Category Archives: Nature

Heavy With Wonder

To become aware of the ineffable is to part company with words. …The tangent to the curve of human experience lies beyond the limits of language. The world of things we perceive is but a veil. Its flutter is music, its ornament science, but what it conceals is inscrutable. Its silence remains unbroken; no words can carry it away.

Sometimes we wish the world would cry and tell us about that which made it pregnant with fear-filling grandeur.

Sometimes we wish our own heart would speak of that which made it heavy with wonder.

–Abraham Joshua Heschel

Brief Notes of an Adventure

I just returned from my first sesshin at Hazy Moon Zen Center. It was fruitful. I’m tired and glad to be home. All that I experienced is settling, so I hesitate to write extensively about it. Here are some brief reflections. The first one is from my drive down, when I stopped at San Luis Reservoir for a break. The entire drive leads through two mountain ranges (the Diablo Mountains with the Pacheco Pass and the Tehachapi Mountains with the Tejon Pass) and the central valley; it’s beautiful country. It’s a six hour drive (one way) — which is just right.
—–

Brief Notes of an Adventure

The lake — a bowl of glitter!
Winds whisper to water,
waves murmur replies.
A crow flies, snail snared
in its beak.
—–

Rooster crows, broom sweeps.
A car growls to life.
Helicopters thump the sky.
Pigeon wings slap air.
Sirens keen, dogs bark.
Zazen in L.A.
—–

My food – Advil.
My nectar – water.
My balm – sleep.
—–

Now the cushion
Now the breath
Now the work.
Samadhi does not
come in a box or book.
It cannot be imagined
or conjured.
Bells, incense, bows, chants
bring dignity and form
to the formless.
But above all,
it is about the work.
Breath.
Samadhi.
—–

Cresting the mountain,
valley a blanket spread low;
slices of miles served –
feast towards home.

–Kathryn Harper

How Not to Be Bored

“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”

–A.A. Milne

What do you do on a restless Monday afternoon? You drive to Chesbro Reservoir to throw sticks and leaves in the water and watch them float away, pushed by the breeze. You gather more driftwood to expand your fairy land. You stand at the edge of the road and say hello to a few cows. (If the embedded video doesn’t show/work, here is a link to the movie.)

You make a silly face to try to get them to moo.

hanging out

On the way home, you stop at Spina Farms produce stand to buy fresh green beans and corn on the cob for dinner. You tell the lady at the counter all about the cows and how they were having quiet time. Then you head home, unload all the treasures, and make a fairy meeting room. (If the embedded video doesn’t show/work, here is a link to the movie.)

And you situate your gathered wood, ferns, and grasses just so.

fairy land, new construction

After all this, you eat five slices of whole wheat bread slathered heavily with real butter and a few green beans for dinner, followed by a brownie for dessert. Then you take a bath, listen to a story, and say farewell to the day.

On Nature

We live in a world where volcanoes have feet and personalities, mold grows in families and the members have names, and the Crab Nebula — where Bean wants to go — is also named Lily and is very friendly. Did you know that there are blue volcanoes that produce blue lava, and that blue lava is cool like ice? Bean is insatiably curious, and for each new concept we go search on the web and look at images, and I read about it to her. Even though we’ve shown her photos of mold, for example, she insists they are like ferns. Her imagination is amazing.

Yesterday we went for a hike at Uvas Canyon County Park. Her empathy is blooming, and it’s heartwarming to observe. We saw a sign pointing out poison sumac, and as we walked away Bean blew it a kiss. I asked her why, and she said she was going to blow kisses to all poisonous trees to be friendly. And later we saw a sign explaining that rattlesnakes live in the area, that they are an important part of the community, and to be cautious. Bean thought the drawing of the snake looked sad, and she wanted him not to be lonely. Nevertheless, I assured her, the snake likes to have alone time, and we need to respect the woods by not wandering off the path or putting our hands into places we can’t see into.

When we started our hike, first we explored the bark of a madrone tree:

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We passed a tree with an interesting sign. We were unable to see the bees, but we saw a spot on the trunk high up where a large limb had broken and left a big gap, and we guessed the bees might be there.

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Daddy pointed out the roots on this tree. How often to you get to see what a tree looks like underground? Bean found the roots a little scary and also said they look like a maze.

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The stream burbled as we walked, and we enjoyed the variation of rock. The water flowing over the black rock was eyecatching.

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The trail was uphill, and Bean was getting hungry and tired. We stopped often. Our explorer made herself at home in the dirt. She found acorn caps, a feather, and interesting leaves. She took a dirt bath — handfuls of dirt thrown up in the air over herself!

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When she wasn’t taking a rest, she was doing this!

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The watched the dance of sun and shade.

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We looked closely at how nature had arranged her designs.

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We noticed how the sky was reflected by the water, and how leaves made a dent on the surface.

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It was idyllic to sit on the bank and listen. I accidentally dislodged a moderately sized rock. At first I tried to place it back. It had been sitting there for many years, I’m sure. I pondered how all the rocks had probably been where they were for hundreds of years or more. If I threw the rock into the stream, I would change the way things had been for centuries. Do you ever ponder that when you’re in nature? I decided to plunk the rock into the water, where it will likely stay for another era.

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Not all rocks were arranged by happenstance. To support the trail, park employees long ago built a wall. What captured our attention is how thoroughly moss had made a home of it.

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We reached Upper Falls, but Bean for some reason was scared. There was a small ledge and wood fence, and perhaps this made her nervous.

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So we continued up to Basin Falls. It was possible to climb up close to the basin, although Bean decided to wash rocks instead.

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They needed a thorough scrubbing!

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We looked closely at the water, and how droplets made rings. The stream was clear as glass.

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We spent many, many minutes at the edge. She threw small stones, leaves, and dust into the water. She tried to hit a larger rock with a small one and cheered when she succeeded!

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On the last leg of our hike, Bean wanted to really get into her exploration. Since I carry spare shoes, undies, and leggings in the car, this was not a problem. She pretended she was a gazelle at the water’s edge.

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It was a beautiful day; being in nature made us all mellow and happy. We drove on to see Uvas Reservoir.

uvas reservoir

The county allows fishing (catch and release), and Bean wants to learn. So do I! I never did try it out as a kid. We made reservations to camp at Uvas Canyon later in the fall, our first camping excursion. Now we just need to gather our supplies. We’re all very excited about this! It’s such a blessing to live this close to wild spaces.

Just Like the Weather

Ah, the capriciousness of a preschooler’s opinions! When Bean is going through particular physical developments — such as learning to use scissors, cutting with a plastic knife, and so on, I’ve noticed our relationship hits an emotional roller coaster. Just last night as I tucked Bean in, we enjoyed the sweetest exchange.

Me: “Night night honey, I love you, you’re my favorite girl in the world.”

Bean: “Night Mommy, you’re my favorite Mommy. I think I’ll keep you, and even if you’re mad at me I’ll love you and take care of you when you get sick. And I’ll give you milk or juice or water, but you have to choose which one.”

Then, out of the blue at lunch today, she said, “I want better parents. Ones who don’t hit. I’ll go live with PJ’s parents.”

Now before you call CPS on me, I confess: in the past nearly four years, I can count on one hand the instances I have, in a moment of heated reaction, smacked a hand or a leg. I even wrote about the first time. We do not discipline with physical force in our family, and yet there have been those few occasions when I have lost myself and my control. It’s usually after we’ve had a build-up of tensions and disagreements over many many days, which peak in her swatting or shoving me. I feel very sad on those occasions, and disappointed in myself.

As she gets older, her memory is growing indelible. After last week’s blowout she said, “It’s not nice for big people to hit little people, because they’re stronger.” And of course how does a child process the family rule of We Do Not Hit if her parent does? We talked about how important it is to use other ways to express anger, and I need to be more diligent about putting my bottom on the zafu. I’m a pretty good parent, but Bean teaches me all the time how to be the adult in our relationship.

Parenting is not for the faint of heart or those of thin endurance.

The odd bit is that we’d been having a lovely day so far, so I’m not sure what prompted this. I replied to her statement that she could look for other people to be her parents but that Daddy and I will always love her and be her parents and she will always be our girl.

Soon she moved on to asking me, “What’s in your imagination, Mommy?” And I replied I was thinking about hummingbirds, since we have a feeder right outside our dining room window and they often feed and fight over it. I asked what was in her imagination, and she replied:

“I imagine being a kangaroo and bouncing and having a joey. I imagine being a mermaid! I wish to be a dog and be a friend and live with each others [sic] and have puppies and live with you and you could own me forever.” And I told her we belonged to each other forever.

Then she moved on to talking about dinosaurs, and Sid the Science Kid, and announced, “Fruit sometimes gets dead. It decays and breaks down, But then nature starts all over again! Then the fruits and vegetables grow all again!”

Love this girl.

The Queendom of Teeny-Tiny

In the past couple of months, Bean has fallen in love with teeny tiny toys. Miniature dolls — Lalaloopsy, Strawberry Shortcake, Squinkies (OMG Squinkies!!!), and miniature accessories are the rage. For example, I came across this flower fairy tea party set up on the sofa in Daddy’s spot this afternoon.

flower fairy tea party

Here is Bean playing:

playing with tiny things

This is a close-up of her hand (to show scale) setting the table:

tiny dishes

And a close-up of the teeny tiny cups:

teeny tiny cups

Another party from this morning (notice the buttons — they make handy plates):

it's all about teeny tiny

The other day, Bean created an ocean with a blue scarf and proceeded to have a huge party on the beach next to it. Then baby got in the water and floated away, and then there was a shark attack! She needed saving, so everyone came to her aid:

little people rescue baby from shark!

She also has numerous (100+) plastic animals she plays with. Today the barn became a home for the tigers and a lion, plus a cat or two. The hand-knit hat that my Gramma Leola knit for me as a child was their bed, and the mittens were sleeping bags for other friends:

felines

One little tiger wandered out and got lost:

tigers and lion in barn

And when Bean is not busy playing with teeny tiny toys, she practices her back float…

practicing back float

…and spends time reading (mostly looking at pictures and telling herself the story):

reading

More Summer Fun

We’ve been busy climbing and splashing and creating! Bean had a total of three weeks of swimming lessons. She is still shy about getting her face in the water and going under water, but she had a blast with her teachers. She very specifically insisted on lady teachers “because they are more gentle.” (She had a man the first day and cried, and refused to even allow a man to put her into the pool.) She practiced floating on her back and kicking…

back kick

…and jumping into the instructor’s arms.

ker-splash!

We’ve also been playing with our food:

dinner
lunch

One day Bean asked for a knife and began slicing up pepper slices I’d given her. Once she cut them all, she ate them. Never before had she asked to do this, and she demonstrated real dexterity at cutting. That brain of hers is always growing!

slicing pepper

Yesterday we took a day trip to Mount Madonna County Park. It’s a gorgeous park, and they also have campgrounds, which we may reserve for later. Here’s the scenic view of the valley:

view from mount madonna

And up-close views of beautiful mosses and lichen:

such a variety of green

We saw California banana slugs:

banana slug view 2

And a Santa Cruz Gartersnake basking in a spot of sun:

cool snake

The redwoods are amazing:

hollowed out giant

These were the Twin Giants:

beauty on high

We had fun hiking the trails:

mommy and Bean

We visited the Henry Miller Summer Home ruins, and Bean hopped around:

in the miller house ruins

A view from within the former house:

room with a view

Bean had many questions about the former house and why no one took care of it anymore:

miller house 2

We walked and walked, and later she had a nap on the way home:

strolling

We’ve played with paint and paper plates:

paper plate ladybug
paper plate fish

And we’ve started collecting our spare change in a jar which we decorated. We’ll empty it periodically and use it to donate to the food bank, or the Family Giving Tree, or some other worthy organization.

our collection jar

And so our summer continues!

Practice and Cycles

“When you practice every day, you come into resonance with cosmic cycles. After many days you can feel the diurnal cycle inside your work; after many moons, the lunar; after years and years the constellations come in. The whole spectrum of vibration, from the slow, lowest tones of turning galaxies to the highest speeds of inner light, becomes your musical realm.”

W. A. Mathieu, The Listening Book: Discovering Your Own Music

Music or meditation? Music as meditation? Meditation as cosmic music?

The Rabbit Trick

A white rabbit is pulled out of a top hat. Because it is an extremely large rabbit, the trick takes many billions of years. All mortals are born at the very tip of the rabbit’s fine hairs, where they are in a position to wonder at the impossibility of the trick. But as they grow older they work themselves ever deeper into the fur. And there they stay. They become so comfortable they never risk crawling back up the fragile hairs again. Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence. Some of them fall off, but others cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” they yell, “we are floating in space!” But none of the people down there care.

“What a bunch of troublemakers!” they say. And they keep on chatting: Would you pass the butter, please? How much have our stocks risen today? What is the price of tomatoes?

-Jostein Gaarder, Sophie’s World: A Novel About the History of Philosophy

More On Transformation

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying.

–Henry Van Dyke

Oh Yes!

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

–Victor Hugo

garden 3

Updated 7/11 (because comments are closed and I didn’t want to take the time to figure out how that happened): Perhaps the quote makes more sense if it reads, “Life is the toast for which love is the honey.”

How Dharma Works

“It’s like the story of the ugly duckling. That’s a perfect example of how the dharma works. There was this bird that was born into a flock of ducks, and he was extremely ugly – so ugly he was barely tolerated by the mother duck. He was misshapen, he made funny noises that didn’t sound like a quack and he couldn’t waddle like the others. He looked big and clumsy, so he was constantly being teased and laughed at by the other ducklings. The more he tried to be like them, the funnier he looked, the more they laughed at him, and the more despondent and disillusioned he became. One day, while he was drinking from a pond, he saw another reflection that looked just like him. He looked up and saw another ugly ducking, and another and another. At that moment in time he realized that he wasn’t a duck at all. He was a swan. At that moment of realization he became perfect and complete, lacking nothing. There was nothing he needed to learn to do. There was nothing he needed to imitate. He was already perfect. He already knew how to be a swan. He was born with a swan nature. That’s what realization is — the discovery of what’s already there. It’s the discovery that you are a buddha, perfect and complete, lacking nothing. When you realize it, you are transformed.”

John Daido Loori

We All Scream

There’s an ice cream truck that rolls through our neighborhood at a speed that makes it impossible to catch if we’re inside or the back yard. We’ve pretty much given up on it. There’s a man who walks through our neighborhood with a cart and a bell, whom we usually can reach in time. But yesterday we didn’t dash out at the first sound of his bell; by the time we did, he was well down the street — beyond shouting distance. Bean was sad. We drove around a few minutes to see if we could find him (my suggestion, I thought we’d succeed). When we couldn’t find him, Bean dealt with her sadness by suggesting we make a stop sign for the ice cream guys. She painted the sign (including the edge) and I painted the words:

letting the ice cream man know what we want

Now we’d best be ready to follow through!

‘Tis the season for daisies… At the park yesterday, Bean ran up to me with both hands overflowing. I love being a mother!

flowers from Bean