A lovely poem

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I fly to New Mexico and live at Ghost Ranch for a week--my ninth trip to that beguiling place. Not much time for blog writing, so I decided to post one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems.

"Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond"

by Mary Oliver

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,

I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself —
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate

And especially it is wonderful

that the summers are so long

and the ponds so dark and so many,

and therefore it isn't a miracle

but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.

On this beautiful autumn day, I wish you well and pray for us all to have deep joy and peace!

Why those two lines persist in being so large, I have no idea.

Judge not...

I struggle with the "sin" of judgmentalism. Frequently I see some one or some situation and instantly decide that I know what's going on and why. Actually, I have no idea what's going on or why. Example: Yesterday the cashier at the grocery store seemed to have as much personality as a slug. I couldn't get even the remotest smile out of him. I almost reported his attitude to the manager on the way out. But instead I kept walking, wondering what was happening to him today. Very few people are just naturally "bad". I remembered how the more attractive guy at the next register was teasing him as he methodically scanned each item. Was that part of what ailed him? Was he not feeling well? Had his mother just died? Was he filled with self-hatred or self-pity?

OK, I can hear you responding that people need to be responsible, accountable, suck it up. We all have problems and we keep working. And yes, I agree. There are too many in our culture who seem totally preoccupied with self indulgence and an attitude of entitlement, which, by the way, we taught them.

I read a letter on Facebook from an emergency room doctor who described a female patient, on Medicaid, who had numerous tatoos, smoked a pack a day, wore gold jewelry, and ate her meals at take out restaurants. He opined that he shouldn't have to pay for her health care. I understand his judgment, but I also know he made a lot of assumptions based on appearances. And so did I. I blush to admit that I almost immediately assumed the woman was black. But I don't know that or her full situation and neither does he.

Of course we must make countless judgments every day. That's how we survive. Is that car going to stay in its lane or enter mine? Do I dare eat ice cream again today? There's one more step down; don't miss it. The sky is dark; I'll take an umbrella. My friend is using me again; I will not participate.

When it comes to politics and religion, watch out! We all have our beliefs and each of us thinks, no we know, we're right. And if I'm right, then you have to be wrong. There can be no in between, often enough. So others shouldn't condemn, but it's OK for me to condemn them? It's all condemnation, without understanding, no matter what "side" you take.

Our current national angst is the result of many complex factors and can't be reduced to one reason. But certainly a part of it is our fear, our need to be right, to be superior, to blame someone, anyone, for our troubles. I do it and so do you, whatever your views.

On a positive note, I recently drove into Bud Kouts Chevrolet's service area. From past experience I knew I'd need an appointment or at least I'd have to wait a while. All I needed was a bulb for my front right turn signal. When I told the service person, he said, "Oh, I can do that right here." In less than 5 minutes I was on my way and he didn't charge me a penny. How happy I was that my judgment was wrong. (That's why I have and will continue to do business there, by the way.)

So my intention is to suck it up and not so readily write off other people and their views. I know I won't succeed completely, but I will try. I can choose to withhold judgment until I have more complete information. I can pay more attention to my own short-comings and less to those of others. I can celebrate the overwhelming goodness of others and the innumerable blessings of life. I can trust that God will take care of things. I can't and I don't need to.

Coming to you from the excruciating beauty of a sunny fall day in Michigan!

Maybe you CAN go home again

I took a trip in late August, not the first since becoming a widow, by any stretch. But it was the first return to Northwest Michigan without Norris. Though it's been almost five years, I have resisted visiting those places that were so precious to us as a couple.

When my spiritual director invited me to her family cottage for a small, "free-form" retreat, it seemed like a gift. Soon after I accepted, dear friends invited me to Beaver Island. So I put the two together, spending half the week on Upper Herring Lake near Lake Michigan and the villages of Frankfort and Benzonia; the other half on that enchanted isle two hours by ferry from Charlevoix.

One of the women at the retreat asked if I'd like to drive to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. She'd never been there and had no idea how much that place means to me. With some trepidation and an ache inside, I said yes. In fact, I wanted to go, even though I also dreaded it. There are few places we enjoyed more than Glen Arbor and the surrounding area. And we adored Stocking Drive, making that incredible trek (by car) in every season but deep winter. And so my new friend and I drove the drive, stopping at the various look-outs, savoring this amazing part of the earth. It was a joy to "show" her this sacred land and she was deeply involved in the experience. She had packed a lunch and just happened to set the box down in a spot Norris and I visited and photographed numerous times. And so we ate and looked and listened and talked and it was OK. It was bittersweet, but it was OK.

Leaving the cottage retreat, I sort of drove through my early life, passing Interlochen, Traverse City, Elk Rapids, our home north of town, the roads I used to "park" on, and finally arriving in Charlevoix, the bustling tourist town. It was a great opportunity to remember and reflect on the life I've lived and the person I am.

Beaver Island was easier emotionally, as we hadn't spent much time there previously and I so enjoyed being with my hosts, as well as another dear friend, an island native. This island is fascinating, mysterious, beautiful and wild. It is definitely an Emerald in the "sea" of Michigan.

Much of the week I spent in silence and reflection--listening to the winds, looking and looking at the trees and the clouds and the water, enjoying the creatures, including people. The earth nurtured me like a mother and I am renewed. Thank You, God, for the infinite means You use to reveal Your Self to us!

I guess summer is over as of today, so I wish you a good new school year, dear reader. May you find your renewal as is best for you!

Such wonderful variety!

One of the many things which I appreciate in life is the vast variety amongst all species, including us. Recently I have been especially mindful of that. I've picnicked with a group of Turkish Muslim people who have enriched my life immeasurably and wept as one of the families moved on to another place.

This past weekend I spent several hours at the East Lansing Folk Festival where I saw and/or spoke with people from all over the world--really interesting people. (I wish others would notice what an interesting community this is, instead of grousing about it being "dull". It's only dull if you're not really looking.)

Among the nicest people I've met, is Scott Harris, who started Everybody Reads Bookstore in Lansing almost five years ago. We spent several hours tending his book display at the Festival and when not talking with Festival-goers, we were deep in meaningful conversation about all sorts of things. No shallow "where did you get that cute hat?" sort of talk for us! We dive deep! I so admire someone with the courage to offer the community a local bookstore/gathering place, particularly open to those who might be overlooked or rejected in other settings. By the way, to put in a plug, the store is on E. Michigan Ave. next to Gone Wired Cafe', which is also a neat place to hang out. If you care whether Lansing has any independent bookstore (this is the last one), please consider visiting it and spending some money, too. (I do not have an financial interest in the store!)

The variety in the rest of nature is amazing, as well. The view from the large window above my computer desk is less than spectacular. In fact, in earlier years I rather hated it. After all, it was just the house close next door, their yard, and a bunch of trees. That was how I "saw" it. As time went on, however, and I became more contemplative I began to see the beauty there--the colors, the shapes, and the wonderful sky.

I planted a butterfly bush near this window several years ago and it has grown large enough that the branches are visible to me as I write. It is loaded with lovely lavender blooms. That would be rich in itself, but it attracts all sorts of creatures--bugs, actually--and today I've made the acquaintance of a large Tiger Swallowtail butterfly. From tip to tip it must be at least 5" wide. It's been around all morning, along with several bees and some small white butterflies. I have a bird's eye view, so to speak, as they drink from the tiny blossoms. For some reason, the squirrels and birds aren't so visible today, but yesterday there were two rabbits in the yard, one huddling in the deeper grass (yes, I need to mow), thinking I didn't see it, or hoping so anyway.

Of course, there are my two cats, as different from each other as can be, and my little Tessa dog, who is unusual to say the least. After a long period of not accepting her, the cats have finally come around, sort of. It's so cute to see Willie run down the sidewalk next to Tessa (they are about the same size) when we go out in the morning. And often, Nellie is looking out at us from my bedroom window.

I think of my dear ones and the amazing people who visit my home for spiritual sustenance and guidance! Each one is unique, yet they/we are all so similar. Isn't life something, folks? Even if you "don't got religion", on a day like this it's pretty hard not to give thanks to Someone!