The Taste of Aging

 The tangerine, hard and leathery, sat in the basket 
with some obviously much fresher fruit.

 I picked it up. 

"Not edible," I judged, and started to toss it in the green waste.  

For some reason, I stopped and cut it in half.

Curiosity, I guess.  

The fruit, yes very small, was deeply colored like sunset.   

I cut the halves once more, and tentatively tasted. 

The sweetness overwhelmed me;

 How could something so small and withered  

quench such a deep thirst that I never knew I had?  

    

say/2025    

     

image:  Villa Maria, October 2025

Locating

 In the dream I am looking for a new place to live.

 I have packed a few things;

I am ready to go.

I read a post by a famous writer. He mentions an apartment by a peaceful river.   

I think, "Yes, that is where I would like to go."  

I then realize that I do not know where this place is. 

 I send the famous person a note asking him for the location.  

What I received was a clear plastic gift bag, 

something like what one would receive at a conference. 

Like most conference gift bags, it held nothing of value (at least to me).  

 I set it aside and then walk through a large square building

 that is painted a sort of tan. 

Everything is a varying shade of brown or tan: outside, inside, 

even the carpet.

Not very interesting but certainly functional. 

I have dreamt of this building several times. Sometimes Tyler is with me;

Sometimes not. In this dream, he is not. 

Instead, I am walking with a young woman who with some authority, 

seems to be showing me around.

I spot an open space 

at the end of the hall by the stairs on the second floor of this multi-floor building. 

In these dreams I am always on the second floor. 

There I find a large desk. In fact, that is all this space holds.  

I sit at the desk and say, "This is perfect."

The young woman expresses concern:

"There is nothing here but a desk. Not even a door or a wall."   

Not looking at her but rather at the desk,

 I respond, "This is all I need."   

 

I then remember I have lived in this building all along.    

     

 

image:  Taken in Santa Cruz in October 2024. I think I may call it, "Vision While Pondering a Desk".

Connecting

 I spent Monday - Thursday of this week at Villa Maria in Santa Cruz.  Every October, I meet with friends with whom I studied spiritual direction. We graduated from San Francisco Theological Seminary in 2007 and we have been meeting every year since then, including meetings on Zoom when we cannot not meet in person. Villa Maria, a Sisters of the Holy Names retreat center, overlooks the ocean, and it is a beautiful place, simple but meticulously maintained. Upon arrival, there was the smell of fish in the air - a very encouraging smell in October for it signals the arrival of anchovies, and anchovies signal the arrival of hundreds of pelicans, gulls and other sea and shore birds as well as whales, otters, and seals. For a while, I could forget my concerns about election campaigns and global warming and simply give thanks for the anchovies that were nourishing life all around me.    

At lunch a couple of days later, several people, including some visiting nuns in full habits, were excitedly talking and looking out the dining room windows. A whale had been spotted. Yet, as I looked out, my vision kept returning to a tiny hummingbird visiting the gardens below the windows. I felt a connection between the whale and that tiny hummingbird. Nothing is truly separate.

Another moment then came to mind. The day before I left for Santa Cruz, I was standing along the fence in the backyard watering a fuschia that grows there. On my neighbor's side there is a board that stretches along the length of the fence. I call this board the "squirrel highway" as it gives the neighborhood squirrels and the occasional cat an above ground route to and from the front and back yards.

As I was watering and probably talking to the fuchsia because that is what I do, I suddenly heard the sound of a galloping squirrel by my head. The sound startled me, and I wondered why the squirrel was expending so much energy.  I then noticed a black bug on the fence that was quickly scuttling away. I realized that this small creature and I and the squirrel were sharing surprise.  Regardless of the stance that some politicians are trying to take in this election, we are indeed knitted together, and need to stay that way.  Our existence depends on it.

  

This image was taken at Villa Maria this year.  I thought I had an older photograph of the cypress tree that is partly seen here, but I could not find one. It is a beautiful old tree where people and crows gather to chat, rest, and view the world around them. Last winter's storms obviously took a toll on this venerable being.  I played my flute to the tree, and felt my own roots deepen. This is indeed a time for all creatures to hold on together.

      

        

image: Villa Maria, October 2024