Summer Idle

When I am visiting in Grass Valley, I take in so many mountain forest sights and smells that it overwhelms me.  I wish I had the talent to capture it all - M.O. does a good job in the poem below.

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life? 

One of the 'tricks' of being in the mountains with friends, is knowing how, and enjoying, being idle.  That kind of behavior makes some people very anxious...that used to be me.  Now, I embrace the free space to read, or walk, or sit and watch a lizard do early morning pushups in the sun.  I sit outside and watch the squirrels chase each other round and round the pine tree, and listen to the motor whir of the humming birds as they dive bomb each other in their quest for space at the feeder.

In the early morning and day's end, the tick tick tick of the automatic sprinkler system signals that there is order in this wild place: plants are being tended and kept alive in the oppressive summer heat.  The petunias spill out of the blue ceramic pot; the squash on its lonely hill will soon dominate the wood-chip covered ground.  

We put our hands into the strawberry plants in search of ripe fruit that the birds have missed.  There are many hidden gems to be found, and they are warm and effervescent in my mouth. 

Of course this idleness is an illusion -- my hosts certainly are not idle.  If they were, none of this bounty would exist.  I am just the lucky and very happy recipient of their labors.  And extremely grateful for it all.

Lake Basin

Salmon Lake by Taradharma

There is a turning in the weather here. Hot days have turned into windy, cold ones; heralding autumn's arrival. This is beautiful country teeming with bird, mammal, fish and insect. While my friend bravely swam the lake from shore to shore and back, I sat on the gravel beach and watched what was going on all around me. There was a stiff wind, but if I was horizontal on the ground, I was warm. Along with the wind, there was also a profound stillness. I feel so very small in this landscape, and that's how I like to feel: insignificant speck that I am. It's a great paradox that feeling small expands my awareness to feel the connection with other living beings.

Think about the last time you were in such beauty. Go there now.

Road Trip!

I'm happy. Can you tell? Road trips usually make me giddy, and this is a good one: driving up to see Roger and Robin, see Lynn, possibly stop in to see my sis if the timing is right. I'm headed to places I've never been before: Grass Valley and Downieville, CA. These are the boonies, boys and girls. Yes, California has boonies, and lots of them.

Driving Labor Day weekend is a bit nutty, I know, but I figure the traffic will be less on Sunday. Right? Yes?! If not, I will be one unhappy camper.

Lessee...got my cooler, my coffee making supplies (apparently I am the only person on the planet still drinking the stuff), my RXs, my own pillows, camera, all devices electronic to keep me in touch with the world, swim suit for those streams and lakes, and scant clothing because I expect it will be warm up there in the wilds of northeastern California. Got my ipod, that's a must for when decent radio is not to be found. We're spoiled locally with great radio, and I'm usually disappointed with the on-air offerings when I travel.

The Pièce de résistance is a batch of homemade tomato soup that I froze specifically for my friends (hence the cooler). We're going to eat well, drink wine, laugh our assess off. I'll finally get to see their new home, and all the work they've done to get the farming set-up complete before winter. I may even do some weeding or hoeing for them. Who knows? More power to 'em if they can get my lazy ass moving in service of their future gourmet meals.

Here's to clear roadways, beautiful vistas, glorious tunes and laissez le bon temps rouler!

P.S. Trip made possible by my dear sweet wife who will be holding down the fort and beating, er, feeding the animals for me.

My Washington Experience

I am visually delighted by new vistas. During one day on Steamboat Island, we were treated to a variety of climates. M. and I walked the island at low tide, and still couldn't get all the way around. But I did get a lot of good photos. One photo I didn't take was the dead seal washed up, with its skull exposed while skin and hair was still present elsewhere. I thought I'd leave the beast in peace. The seagulls were having a feast.

Being at Steamboat for the weekend felt like being away for a week. A completely new environment and perspective. Yes!

Tassajara Experience - June 2008

Thanks to sunharper for a couple of additional Tassajara photos.  Being there in June was a first for me, and while it was greener than July or August, the biting flies kind of took the joy out of it.  There isn't enough Deet in the world to keep those stinging red insects away.  A very good reason to schedule your stay for August.

There was quite a large fire in the King City area, and as my companion and I reached the ridge top, ready for our descent into the gorge, the sky was glowing orange and black with smoke.  From the looks of the nearby cumulus clouds, the wind was blowing west, towards Tassajara.  B. and I stole side glances at one another, wondering if our much anticipated get away was going to be blown away.  Surely we would encounter a long line of cars coming the other direction, entreating us to 'go back! go back! they're evacuating!'  Nothing of the sort happened, so we kept going, figuring we'd find out the scoop when we arrived.  The center was smokey, and as we sat around the pool smashing biting flies on our flesh, there were plenty of morbid jokes about perhaps jumping into the pool when the flames were about to engulf us. Ha ha.  The the smoke came and went, we stayed, and it appears the joint is in no danger.

This group of students, who really are the worker bees that keep the place humming along, we not up to our expectations.  Meals were not as inventive nor delicious, the table service very lax.  Dissapointing.  But what did not dissapoint were our dinner guests -- we met some lovely people: a constitutional scholar/professor who teaches both at UC and American University in DC, a Jungian psychologist who grew up in London and has been in Berkeley for six years, a retired publisher, many psychotherapists, a couple of elementary school teachers and an old friend of ours who is a Buddhist priest who just happened to be vacationing at the same time.   Wonderful dinner companions - we shut down the joint each night.  The students, needing to get to the zendo for zazen, politely asked us to either finish up or clean up after ourselves.  We just got carried away with our talk.  We retired to the bridge near the zendo to continue, and dubbed ourselves the official greeting committee of Tassajara. I began to ask passersby if they would like a spritz of our latest cologne, a combination of deet and sunscreen with just a hint of rosemary.   Mmmmm.  I had been reading too much David Sedaris.

Eat. Read. Swim. Sleep. Bathe. Sleep.  Eat. Meander. Observe. Smile. (Oh, the smiles.) Smack a fly.  More deet.  A typical Tassajara weekend.  We were right on the river, Cabin 19, and oh what a pleaure to drift into sleep to the sound of water over rocks.  Hope you get there someday.  In August.

On My Way

I'm off to Tassajara Zen Center in 2.5 hours!  Yippee.  This photo is one of sunharper's photostream at Flickr.  Check it out.  Sunharper has managed to capture the essence of the place very well.  I've given up trying to do this with my camera - the results always dissatisfy.

Good-bye phones, ipods, computers, electric lights, television, radio.  Hello plentiful water, baths, swimming pool, books, dharma talks, excellent vegetarian food, restful sleep, sounds of the stream over rocks, the smell of sage and laurel, bird calls, bats at twilight, the morning bell calling folks to the zendo.

Back to the 'real world' Sunday evening.  Sigh.