Here and There

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Pentecost

I had so many great ideas for Pentecost.  When Sunday came though, we were sick, some of us had lice and we were not able to do anything other than watch movies and eat cookies.  On Monday we made a few sculpey creations, fires and a dove.  I put out the red fabric and that was it.  There was a drawing of a crab of Lily's that fit in with his orangeness.  And that was Pentecost this year.


I still feel inspired by the fire and the wind.  I am so enjoying this rare red that comes but once a year to the altar.  As I consider the long long season of ordinary time that approaches, I am thinking the lines:  "Green, green rocky road.  You promenade in green." from the old folk song.  How pretty is a promenade?  How rocky the path can still seem. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Big Sur

 Morning at New Camaldoli at the chapel.
 Golden hour at New Camaldoli.
As a sort of last hurrah I went on a retreat to the New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur.  Then the whole family came down and we went camping a little further south with CR and Zack.  I was glad CR was at the hermitage with me because it was unfamiliar and it was nice to have someone to whisper to every once in awhile.  But being there was so peaceful and I would love to go back.

I wrote, I slept and I read All the Light We Cannot See in it's entirety.  A good 5 days of nature and words and s'mores. 

I don't remember ever going to Big Sur before, ever going further south than Point Lobos, and it was so beautiful and vaguely nerve wracking to be so high up, so close to all the edges.  It was a funny little place.  I thought the people there seemed so young.  Which was weird. I think I expected men with long white beards and ladies in long crinkle skirts?  All in all, it had a good vibe.  But one that felt kind of exclusive?  Or maybe just protected?  It made me want to read some Kerouac and remember what it was all about then.  Something is definitely still in the air, there.

I felt lucky, thinking about California and loving this place and living in this place.  It was peculiar, driving home I was remembering my childhood here and how the landscape, the random bridges, the weather, the font on the roadsigns, all of it feels like part of my own self. 



Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Fully May

 Disneyland is such a happy place.  I love it.  We were lucky to be taken on a whirlwind weekend trip there and enjoyed it so much...





 Reading in the late afternoons on the couch with a piece of chocolate.

Mother's day/Emily's birthday picnic...heaven.  Fruit and flowers all warm in the sun...perfection. 

Soaking it up, baby.  Sabbatically speaking.

Another Sabbatical Poem, this one is from February, still rough though:



Sabbath/Storm and White Birds

A rare storm was coming in on Friday morning.

We stared west and watched it,

standing on the sidewalk, the wind raking over us.

The seagulls hovered,

Impossibly bright,

glowing white against that grey curtain.

It was stunning.

I stood with my hand shading my eyes, like I was staring toward the sun.

It never even rained that day and it was still coming in on Sunday when I sat in the wooden chair out back looking straight up this time watching the clouds.

Masses and masses of grey and white all moving quickly north.

The gulls were letting themselves drop and rise with the wind. Just freewheeling it.

I remembered him saying: “I think I actually have a pretty good idea of what flying would be like. I think my dreams are so vivid that I know what it would be like if I could fly.”

“So do I”, I said. “So does everyone. Everyone has those dreams, so we can all imagine it.”

We all have a pretty good idea of what it would be like. I can imagine it without much effort, almost like I’m remembering doing it.

So I just closed my eyes and the storm that was coming kept on coming until it passed us by, but I imagined what it would be like if it actually did storm and it was almost like remembering it.