “getting there.”

Still, there is the reward of stunning beauty along the way.

Lk MI Overlk island

It’s the deep blues that speak to me.

I counted six different and distinct blues in this view:  navy blue,  deep blue,  powder blue,  aquamarine, turquoise,   and blues I don’t even have a name for but my grandma, whose first language was Finnish,  says there are many, many names for blue. As a little girl she was surprised that we, in this country, didn’t know them all!

Hope my camera is up to the challenge.

Lk MI Overlook

At the top left of the picture is the tip of that island and a surf or shallow point that had stunning robin’s egg blue water.

I can “feel” why blue is one of the colors associated with Heaven.   Remember, classically,  our forefathers teach us that there are three heavens seen from Earth:

  1.   the heavens where the birds fly
  2.   the heavens where the stars (and galaxies and all the heavenly bodies)  exist
  3.  the Heaven where God is, as well as all those holy beings which are fit to be with Him

Poets, artists,  scientists,  parents, theologians, and revelations from Heavenly beings all speak of one or the other of these heavens.   It’s good to be smart enough to distinguish the various meaning of “heaven.”

It’s also good to enjoy all the Blues we are given – and to thank our Creator for the ability to see and enjoy Blue!

Here is a painting of “Hiawatha”:

Hiawatha in canoe

And here is a picture of his “creator,”  the poet,  Longfellow,  one of those Poets who wrote of the heavens.

HW Longfellow

 

I’m on their trail.

THE MONTHS OF JUNES – R-RATED

June 2, 2016

Still contemplating which R word to use (Recover, Restore, Rebuild) —  but in this post I really mean   R-Rated,  and unless you’re a child of the 20th century and inured to perversion and immorality,  please don’t go on.      I wouldn’t let my family read this.  It’s not . . .  ladylike.

So,   don’t.    You’ve been warned.

JUNE # 1

June to fix

The lovely month of June is here!     Blooming Gardens,  Brooding Birds,   and Blushing Brides .

Good things that celebrate love and life!

June was named for the Roman goddess Juno who represented  matrimony and childbirth.   Families are the foundation of any healthy society,  and the Romans honored family and family connections.

In Christendom,  June is also known as the month of weddings,  *    a time to celebrate Holy Matrimony,   the foundation for family and the setting for rearing children.    The Church adds one deeper dimension:     June is the month dedicated to the celebration of The Sacred  Heart.

When I entered the Church, this symbol –

sacred heart

–   with its red heart surrounded by a crown of thorns,  burning flames, and dripping blood   was “embarrassingly”  overly sentimental.  It took me a little time to accept the Intense (burning)  Love that Our Crucified Lord actually had – for me!

Now I understand the symbol,  but  like any human being,  I also . . .  forget.    I know,  but I don’t feel it all the time.     Sometimes I remember when I used to roll my eyes at such a symbol –  and then I have to think about the True God that came to die for me in order that I may have eternal life in God’s good Heaven, where no sinner deserves to be.

So the Church, in her wisdom,  has developed the tradition of  appointing the whole month of June for us to think more deeply on these things.

A God who loves and cares!   Deo gratias!

JUNE  #  2

Now, we live in two worlds.   St. Augustine called it Two Cities.    We leave the City of God now, with its Natural Seasons and Natural Law,  and look briefly at that other city;    it’s temporary and R-Rated,  much to our sorrow.

An attempt to command –

 

O Not gonna have mine

The man they have placed into the American White House has –  in  diabolic defiance to Nature –    “ordered”  this country to celebrate un-Natural acts.

(Want the official White House proclamation?    Go   Here . . . )

Defying Nature is Un-Natural,  as in a roaring lion rolling over on its back, exposing its throat to a bunny rabbit . . .

Lion sent

A bunny coming?

. . .     Un-Natural  as  a butterfly swimming under water;

. . .    as  a hippopotamus “boinking”  a giraffe –  or trying to.    (Boinking –  you know  . . .  poking into.)

Each creature is made with certain characteristics for which it is Natural to do the things it was designed for.   An ear is for hearing.   A mouth is for eating.   Other parts of the body fit into other parts of another body.

Yet this man who is known to have been a  member  of two   (TWO!)   gay bath houses in Chicago,     has taken this lovely month of June and is trying to PUBLICLY  besmirch it . . .

(TAKE NOTE:  I’m writing about observable, objective undeniable  practices) — 

. . .   encouraging practices  which place a human mouth on another person’s . . . place where it’s icky to put it.     Or thrust one’s hand inside in order to find . . .   squishy substances.

Practices which always  result in damage to delicate tissue.      (As I said a few posts ago,  I worked in a hospital for four years.   Pediatrics, yes,  but sometimes I was pulled to help out in the emergency room.    You wouldn’t believe some of the things one man can do to another.)

Practices which encourage the spread of disease from one person to another.

Practices which according to government studies have increased the cost of healthcare and   burdened the economy with lost work days and lost productivity.  Government studies;  not someone’s “opinions.”

Practices which result in higher rates of depression,  psychological sickness, and violent abuse (statistically speaking)  of one’s partner in shame.    (so-called “spouse abuse”)   Just according to statistics.       Objective numbers.

Practices which violate the sanctity of the Natural family.

Practices which therefore a healthy society has always regarded with shame and  then outlawed – and punished.

The man encourages practices which violate his own religious preferences –

O presofus

—  and wishes citizens of this country to violate theirs.

Two Junes.   Two Months of Junes.

The contrast is clear.     And we can let it go,  or we can choose to live as human beings, repairing and rebuilding and  elevating our society into a state of dignity and respect.

bar dissolve er

Okay.  So maybe this post was X-Rated.        It’s hard to be ladylike and truthful about a 20th century-type society.

But NOTE AGAIN:   I speak of Practices;  actions,   not of persons.    Practices happen and can be objectively observed.

bar dissolve er

 

. *     Please don’t fall for the anti-Christian myth that puts forth June as the month for weddings because in the Middle Ages people were dirty and took baths only once a year when the weather got   warmer and so their bodies were less offensive in June.

Gullible college professors should be ashamed to continue that slanderous story in front of their uneducated students.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WALK WITH ME

January 23, 2016

 

I don’t know what made me visit The Spruce Tunnel this day.  It had been a nice but challenging class this morning, but I was tired now  and very hungry,  and it was a cold, crisp day in the Far North.   But I found myself making the stop, thinking the  fresh air would feel good.

So unexpectedly I stopped the car and started off  down the familiar entrance pathway to the Tunnel.

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No skis this time, even though it was winter.   And there were plenty of other  footprints to show others had  left their skis at home too.

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I once did a photo-study of all the patterns made by boot footprints in The Spruce Tunnel.  Fascinating.   Sometimes you find interesting things when you look down, when you stop and focus on what’s very close to you.

I was wearing my warm fur-lined “short boots.”    But my friends say they look like bedroom slippers.

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Well, hmmmph!   I bought them from the Boot section of the shoe store.   They’re boots!   They keep my feet warm!

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I took a deep breath, feeling the (cold) oxygen fill my lungs.  It felt good all over.   I thought:  I could have been driving the car right now –  breathing stuffy, heated air.  I could have been home by now:  breathing dry air.   This was nicer.

I looked way up at some of the deciduous trees, bare now in midwinter.   Kept my eyes up there,  just like a kid would do,   until I was done looking.

It was peaceful, but it wasn’t quiet.     There were many interesting sounds:    little peeps, squeaks,  creaks,   lots of bird sounds.   “Someone”  was scolding me  as I walked through.  Maybe my peace was  disturbing his peace;  maybe a bird, maybe an irritated  squirrel.    Sorry, little critter –  I wasn’t intimidated;  you just sounded funny.

But I share this park with other living things.   I know.

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I saw an interesting log.

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Nobody’s home, I guess.

Questions, questions, questions.   What was I doing here?   What made me come?

And then another unexpected, decision:   of all the pathways I could have chosen to enter the Tunnel,  I chose this one, rather than my usual eastern approach.

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I was entering now a deeper stillness,  when the “peaceful feeling”  becomes a little eerie.    A  peaceful feeling becomes a spiritual feeling.   The many duties and concerns that had kept my mind so busy fell completely away, and my mind seemed to become clear and open.  I thanked God for . . .   I don’t know.  I just felt thankful.

Whatever impulse had driven me here was a good one.

And then I discovered “why”  I had come.   An unexpected purpose.   And just
as I was wondering about the wisdom of being here, alone, in a great big park
with no other person in sight,  and with no protection (whatever that would
be),   I heard  two people up ahead.

It was a man and a woman.  They were enjoying the park together.  They seemed happy, although they looked cold.    When I got closer, and smiled to them,  they asked me if I knew how much further they had to go to get to the end of the trail.   “Not far at all.”

If I had entered the Tunnel from the other way,  I wouldn’t have seen them.  So . . .  glad I could help.

8.5 two eaglesBut then our conversation began.   The lady,  the wife as it turned out,  came over to me to show me the beautiful pictures of a pair of eagles that she had recently taken.  And nearby!    The eagles were obviously a happy couple too, impersonating a pair of lovebirds.  How interesting.  I was impressed.  Such an image of majestic strength –  and yet —  life, love, bonding, babies;  just like all life on this earth.    “Abundant life!”   “Be fruitful and multiply.”

The lady went on about  her pursuit of certain birds for further picture taking, an obviously well-liked hobby of hers;  and how often she just seemed to be “led”  to the location of certain interesting or rare birds.

I learned about their motorcycle riding and an accident, one of seven, was it?   And how they were so protected that they each had only bumps and bruises,  even though their motorcycles were trashed.  And how the accident led to the fortuitous discovery of impending blindness.

They both shared many other things, all the while expressing their thanksgiving to God.  It was evident that they lived their Christian faith daily,  at every moment.

I felt a little shy, and I shyly asked them if I could take their picture.

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I wanted to remember them, to remember that this delightful encounter had really  happened.

Then it was time to go.   Just standing there had made us all feel the cold.   We said our good-byes and “God bless you”s.

There was the end of the Tunnel waiting for me, and I took one last look at the tall black spruces:

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And further way up high:

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The Spruce Tunnel is indeed a place of great beauty, deep feeling, and lofty thoughts.     I’m so glad I had made my unplanned stop here.    I felt different – and better – after the chance encounter with that happy couple.  Their bright happy spirits lifted me up and made a happy walk in the park even happier!

I’ll never see them again,  but I’ll always remember their effect on me.  And I hope I’ll try to have the same positive, unselfconscious faith-filled effect on others.

We who are believers  manifest Christ for the world around us.  We are witnesses to His love and to His Resurrection.   We show the world what Jesus is like.

Or so we should.

Leaving the Tunnel,  walking out into the wide world  —

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Finding my way back into the “normal” world —   where I hope I’ll take this experience with me and I hope it will change me, just a little.

 

 

MUSIC IN THE GARDEN — SUMMER 2015

July 7, 2015

A gift of Flowers:

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They come from the liberality of a friend who rejoices in the beauty of her garden,  and from which she generously shares her flowers, her musical talent, and her hospitality,  at regular intervals.

We have begun this summer to make (somewhat) beautiful music together.

I wrote a while ago about this new activity for me;   I’ve taken up the recorder at the prompting of my friend, a fine instrument for the sounds of  Renaissance and Baroque music      Earlier this summer,  one day,   she surprised me by saying we’d be playing outdoors.   I drove to her home in the country, and while I was parking the car I heard her say she’d be “on the bench.”

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I got out of my car and it took me a while to locate “the bench,”  but there it was, a little distance away, surrounded by a lovely garden arranged in the “English” way;  that is,   non-symmetrical,  non-plotted,  and rather untamed at first glance.

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Closer in,  I could see there were happy, colorful bunches of flowers of this and that kind,  with happy bees,  happy dragonflies,  happy all sorts of buzzing creatures going in and out of the various blossoms.

She told me to sit on the bench with her awhile, before we started the “really stressful”  activity of making music together — and perhaps she perceived in me my inheritance from my own Grandmother — a need for speed.   A need to get right to it, hurry up, and be doing it, whatever  it  was….    (What gave her a clue?  Maybe because the first half dozen times I tried to find her country home, I drove right past —  I raced right past —  and even though I knew better,  I just couldn’t slow down enough to insert my car into her driveway in time.    I was in a hurry.   I came to our music session tense and purposeful. )

One can’t be speedy and purposeful in a beautiful English garden.

We sat and talked quietly together on the bench.  At first I was filled with admiration and many questions about her garden, which extends all around her property,  not only in the “English” arrangement.

But then the quietness descended on us,  the peace and quietness that fills a person when Nature speaks, always insisting on having center stage.    I did slow down;   I did feel at rest now.   I was ready for our music.

 There,  just beyond the flowers,  was a gazebo,  sheltered by the tall trees.

This is where we make our music.   And last week there were three of us.

recorders threeSoprano, tenor, and alto — a full voice for the beautiful chords of the music that  was produced during the pinnacle of Western culture.  We three did well.  We could almost hear what the music was supposed to sound like!    I could almost see the people who appreciated this music.

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Two hours of music pass by in an instant.

Then there is Tea, of various kinds,  with mint leaves from the garden.   And there are English tea biscuits,  or lemon bars,  or scones.    Light and lovely.

The notes of our music have penetrated every cell of my body, calming, soothing, ordering my  self.    Each color, each petal of the flowers  have done their work,  lifting my spirit upward in some ineffable gratitude.    The quiet conversation of friendship has encouraged  and strengthened me.

I go home with it all.   Some of the experience is “vased” __

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— vased, so I can see and remember.      But most of the experience stays inside of me.

I’ll slow down now.   I will slow down and practice hard —  so I can do this again, next time.