Looking and Laughing Beyond

Today I spent about half an hour or so visiting a beloved elder. She is over 100 years old. Every time I see her, she asks the question in one way or another, "Why am I still here?" She and I really can not come up with any solid idea other than she is loved, and she loves, and that love has taught her resilience. She has been practicing resilience her whole long life.

Her stories are often repeated. Her hearing is not great. But today, we just laughed. When she told one of her stories that I have many times, she smiled and then laughed. And I laughed.

This afternoon as I reflect on our time together, I wonder if perhaps her soul is here to teach us all to laugh at old age. Not to mock the elders, but to laugh with them as we turn together and learn to face eternity laughing.     

      

image: Lake Orr, September 2026

Hope

 I woke yesterday morning with this photograph on my mind. It was taken on the shore of Lake Orr in September of this year. I titled it  "Hope" because as soon as I saw the scene from the back of our camper that morning, the word came to mind. I felt then, as I do now, that the gold color just beyond the dark trees beckons us with a promise of warmth and light as the day began. Here, I feel that same beckoning many mornings as I watch the sun rise among pink and salmon colored clouds that move across the eastern sky. The changing light reminds me that the earth is still rotating on its axis. While gravity and I are periodically at odds, it feels good to simply stand in awe at the window. 

I cherish such times of awe. Without those moments of silence and wonder, it is difficult to experience both hope and gratitude. While the following quote is about simplicity, I believe it shows us a path to hope. It is from a book of daily devotions written by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette. I have turned to this book many times during the past two decades. He tended to his monastery's kitchen, gardens, and the sheep. He also wrote several books, including cookbooks. He loved to cook soup and to bake bread. He probably did much more while he lived in the monastery. I just read that he passed in in February 2023. He was a monk who paid close attention to each season. It makes sense that he would pass in winter. I am certain he passed in peace.

This book is entitled Blessings of the Daily, a Monastic Book of Days and was published in 2002.  His entry for October 20, "Simplicity Finds a Home in the Daily"  begins with this quote attributed to Jack Kornfield and Christina Feldman: "Simplicity, letting go of opinions and cravings is an act of compassion for ourselves. When we let go of yearnings for the future, preoccupations with the past, and strategies to protect the present,  there is nowhere left to go but where we are. To connect with the present moment is to begin to appreciate the beauty of simplicity."  In other words, when the mind becomes quiet.

I do have to smile now. While in the middle of writing this, I received a text from one of my credit card companies asking if I had made a certain charge. I had not. Yes, that flustered me. I think all is in good order now, but, fraud and theft are frustrating, disappointing, and worrisome. Yet, the warmth of hope still beckons. The present moment offers us much, if we can pause long enough to live into it. Sometimes that takes courage. 

Blessings on your daily comings and goings. Let us continue moving towards hope, watching for the signposts of awe along the way.

A gentle rain is falling this morning. The land has been thirsty, so I am grateful. May all drink deeply and thrive. 

 

     

Keepers of the Lakes, Part 1

 I am a little late in writing a couple of reflections about our camping trip in late September, but there are several images and thoughts that are staying with me. I do want to get them recorded before the memories fade completely. The destination of this trip was Central Oregon, an area I was completely unfamiliar with. Tyler is part of an online group of fellow campers who travel in rigs much like ours. They do two or three gatherings a year, but all in Oregon. On this trip we decided that is probably further than we can commit to driving to on a regular basis. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable trip, albeit a bit chilly at times. 

The first day of our journey we drove as far as Klamath Falls, Oregon. I was surprised to discover how beautiful the area around Klamath Falls is. We arrived in town quite hungry, and enjoyed a nice restaurant dinner. By then looking for a campsite in the dark seemed daunting. We asked the server if she could recommend a hotel and she directed us to one down the street. She asked where we were headed and when we answered, she added "This is God's country." I was tempted to add, "All country is God's country", but I refrained and simply responded, "Yes, it is very beautiful here."  And it truly is, at least before, as Tyler tells me, the heat of summer or the cold of winter set in. 

We arrived at the hotel and again I was surprised. The hotel sits on a body of water which we learned was Lake Ewauna, the headwaters of the Klamath River. After breakfast the next morning I was keen to walk along the lake before we got back into the truck to head to Central Oregon, which I had just learned is also known as the Oregon Outback. While  so-called complimentary breakfasts can lack interest, at least for the tastebuds, there are usually informative pamphlets to peruse. Nonetheless, as long as the coffee is hot and half and half is provided, I am usually content with tough scrambled eggs with a side of something that includes a bit of something to read. 

The morning was quite cool, but the air and water both seemed to glisten, and many birds were on and around the lake. As we continued to walk, we passed by a man who was tucked into a sleeping bag underneath a ledge probably leftover from an old bridge. At his feet sat a dog who looked to me to be at least part Malinois. The dog was quiet, but very alert; it never took its eyes off of us. We, of course, did not try to engage the dog, choosing instead to respectfully walk by. On our return, we saw the two of them pretty much in their same positions as they had before. Again, the dog carefully watched us, but did not move or bark. I mentioned to Tyler that the dog impressed me with its focus and discipline. He agreed.  

I was delighted to see plovers on the shore. They are quick moving, chatty birds who seem to keep one another continually advised of their movements. I tried to photograph them, but the quality of my one photograph proved to be quite poor. The birds were just too far away and were pretty much the same color as the ground. Plus, they seemed to be much more interested in running around in tandem rather than sitting still. I have always thought of plovers as land birds, but I have learned that they do fly and actually migrate. No wonder they chat and move together in unison. There soon will be many miles to cover.      

Alas, there are other creatures that live close to Lake Ewauna: midges, which are tiny winged insects that also travel enmasse. Fortunately, these were the non-biting variety, but they were everywhere. For the fish and the birds that inhabit the lake and the surrounding area, their presence is probably most welcome, and certainly contribute to the lake's well being, even if we humans flail our arms and complain, which can happen a lot in a hotel parking lot during check out time. Nonetheless, I was once again reminded that this is God's country. There is a balance to be found if we can let it be.

On to the Outback. More to come.

   

Lake Ewauna, Klamath Falls, Oregon

Listening To a Very Large Snake

 I woke this morning from a dream of a snake. A very large snake.  

In the dream, I am with several people. We are by a body of water. I am not sure if it was a lake or an ocean because in the dream we spent most of our time in a building next to the water. We are indeed discussing snakes. Unfortunately, I do not remember much of those conversations. What I do remember is a very large snake kept appearing and would follow me around. Not in a menacing way, but it worried me mainly because I knew nothing about it. 

A woman who was also part of the group walked in holding a white egg. I do know this woman in my waking life, but our paths have not crossed in years. As I pondered the egg, I wondered if the snake might be hungry. I then had a revelation about the snake: it was following us because it simply liked the companionship of humans. It also seemed to be changing color. At first it looked to be a dullish brown, but as the dream progressed, it took on a beautiful green patina.  

A man then walked into the room. He had a clipboard, and he was assigning people in groups to study various things, including some smaller snakes. He looked at me and said that he would like me to work with another man who was standing slightly apart from the others. We were to study the large snake, and I was happy about that. He looked at me and simply said, "I like the work you have done so far." 

I recently read online that snakes grow their entire lives. This continual growth means that they periodically outgrow their skin, so they shed it and leave it behind. I think this dream speaks of transformation and transition. Perhaps the egg symbolizes that there is food for this part of the journey. 

Yesterday was my 74th birthday. I am definitely in the third stage of my life, and I want to stay aware of that. My work with SpiritCare taught me that we should not underestimate the importance of this stage of our lives. This is a time of growth as we assimilate what we have learned over the years. It is also a time of learning to let go of what no longer has meaning for us, and learning to let go even when letting go is incredibly painful.  

Today is the first day of autumn, and yes, the leaves are starting to turn. Last night's sky filled with clouds that gave the Waxing Gibbous moon a beautiful halo. The view out our small window at the top of the stairs revealed a view of the mystery that autumn always seems to usher in. 

Blessings to you all, whatever season you may be finding yourself. Do take care and listen to your beautiful souls. 

       

image: February 2026 I have no photographs of snakes. I simply like this photograph.

Honoring the Body

 The first thing I do in the morning is look out our bedroom window and gaze at the eastern sky,  At night, I look west. For the past two nights we have been able to witness a large waxing crescent moon on the horizon. Last night I could see the outline of the full moon to come. I know in truth the moon is always full, but I find it a blessing that we experience phases of the moon as we orbit the sun. During my morning sun salutations today, I was bathed in a tender pink light that continued to grow. There is peace and therefore healing in all of this - perhaps because we humans have always gazed at the horizon and simply watched the light change morning and night.  I say watch, but really we not only watch, we take in and experience those changes. They are a part of us. We are of earth and sky. When we forget that, or choose to ignore, or believe we can dominate all of life, we do so at great peril.    

This summer I have been blessed to do some guest preaching. At one church, I received a gift of fresh eggs. At another, garden grown tomatoes. Yesterday a friend picked some Asian pears from his tree and brought them to us. I know that tree but I did not know that he was the one who planted it as a gift for his wife. The fruit is as sweet as he promised.  

   

​"I bind unto myself today

The virtues of the starlit heavens,
The glorious sun's life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.​"

~ from the hymn "Saint Patrick's Breastplate"​ 

​Friends of Silence    

    

​Let us bind  ourselves to the generosity of earth and sky.     

  

      

 

  ​image:  San Leandro, September, 2026.  No pink, but beautiful full light

  

Dreaming

 "I believe Earth is dreaming us into a new way of seeing, a new way of being, if we will favor our senses and receive what is coming to us through heartbreak and love."  

Terry Tempest Williams, The Glorians    

   

When I read this sentence, I thought of the photograph I took yesterday, September 4. I know some of you saw this photograph on Facebook, so please excuse the duplication.  What came to mind today was, "What if this turkey vulture is dreaming the world into existence?"  Yesterday, I watched it fly away. I had no idea why it flew. I have no doubt it saw something I did not; that it sensed something I cannot yet articulate

Creation is ongoing. Despots and authoritarians have their primitive, punitive, and selfish dreams. Let us remember that we, too, are being called to fly.   

Last night I dreamed of a bighorn sheep standing on a high boulder. I am grateful for the encouragement. Creation is indeed ongoing, and according to author and teacher,  Rev. Dr. Randy Woodley, who is of Cherokee descent, creation is also healing. I am beginning to believe that the destruction and chaos we are experiencing now may prove to be healing. Perhaps that is the message of the turkey vulture who certainly knows that death never has the last word.    

   

My gratitude to Rabbi Yael Levy who recommended The Glorians. I am on page 3.     

       

image:  East Bay Regional Park, September 4, 2026

Revisiting Prewitt Ridge 2026

 This morning Tyler received a text from a friend who said that Prewitt Ridge has burned. When Tyler told me, I immediately thought with sadness of the weasel that I did see, and the condors and other creatures that I did not see. I thought of the lizard who joined our camp site, probably because he was there first. Nonetheless, he quietly made room.

When Tyler shared his news with me, for a while I could not speak. I have learned that when I camp in a spot, its presence stays with me. 

So many fires in the West now. So much damage. So many frightened and thirsty creatures on the run, including humans.  Yes, I mourn. I mourn for the lives lost in the Grand Canyon, and in Nepal. We keep trying to conquer the earth, but she will submit only for so long. May we learn to work with her, rather than demanding that the earth work for us.  

The 2026 World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation takes place on Tuesday, September 1, 2026, marking the official beginning of the ecumenical Season of Creation. It will run through October 4, 2026, the Feast Day of St. Francis. Quoting Diana Butler Bass: "During these weeks, Christians are urged to recognize the theological centrality of God as Creator, Creation itself, the human vocation of caring for Creation, and doing justice on behalf of the Earth and all creatures."

Let us pray, remember, and act accordingly.  

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Resending my post from May 26, 2016  

"Our lives, our circumstances, and our choices are uniquely our own. There are no right answers. But there is a right question. It's the one that rubs against our self-righteousness, resistance, and fears. The one that revolves a never into a maybe into an okay, let's see.

When you ask yourself, 'Why not?' you may find that you are no longer stepping reflexively backward or standing rigidly still. You could instead find yourself in motion, across a vivid and unpredictable landscape, over impossible mountains and beyond the deep blue water's edge, where you surprise yourself, once and for all, by getting wet."

 Karen Maezen Miller

     

On the second day of our trip we drove up a winding and narrow road in Big Sur to Prewitt Ridge. The road is steep and unpaved, so patience and a sturdy 4 wheel drive vehicle are needed. Having experienced Big Sur only from the coastal highway, I was surprised to discover how high the terrain is. (AI tells me that the altitude is "roughly 3,200 feet" and roughly is a good way to describe every inch of those feet.) Nonetheless, we were able to wind our way to the top of the ridge and found a beautiful campsite that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. We could not actually see the water because there was a layer of fog on the ocean as far as we could see. It would move back and forth along the coast and the valley below us, but it never climbed to where we were, nor did it recede far enough so that we could actually see water.     

After we set up camp, Tyler took a short walk, and I sat and read for a few minutes. Eventually, we both settled in and simply watched the fog. The movement was mesmerizing. Tranquil is a word I don't get to use much, but that is how I would describe our day and evening. However, late in the night that tranquility was interrupted by a loud scream. We both sat up with "What was that?" rushing from our mouths. We listened and heard the unnerving scream again. Our minds settled enough so we could agree that the scream was probably not of human origin. I mentioned that I had heard that at times some wild cats such as a mountain lion can at times sound human-like. The piercing sound was quite unnerving, and my envisioning a nearby screaming mountain lion did not bring me comfort. 

The next morning while still in my sleeping bag, I looked out the window and saw a creature running quickly along the side of our camp. I still had cat on my brain, so I told Tyler that I just saw one run by. He asked what it looked like. I reported that it was tan and smallish with a remarkably long black tipped tail. He then asked if maybe I had seen a weasel. I could not answer the question because I had no idea what one looked like. At that moment we had no cell phone coverage, so the research was delayed, but once I could investigate online, I concurred that I probably did see a weasel. I also learned that in times of high stress or territorial disputes, weasels can and do emit a piercing scream. As alarming as the whole experience was, I feel fortunate to have gotten a glimpse and sound of this creature. When we camp we see and hear birds, mostly jays and woodpeckers, and we often spot lizards and squirrels, but otherwise we do not see much wildlife. Yet, a couple of years ago, we decided to meet two longtime friends at a KOA in Petaluma. They travel in a RV, so we camped among the RVs for two nights. Even in that full campground, a fox and I startled each other on our solitary predawn journeys, and from our friends' campsite I was able to watch an owl taking flight at dusk. I treasure all these brief sightings. 

Karen Maezen Miller's quote resonates with me as I learn how to camp. Unlike Tyler, I did not grow up camping, but even in my 70s, I find it a worthwhile endeavor. I am grateful for his skills that help me to get out in nature so I can get a glimpse of some of her landscapes and wildlife. Most of us need to fine tune our senses. Otherwise, we risk being lulled into giving developers a free hand to pave and overbuild. It is too easy to forget that we are all in this together, and we all need space to thrive.

            

     

        

Image:  Yes, there is an ocean out there, and goodness knows what else! 

May, 2026