A Dream of Sky

 I admit that I rose reluctantly this morning. I was waking from a dream that I was not ready to leave. In the dream two friends, Tyler, and I were travelling down a road in our neighbor's pickup truck. Our neighbor was driving and Tyler was sitting in the front. The other friend and I were sitting comfortably in the backseat of this fairly large truck. Snow was everywhere, including on the road, but the road was smooth and stable. Our neighbor was driving slowly, but with steady confidence. No one else was out and about, but there were a few vehicles left by the side of the road. The land was white and very quiet. Ahead of us (not overhead for we were in daylight) was a beautiful midnight blue sky. Also straight ahead was a faint crescent moon, fairly high in the midnight blue sky, and some stars. Suddenly, there were long, thin golden strands of light falling in that beautiful sky. We were awestruck. No one said a word. 

Our road ended in a fork, but neither fork went anywhere. It was as if we had been led to this wondrous sky of moon, stars, and light. The long strands of golden light were still falling. 

The dream then shifted and we were in a small building. Our neighbor and Tyler were singing from a hymnal. I was looking for another copy. My friend who sat next to me was putting sheets of paper on the otherwise bare white walls. The paper was decorated like the sky, including the golden strands. 

I woke with the hymn, "Seek Ye First" in my mind. While I cannot say for sure that this was the hymn in my dream, it does seem to be an answer to a prayer that was in my heart in the middle of the night.

When I finally opened my eyes and got up, the waning gibbous moon was in the western sky.  Clouds appeared to be moving across it. Because of the moon's shape, it looked like it was pouring itself into the clouds. Then, the light in all directions turned a brilliant pink as the sun rose in the east.  For a moment, even the moon looked pink.

 Yes, worth getting up for.  

    

"Seek ye first the kingdom of God, 

and God's righteousness, 

and all these things shall be added unto you, 

Allelu, alleluia."

Karen Lafferty, Chalice Hymnal 

--

Mt. Diablo, February 2024

 Tyler and I decided to go on an overnight camping trip on Mt. Diablo this past weekend. We called it a practice camping trip. The state park that is protecting Mt. Diablo really is beautiful and well maintained (except for some disappointing graffiti on some of the fascinating sandstone rocks) and our campsite was nicely tucked between some oak trees. We wondered why we had been to Mt. Diablo only once. We then remembered that we have always travelled with dogs, and dogs are really not allowed in state parks. Suddenly another dimension has opened.  

I know it seems odd to some to think of me as a camper. I really am not craving adventure (that word has come up in several comments) but I do have a desire to see and connect with more of this beautiful land. I am more of a walker than a hiker, which I know can frustrate Tyler some, but hiking poles do help bolster my confidence and balance if the terrain gets a bit rough. Also, we are both growing older. This  allows us to more easily find compromises in our treks.   

We did some exploring of the area known as Rock City, and despite the beautiful trails and sandstone rocks, people have defaced many of these fascinating formations.  I had a difficult time finding rocks to photograph that did not have names scrawled upon them. On our way home we stopped in Danville for a bite to eat. There we witnessed a young boy kicking a newly planted tree - not just once but several times. Both of these experiences have reinforced my thinking that it is time for us to reconnect with nature, and to really see it - not just bike, run or commute through it. I know California needs housing, but if we build over all our open spaces, all of life will be poorer for it. 

As we walked through Rock City, we noticed that the manzanita trees were blooming. The air was alive with the sound of bees. These are native bees that do not linger and are difficult to view up close. I had forgotten that many native bees burrow, but fortunately, Tyler found a mound where some of these burrowing bees live. Lichen and moss could be seen everywhere. Despite human pressures, the mountain seems to be doing well, thanks in part to those who work in the state park system.  Friday night we heard at least one Western Screech Owl (our app helped us identify it) and a Great Horned Owl. While we heard planes flying over, we heard no automobile traffic, except for those few vehicles pulling into camp. 

Even short forays outdoors can reveal much to us. I believe nature can heal us, but we have to give her the chance to do so. But if you are staying overnight, I do recommend not forgetting your pillow. That is probably part of the reason why we heard owls. And yes, the moon was beautiful.

    

"Life is not perfect and people are not perfectible. Only understanding, only compassion––the ability to bear life with the rest of humanity, whatever burdens the bearing brings––perfects us."  

Sister Joan Chittister

  

I would add not just compassion and understanding for humanity, but all of life. 

Finding The Path, Part 3

 "I believed even worse would happen to us if we abandoned this wilderness, and I stared out across the night desert imagining what worse could be. We would become nothing without deep and pressing country, places we can never name or possess. Our insides would weaken if we did not have such things. Our minds would become bitter and self-absorbed. I had many times tried to invent a valid argument for the preservation of wilderness and could never find it within the bounds of my language. But I knew that without these far places we were risking ourselves as a species. We need these anchors in the land."  

Soul of Nowhere, Craig Childs, page 181, copyright 2002   

  

This is the book that I chose to take with me on our trek to Salt Lake and back. I love Childs' work. He is one who walks, seeking ancient paths, through deserts in the US and Mexico. Sometimes he travels alone; other times he journeys with scientists, archeologists, and other researchers. He has found beautiful artifacts and landscapes, but he never says exactly where. He brings nothing out of the land but his drawings and writings, no matter what he finds. He believes in protecting the integrity of the land and those who came before him. His passion for the desert deeply inspires me.  

   

When we left Salt Lake City, Tyler mentioned that we might be able to camp outside of Wells, Nevada. I checked my weather app, and replied, "It looks like it is not snowing there, but there is a mention of wind." That proved to be quite the understatement. When we arrived in Wells, we pulled into a gas station. The wind was so strong, we could barely open the doors, and so chilly I am sure we were not alone in wondering why we would want to (Of course, there are bodily needs that will override such hesitations.) We filled the truck and unfilled ourselves. Tyler then said there is one place he at least wanted to take a look at before we headed on: the ghost town of Metropolis. Off we went up a Bureau of Land Management Road.  

 

 We found a plaque in Metropolis, but it was iced over and we could not read it. Therefore, I am sharing the following history of Metropolis from the website, roadtripryan.com: 

"The founders of Metropolis, by choosing such a grand name, clearly had big plans for their city. In 1910, Harry L. Pierce of the Pacific Reclamation Company purchased 40,000 acres for the site of Metropolis. His vision for the city was that it would become the hub of the farming region. By 1912, Metropolis was off to a good start. The company had built an amusement hall, post office, school, train depot, and hotel. The hotel was top of the line for the time, with hot and cold water in every room, central heating, and an electric generator. The Mormon church encouraged members to move to Metropolis, and a spur railroad line was built and put into service to the town in 1912. Unfortunately, Pierce's plan to get water for the town from the Bishop Creek Dam that he had built failed. Lovelock, a community downstream, blocked Pierce's water allotment rights. Without water for agriculture, the town was doomed. Some dry farmed wheat successfully for a few years. The settlers killed most of the coyotes in the area early on, which had the unintended consequence of causing the rabbit population to explode, which decimated their crops. Droughts came after a few years which, along with a Mormon cricket infestation, spelled the end of farming.The community limped along for a few years. Pacific Reclamation Company went bankrupt in 1920, and the railroad spur was closed in 1922. In 1925, the last store closed, and the post office was shut down in 1942."   

     

 While we were there, we learned that Metropolis was built with bricks leftover from the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco. Not much is left, as you can see from the photograph of what remains of the hotel. There is, however, a well maintained cemetery there. I do not know who maintains it, but there are people in the area who are descendents of the pioneers who attempted to make their stand in Metropolis, and who very well may decide to be buried there when the time comes.  

 

Certainly not completely researching the water rights was a big part of this failed dream. However, what also played a major part was trying to destroy all the coyotes in the area. When humans try to completely eliminate top predators, the effect ripples throughout the entire food/life chain, eventually affecting human populations as well. Perhaps we can say that they abandoned the "anchors of the land," believing that humans simply cannot fail. Yet, as we are learning, they most assuredly can. 

  

We turned, and headed towards Reno.  I think I will always remember that wind.   

        

 

Facing the Music

 One of my biggest challenges with playing the flute is actually playing a duet with my teacher. I get stage fright. I had forgotten that when I would play a piece in church many years ago, I would be plagued by stage fright. I find it frustrating, but interesting at the same time. One would think that being two decades older would make a difference - that somehow age would have alleviated the fear. So far, this has not been the case. My spiritual director reminded me to befriend that fear because struggling with it does not work.

 During the pandemic, I picked up a book from one of our Little Free Libraries entitled The Best Buddhist Writing 2004, edited by Melvin McLeod. Some of the essays are quite good. Last week, I picked up the book thinking it was time to return the book to one of the libraries. Of course, I had to peruse it "just one more time". As I did so, I found a couple more interesting essays, so yes, I still have the book. 

Yet, I am glad I did keep it because one of the essays, written by David Guy, deals with stage fright. His fear was public speaking. Because he is a writer who is often called to read from his work, he eventually took a class to help him overcome his debilitating fear. The teacher advised her students that we first experience fear deep in our belly. We then begin to tighten. That tightening is so automatic we may not be aware of it. Then the tightening moves up the body until it reaches the diaphragm. Then our lungs become constricted, and panic takes hold because we are struggling to breathe. Sound unpleasant? I can assure you it is.  

Eventually the author learned to accept his fear as soon as it began to happen. He learned to stay with it, rather than fantasizing about running away from the moment. This is what I believe my spiritual director means by befriending the fear.  The author quotes one of his Zen teachers, Ed Brown, who said, "The more deeply you can feel fear, the easier it will be to handle."

 David Guy ends his essay beautifully by writing, "Being free of fear is not a matter of never feeling it, but not being flattened when we do. We can feel it and know it is a natural phenomenon, also an impermanent one, which will have its say and be gone." 

I take from this that fear will always be with me, but if I can calmly stay aware, I can use the energy. However, I can use the energy only if I feel it as soon as it shows up. This has me thinking about the angels in the biblical texts who would often begin with the greeting, "Be not afraid!" and then they would begin to speak of the good news that they were bringing. The good news in all of this is that fear can energize us and make us stronger. Perhaps fear really is an angel in disguise, letting us know that we do not need to face the music alone.

 

   

"Do not forget to show hospitality... for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."

Hebrews 13:2  

     

   

The image is a photograph of a drawing I did a few years ago.

Epiphany Blessings, Finding the Path

 Friends, I am forwarding part of my SpiritCare weekly meditation to you all so I can extend Epiphany Blessings. Please excuse any duplication you have received. I have also included a photograph taken of the middle front door of the church of St. Aquinas in Reno. We spent an extra day in Reno, and took a morning walk as the snow melted from the night before.  A friendly greeter at the church told us that the copper came from a mine in Nevada. I was so stunned I forgot to ask about the artist. It was a beautiful morning.   

***

"When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod will soon search for the child..."  

Matthew 2:13    

  

Meditation: 

   

[On our recent trip ] I did miss celebrating Epiphany with the San Lorenzo Community Church, and as we travelled, I found myself pondering the journey of both the Holy Family and the Magi. The Christmas story is rich, and the older I get the more I love its mystery and wonder, as well as the reminder to listen to our dreams and intuition.  It is so easy to get wrapped up in the comings and goings of the Herods of our time. Yet, we know there is so much more to this sacred life we have been blessed with.  

When I walked into the house after our arrival, I laughed out loud. Our mantle was still decorated, and the four creches I had brought out of their boxes were still out. The Christmas mugs were still in the cabinet. The artificial poinsettias were still blooming, and the small gnomes from my childhood were still in their usual Christmas spot, and they were still smiling.  We opted to not decorate a tree because we knew we would be leaving just after New Year's, and I do not like to be hasty in taking down the decorations. I happily settled back into Epiphany, and yesterday, as I began preparations for this coming Sunday's worship service, I was reminded that Epiphany, like Christmas, is a season. A season of learning again to listen and to ponder, and to remember that not even the most desperate power wielding Herods can possibly outlast or outwit God. Glory be.   

I leave you for now with this beautiful Christmas prayer from the book, I Wonder as I Wander, The 12 Days of Christmas with Madeleine L'Engle by Bruce G. Epperly. On a whim I ordered the book before we left, so it, too, was waiting silently on the front porch to welcome us home.   

  

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER  

   

"'Brightest and best of the stars of the morning, 

dawn on our darkness and lend us your aid,' 

in the time in which leaders have 

lost their moral compass 

and the world is at risk. 

Let your starlight and sunlight 

shine in and through us, 

radiating forth to bring light to the world, 

love to the lonely, and hope to the fearful. 

Guide my feet, so that I might 

"go tell it on the mountain that 

Jesus Christ is born" 

right here and now in this holy moment. 

Let the Spirit of the Christmas Star 

guide me in the year ahead. 

With the Magi, let my life be a gift to Jesus 

and to all his children, human and nonhuman alike. 

In the Name of the Way-Maker and Life-Giver, 

let it be so!  

   

The last of my bayberry candles are lit, and I wish you all a blessed Epiphany season. 

   

Love and Blessings, 

Rev. Sue Ann 

   

hymns quoted:  

"Brightest and Best", Southern Harmony, 1835  

"Go Tell It on the Mountain", African-American Spiritual 

Finding the Path, Part 2 (Going the Distance)

 In order to get to Salt Lake City, we drove about 14 miles on 580 and then took the intersection in Emeryville connecting us to I80 east. Two days later, after driving about 726 miles along that same highway, we arrived in Salt Lake City. We found ourselves continuing to drive up and down 80 as we tended to the truck camper and explored the area. At one point, I looked up and saw a sign telling me that if we wanted to get to Cheyenne, we should continue going east on 80.  The sign did not tell us how long that would take, but at that moment, it seemed like we could probably get to the moon before we arrived in Cheyenne. I just read that it is about 440 miles from Salt Lake City to Cheyenne. If one wants to travel the entire length of 80 (San Francisco to Teaneck, NJ) a drive of 2,901 miles lies ahead of you. At this point, none of those journeys, yes, even to the moon, hold much interest for me. 

Yet, 80 and Salt Lake City both surprised me. I saw only one political billboard, and we were still in CA at the time. I really did not get a chance to read it, but as it targeted both Gov. Newsom and President Biden, I got the sense it was not a favorable review.  During the whole trip we did not even see one political bumper sticker. We saw plenty of US flags in Salt Lake, but no commentary. Tyler said he saw a trucking company with the name MAGA, but I missed it. We never did see a newspaper, so I cannot tell you what the local journalists were commenting on. 

On our way to The Great Salt Lake, I noticed that written on the back windshield of the car in front of us was the pledge of allegiance. It was professionally and tastefully done. Because we were waiting at a red light, I had the time to read the pledge and ponder the last words, "With liberty and justice for all."  I wondered if the driver really believed in such an egalitarian statement. I ask because sometimes I find the US falling short of that lofty and worthy ideal. However, I did not risk getting run over. I opted to stay in the car, and not try to engage the driver in political discourse. I really am not very good at that sort of thing anyway. The light turned, and we all drove on. Nonetheless, I was grateful to be reminded of this pledge that, if put into practice, could  help heal some of the wounds of our country's citizens, visitors, land, air, water, and creatures. 

  

The photograph attached was taken on the first evening just outside of Winnemucca, our destination for the night. Suddenly, as the sun set, we were surrounded in golden light. It was stunning. The next morning it was snowing. I was grateful for Tyler's experience in driving in snow, and for snowplows. My trust in the truck began to take root.

   

Yes, I80 is long and straight. However, the pavement was in great shape. I was sorry that we did not see more creatures, but we did not see any trash along the roads either. We took my father's long-time advice to heart: watch your weather and get off the road before dark. Tyler also got used to my belief that when the gas tank drops to about half full, it is time to stop, stretch our legs, and fill up. I think the Donaldson spirit of caution served us well.   

 

    

   

Image:  I80 East outside of Winnemucca, January 2024. The quality of the orginal photograph is a little better, but is  too large for this format. 

   

     

Finding the Path, Part 1

 A few months ago Tyler and I were talking about what we wanted to do with this time of our lives. While we are both still working and our schedules do not exactly mesh, we agreed that we needed to get out and see more. I said that I would be okay if I never travelled overseas again, but I really wanted to see more of the United States. What surfaced in our conversations was that first of all, we did not have a good travel vehicle. Tyler has an electric car which makes sense for his work, but honestly, the two journeys we took in it were somewhat frustrating because you pretty much need to stay close to main thoroughfares. It is not that I want to do off-roading, but it seems to me if you are going to be journeying about, it is nice to have the option to explore. My Elantra is not much better. An RV seemed out of the question. They are large and expensive to buy and maintain. We have friends who love their RV's but they just seem too much for us. Pulling a trailer also has no appeal.  

Tyler is a patient researcher, and what surfaced was the idea of installing a wedge camper on a Tacoma truck. While I have never really done much camping, I decided that we should give this idea a chance. We bought a low-mileage used Tacoma truck, and Tyler discovered Harker Outdoors in Salt Lake City, who was offering a sale on the construction and installation of wedge campers. Last week we drove to Salt Lake City to have the camper installed. Because we were travelling in the first week of January, and because I am pretty wimpy in the cold, we knew that we might not actually camp on this trip. That is what happened, but more on that later.  

 We spent two nights in Salt Lake City so we were able to visit Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake. The weather was chilly. However, when I stepped out of the Tacoma with my goose down jacket zipped, a wool cap in place, and some binoculars around my neck, I knew my life was changing, and that felt very good. We spotted bison and pronghorn antelope. I also found myself pondering lichen. I have been reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's book, Braiding Sweetgrass, and among numerous subjects she discusses is lichen, and how it is a bellwether of how healthy an environment is because it is very sensitive to air pollution. I am learning to take nothing for granted. 

   

I will write more about our trip as this week progresses, but today I will include some pictures of the camper both opened and closed, and a couple of photographs taken at the beautiful Great Salt Lake.  I also posted almost daily on Facebook during this trip. That was a lot of fun, and I felt deeply connected to those who regularly added their comments and prayers. 

"Our Indigenous herbalists say to pay attention when plants come to you; they're bringing you something you need to learn."  

Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

I think this is pretty much true of all that comes across our paths, including our dreams.  

 

Yes, I have fallen in love with a truck.