The Brightness of the Soul

 "The human heart is a capacity for God. Prayer, then, is the development of the art of communion. We are called to develop the disciplines required for loving and open communion with God, the world, others, and ourselves. We need to recover the art of communion and so recover the universe as God's, and rediscover our roots in God, in the world, in one another, and in our inner selves." 

Rachel Hosmer and Alan Jones
   
When I first read this quote from Friends of Silence, I did not recognize these names although Alan Jones sounded vaguely familiar.  I searched the internet, and discovered that Rachel Hosmer was a nun and the founder of the Order of St. Helena. Alan Jones was an Episcopal priest and dean emeritus of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco.  I am finding that when I am researching a name on the internet, I frequently need to sort through names of basketball players, film stars, and CEO's.  Such are the times we find ourselves in. I am not entirely comfortable in these times, but I do not get a sense that God does not always call us to seek comfort; we are called to become aware. Sometimes that can be pretty uncomfortable. However, discomfort does not mean that we are doing something wrong. It means we are exploring what our souls long for us to know.    

          

    

image:  The Brightness of the Soul, June 2025

Thank you, Rachel Carson

 "Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. Whatever the vexations and concerns of their personal lives, their thoughts can find paths that lead to inner contentment and to renewed excitement in living. Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature--the reassurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

~ Rachel Carson in THE SENSE OF WONDER

Quoted in today's post from Friends of Silence 

If those in power would simply learn to view the world, not as a source of potential plunder, but rather as our sacred environment in which all live, much would change, and probably quickly. Let us remember: when Rachel Carson was working to stop the use of DDT, there were many who did not want to listen to the science, who did not want to risk change, who  feared the loss of profit. Yet, change did happen and because of her work, bald eagles, a majestic bird we in the US claim to love, still exist. As do all of us.   

 Today, on the day before summer begins, let us pledge to renew our sense of wonder and gratitude. Then in that Spirit, let us join those who are working diligently to protect national parks, open spaces, the air that all creatures breathe, and the water all creatures need. We are more than pawns of the propaganda that feeds only fear and the hunger for power. That is a hunger that can never be satiated, and it is deadly. 

Summer solstice blessings to you all. Remember, seasons do change. Take heart. 

   

image: I do not have a photograph of an eagle, but I celebrate these distant relatives.  Coyote Hills Regional Park, 2025 

 

     

Why I Keep Photographing Flowers (and trees and rocks and other stuff)

"Self-Portrait as a Tuning Fork"

There is, perhaps you’ve felt it,

a moment when the day falls away

and your name falls away and

everything you thought you knew

falls away and for a moment

you know yourself only

as whatever it is

that continues—

your whole body abuzz

with the eternity of it—

and you quiver

as if struck by the great hand

of what is true,

becoming pure tone,

a vibration, a wave,

a human-shaped resonator

tuned to the frequency

of life itself,

and though later you might try

to dissect what happened,

in that moment you’re too abloom

to wonder how or why,

you simply are

this ecstatic unfolding

knowing the self as I am,

so alive and so infinite

you tremble like a song.

~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

image: "Community", June, 2025, say

We Are...

 I love this poem. It encourages me to hold on to the belief that we are more than our minds. It encourages me to hold on to the belief that we are all connected. It encourages me to hold on to the belief that we are souls.  We do not have souls like we have a wallet. We are less, and we are more. 

Yo No Soy Yo

I Am Not I

I am not I.

I am this one

walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
the one who remains silent while I talk,
the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,
the one who takes a walk when I am indoors,
the one who will remain standing when I die.   

   

Juan Ramon Jimenez   

        

You don’t need to change who you are—you only need to remember.

Jack Kornfield 

   

image:  CA Buckeye with Ladybug, Oyster Bay, San Leandro
   

The Pull of Water, Part 2

 As I mentioned in my post entitled "The Pull of Water, Part 1" we camped one night in a beautiful site that overlooked Lake Pillsbury, and the night before that we camped at a site on the lake. There, we talked briefly with a soft-spoken man who lovingly spoke of the lake's beauty. He encouraged us to go see the other side of the lake to see the elk. On our way out of the forest we did indeed stop at the other side and walked towards the lake.  In the distance we could see the elk gathering at the water's edge. We did not actually walk as far as the edge of the lake in order to avoid disturbing the delicate flora.   

During our journey to the forest, we periodically spotted signs that read, "Save Lake Pillsbury". When I got home, I read that Lake Pillsbury is controversial because it came into existence when the Scott Dam was built on the Eel River in the 20's. Indigenous people and those who are ecologically oriented contend that the dam should be removed so that the river can again flow freely, and the dam has been decommissioned.  Certainly if the salmon and other fish of the Eel could actually have a say, I am sure that they would vote for freeing the river as well.   

Yet, for those who frequent the lake and for those who make a living on the lake, the decision is not so straightforward. Recreation and the quest for solitude aside, another consideration is that Lake Pillsbury is the closest source of water when there is a forest fire.  Some concern has been expressed about the elk. Fortunately, I knew nothing about any of this while we were there, so I could just innocently savor the peace of the lake before the area's vacation season was underway.  I found Lake Pillsbury to be a place of healing, yes even with the wind, and the memory of the lake is staying with me, partly because we were able to talk briefly with someone who loves the lake and who quietly encouraged us to "go and see the other side". 

Ultimately, that is why we travel. We learn to not only look, but also to see.   

  

    

image:  "The Other Side of the Lake", May 2025

Wisdom from Kabir

                                                          

                                       I had to seek the Physician 

because of the pain this world 

caused me.  

  

I could not believe what happened when I got there -

I found my 

Teacher.   

   

Before I left, he said, 

"Up for a little homework, yet?"  

"Okay," I replied.  

      

"Well then, try thanking all the people 

who have caused 

you pain.    

   

They helped you 

come to me."   

   

Kabir (1440 - 1518)   

    

   

image:  Tilden Park, May 2025

The Pull of Water, Part 1

When we entered the Mendocino National Forest, we saw on the map that Lake Pillsbury has a resort, marina, and campground. We decided that might be a good option for our first stop in the forest. We were surprised to find only a locked gate; the season was not yet open. Fortunately, a friendly young couple was close by and they pointed the way to an open campground on the lake.   

After we settled in, we walked down to the beautiful and peaceful blue lake. There we met a soft spoken man whose car had a canoe strapped on top. We greeted one another, and I commented on the beauty of the lake. He replied, "Yes, I come here often. My wife no longer joins me, but I still come. You must go to the other side so you can see the elk." His quiet demeanor gave me a sense that the lake was a place of solace for him, and that sense of respect became ours as well.  

Yet as I mentioned in my previous post, our intention for the next day was to drive up and over Hull Mountain (elevation 6,878 feet) and camp on the other side, and that is the journey we undertook. While most of the way was dry, we ran into some snow very near the crest of where we were to cross. Tyler stopped to walk through this patch to get a sense of what was around the bend, and to see if we would have the clearance we needed. He had said all along that if we came across slushy snow we would turn around, but over the past few months, he had equipped the truck with recovery gear should we get stuck. Nonetheless, I was very insecure about the possibility of getting stranded in snow in such a remote area. I did not grow up in snow country, and I am not drawn to it. I was going to walk with Tyler, but my balance, which is a little unsteady now, is particularly poor in the snow. As I slipped, I figured my tumbling and sliding off this mountain road was not going to be helpful so I did not continue. The wind was formidable, and so was my fear. 

When he returned, he said that he believed we did have the clearance we needed, but the road was narrow so if we needed to turn around, we might find it difficult. I reminded him that there was a fine spot to turn around just a few feet behind us. We talked some more, and our decision was made. We turned around, and on the way down we found a beautiful spot to camp that overlooked Lake Pillsbury.     

Tyler and I have always travelled well together, mainly because we listen to each other. We have talked at length about our decision. Could we have made it to the other side of the mountain? The answer will always remain unknown, and for now, the quest remains in the future. I am fine with that, and even though Tyler believed we could have gone forward, he respected my fear. I am grateful.        

Writing this, I am reminded that I am not much of an adventurer, but I still contend I am an explorer. I love going out and viewing terrain. I recently started reading Belden Lane's The Solace of Fierce Landscapes. In his book Lane contends that in our encounters of wild and fierce landscapes, and I would place Hull Mountain in that category, we are faced with a reality that we cannot manipulate. These places teach us humility as we learn to rely solely on God (think of Elijah in the cave).  I think these landscapes can be found just about anywhere that gives us a sense we have no control: hospital emergency rooms, at the side of a loved one who is passing, or in a stack of bills that must go unpaid for another month. 

        

More on Lake Pillsbury to follow. We did make it to the other side of the lake, and found it beautiful. There is controversy concerning this lake, and I will go into that yet another side of the lake as well.     

         

        

"Plants and animals change as one goes up the mountain, and so apparently do people."

Diana Kappel-Smith, Desert Time: A Journey Through the American Southwest, 

from The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, Belden Lane   

      

        

 

   

Image was taken on the ascent of Hull Mountain. It was so windy that I actually received a message that no photo or video could be taken. Here I practiced standing firm. The wind was very much part of the spirit of place.