Cyclist / Sailor / Author / Speaker
Most people are mirrors, reflecting the moods and emotions of the times; few are windows, bringing light to bear on the dark corners where troubles fester. The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.
~ Sydney J. Harris, journalist and author (1917-1986)
(Compliments of Miss Peggy)
FEATHERS
Everything that lives wants to fly,
a Mohawk friend said to me one winter afternoon
as we watched grosbeaks take seeds,
fluttering close to our eyes.
Those were dinosaurs once, he said,
but they made a bargain.
they gave up that power
in return for the Sky.
Joseph Bruchac
(Thanks to Miss Peggy for the contribution)
There’s a wonderful and deep silence that’s part of the discipline of hunting. It takes a little while for the quiet to wrap itself around me and twine itself through me, and it takes a while for my mind to learn to read it and understand it. Continue reading “The Magic of Quiet”
At it’s heart, the words and the imagery are so true. We often feel so important and permanent – as though much of the universe revolves around our giant ego. But really, each of us is no more than a flame burning atop to candle of our life.
This isn’t a bad thing. Well, I suppose it’s bad for our ego. But ignoring the ego for a minute, (and we know how that ego hates to be ignored…), it’s really a good way for me to see my life. Just a flame atop a candle. Continue reading “A Candle in the Wind – Part 3”
The wind blew pretty hard a couple days ago as I sat in my treestand. The gentle rocking of the tree in the wind gave me a sense of security.
It’s not a particularly old tree – probably 30 or 40 years old would be my guess. In those years sitting on the edge of the Kansas prairie, it’s seen wind far greater than anything I’d want to sit through. It’s bent and swayed in the fury of winter blizzards and summer thunderstorms.
Though the wind felt big and strong the other evening, it was nothing compared to what my tree had seen in its lifetime, and knowing this made me feel particularly secure. As the tree swayed back and forth, creaking and groaning occasionally, I knew this flexibility was what made it strong. Rather than spending all it’s energy fighting the wind, it learned to use the wind to stretch and build a pliable strength. Roll with the breeze, bend with its fury.
It wasn’t a particularly good evening for hunting, as the wind made it unlikely I’d take many shots – the wind would make the flight of the arrow too unpredictable. But the gentle rocking ride was worth the time spent waiting for the wind to subside.
Eventually, it did indeed subside, and I watched the cover of a full-moon night slip over the quiet prairie in front of me, and the woods behind me. A doe came out and spent a little time in the meadow as darkness grew. A possum made his way noisily through the underbrush, and a couple raccoons squabbled briefly but loudly over some territory nearby. The songbirds tucked away one by one, and a beautiful sunset unfolded over my shoulder.
There was still enough breeze to carry the smell of a newly lit fire in a wood-stove somewhere upwind from me, as somebody settled in to enjoy a room warmed by a fire. It was past shooting light, but I was in no hurry to climb down out of my tree. I felt particularly good, and the bright full moon would light my walk back home.
Life was, indeed, quite good.
It’s mid-November, a time when I disappear into the woods for a while each year. First for several days on the western slope of the Rockies hunting elk with my son, then into the Kansas prairie for a couple weeks of hunting whitetail deer where the prairie and the timber meet.
Part 1 – Risking
I was reading a book the other day, when this phrase struck me: “Life is like a candle in the windâ€. Of course, it’s hard to say those words in my mind without hearing Elton John’s voice in the background. Nevertheless, the words stuck with me for several days, and have had the little brain cells scurrying around quite a bit.
Every step of every day, we’re surrounded by creation and destruction, birthing and dying. As I type these words, the last of the leaves have fallen from most of the trees here in Colorado – some of them wrenched off in the snowstorm we had last week. The air is full of that wonderful smell that autumn surrounds us with, as the high plains tuck themselves in for the winter.
A couple weeks ago, the birds were tearing through the seed in my feeders at a voracious rate, as those migrating south use my place as a fueling station. Some of those birds will make it, some won’t. Just yesterday there was a Goldfinch on the ground below the feeders. He seemed too exhausted to fly. When I went to him to try and lift him to the feeder so he could rest there and eat, he scurried beneath some Hyssop. I want to believe he’ll make it, but he might not.
Several weeks ago, when my brother and I were driving some back roads in Kansas, we came across a group of trees draped in butterflies – there must have been tens of thousands of them. I imagine they gather on the trees and rest until the right wind comes up, then they probably get up into the wind and let it blow them south. On the ground was the evidence that not all the butterflied would make it – the same wind that took their comrades south to safety would take the flame of life from a few.
We’re surrounded by flames of life. Each of us is just one of those flames. We like to think of ourselves as particularly special – flames that are more important that the millions of other flames around us.
But to be special, don’t we need to let the flame of our life burn openly and brightly, where it adds encouragement to those around us? And in doing so, we expose it to the wind that could blow it out in an instant. It’s the paradox of the Flame of Life – it’s meant to burn openly and brightly, which means it’s always at risk.
Overcoming The Fear Of The First Step
By Robert Shelden
A number of years ago, I was exposed to a non-profit, youth mentoring organization called CYAR (Colorado Youth at Risk). CYAR focuses on transforming the lives of teenage students through community -based mentoring and intensive training.  Like many people, I had a desire to “give back†to my community in some meaningful way and CYAR appeared to match my social values. Continue reading “Helping 106 – The First Step”
A niece recently posted something on Facebook that made it clear that she felt some failure in her life. I have no idea what the issue was – I haven’t really gotten into the commenting part of Facebook yet – I’m mostly a lurker. (I think that’s what they call us…) I suspect it was something small, like a grade on a test that was lower than she wanted, something like that.
The issue isn’t really important anyway – the important thing is the failure, and the need to celebrate it.
Sounds odd, I know, in this culture where we’ve tried so hard to make everything about winning at all costs, and measuring people by their perceived “successesâ€. But I really believe in failure as one of the most important components of a truly successful life. Surviving failure well and finding the creative power therein is a critical skill in moving “forward†in life. Continue reading “Failure’s Creative Juice”
Last week I did a post (and an email for those on my email list) titled “Live Wellâ€, juxtaposing the notion of living long with the notion of living well. A friend sent me the following quote during the week, which relates well to the post:
“We have defined holiness through what we separate ourselves from rather than what we give ourselves to.
I am convinced that the great tragedy is not the sins we commit but the life that we fail to live”.Â
 ~ Erwin Raphael McManus from Chasing Daylight
As I write this post, it’s Sunday morning, and all over the western world, folks are preparing to go to church and worship. Well, at least the 20% of Americans who actually attend church on an average Sunday morning. (Note that the number is far less in other western countries.)
But what is “worshipâ€, and is that what’s happening in churches across the country? I was raised as a Lutheran, whose family fell away from church when I was fairly young. In my 20’s, I reconnected with church, and we were extremely active in our church for 15 or 20 years. I rarely attend a church today, and it’s precisely because of that question I raise at the beginning of this paragraph – what’s really happening in most churches? Continue reading “Find That Life”
