Photo: Somewhere in SouthWest Texas. I’ll be writing about this place soon. 🙂
Well, you can probably guess, this pic is from:
Bidááʼ Haʼaztʼiʼ Tsékooh (Navaho)
Or, as we would call it,
the Grand Canyon.
A beautiful scene definitely full of magic. Considering the Canyon cuts through and reveals almost 2 Billion years of geologic history, yeah, pretty magic 🙂
Hello to all my friends in cyberspace! I wanted to apologize for not being around lately.
You see, I’m in the middle of a Walkabout.
It is a bit different this year since we are confronted with COVID-19. Social distancing, per se, has not changed in my wilderness hikes, but it has definitely shaped travel and I do miss out on the human contact and story exchanges that I would normally have at the end of the day in some public forum.
I’m changing locations more frequently this year too.
Less of a base camp and more of an eternal romp.
I’ve also been in many places where I’ve had no connectivity. Being unplugged does have some nice advantages. For one, I’ve not missed all of the hateful commentary perfusing the Net. I’ve also been able to meditate easier, although one can travel internally too far if one is not careful.
I’ll write that story later and tell about how Mother Earth dramatically called my attention to it and how I needed to be “grounded.” Still healing . . .
On a metaphysical level, for the past couple of years, the Bear has been visiting me in various forms. And this continues with a new materialization this season. I’ve recently been blessed with watching some Elephant Seals and I discovered that Marine Mammals, known as “Pinnipeds,” or the “Fin-Footed Ones,” all descend from a common Ancestor called “Enaliarctos.”
Which means “Bear of the Sea.”
It had Bear-like teeth and used flippers to swim.
Apparently the Spanish settlers in California called Pinnipeds “Lobos Marinos.” Or, “Sea Wolfs.”
So comparisons to land mammals is how we land creatures relate. At least we recognized the power of these mighty apex predators.
Whatever you wish to call them, they are amazing. Breathing and breeding on land, spending months in motion amongst the waves on the hunt, and being able to withstand the ocean’s crushing pressures for extended periods. Quite the adaptations.
Us Two-Leggeds might learn a thing or two from these guys.
So anyway, I am crafting stories in my head as I go, but it will be a little while before I get them on “paper.”
Please don’t disappear or give up on me. I will return . . .
Photo: The Pale Evening Primrose. I encountered these beauties in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. They are armed with very sharp thorns. The Beauty and the Beast 🙂
A wonderful Mary Oliver quote.
Photo: Wandering the Southwest
International Women’s Day was yesterday. To honor it last year, I made a post about my daughter. Today, I’ll honor my mother.
My mom grew up on a farm in southern Michigan. The closest “big town” was Sylvania, Ohio. As soon as she could, she left the farm and found work in Toledo. While there, she also sold War Bonds for WWII and was a “War Bond Captain.”
But this wasn’t exciting enough for her.
Indeed, this is a holy spirit.
Photo: My daughter runs her own business boarding horses. A fine couple of renters from the winter months 🙂
Storms don’t exactly sneak up on you in the Midwest. Unless you’re sleeping.
They hem and haw. Fronts drift in. Stagnate. Advance. Stall. Pick up again. Sort of unfold in slow-mo.
Certainly not like the Thunder Boomers out West.
Although we do get that occasional freight train. Those tornadic, counter-clockwise winds that sweep in so fast no one can prepare. In fact, if you witness them, it is sort of hypnotizing. Like a snake hypnotizes its prey.
For the average storm here, the wind picks up, the temperature drops, and sometimes, you can see that clearly demarcated line of clouds advancing. That gray-blue, dark-clouded front-line meeting clear, blue sky, perhaps with its wisps of white cirrus clouds. But it’s when the temperature drops that you really know it’s about to hit.
Along with that unmistakable fragrance that suddenly permeates the atmosphere.
Intro: I wrote this story back in 1993, describing some of my time on the road between 1978 and 1980. I had packed up and bugged out after a little run-in with the law.
Something sparked the memory, and I dug out a copy of the publication it appeared in at the time – “Out Your Backdoor.”
I found it fun to look back at my writing style then. Not that much different from today.
I was trying to break into freelance writing and looking for small publications that would pick up an article – payment was usually a couple copies of the newsletter, magazine, or journal, or whatever print media it might have been.
With a few minor edits, here it be . . .
I left you all at a juncture in my story “The Club 66.” So, it’s time to circle back a little. If you don’t remember, check out the last couple of paragraphs.
Disclaimer: I don’t recommend that anyone participate in such a ceremony without proper guidance, intent, and knowledge. Also, since we are all individuals, creatures with complex chemical-electrical systems, there is no way to predict how ingestion of any substance might affect someone. To either their benefit or detriment.
Nor can I offer any guidance in how to interpret such an experience. Words fall far short.
Last night, I tried posting this pic from the WP app on my phone. I had a bit of trouble but I think it did finally come through and I hope you’ve liked it.
Took this one off the back porch with a 400mm zoom lens and cropped it to enlarge it more.
The phone app doesn’t allow you to post a feature pic, and now that I’m back on the lap top, I’m making a few edits. I’ve also tried WP’s new editor with this one. Can’t say that I like it.
Have a wonderful Sunday!
A number of things were swirling in my head as I woke from my slumbers.
For one, Kirk Douglas died yesterday. And as I read off the list of his many accomplishments and movies I was reminded of the film “Lonely are the Brave.” Now I saw this film a long time ago, loved it, and when I watched it oh so many years ago, I had no idea of the connection with Edward Abbey, whose work I’ve also come to thoroughly enjoy.
It’s strange how things can circle around in our lives.
Photo: The California Tortoiseshell Butterfly – Nymphalis californica