Reflections

As I was pondering my thoughts for this New Year in anticipation of writing in January, I found myself reflecting instead on the past. Allowing myself to follow the urge, I reviewed some of my writings over the past six years. And there I found a lot that is still true for me today. Yes, I know I wander. And I know I've admitted to you that my truth is my truth for the moment. I've warned you that I will contradict myself. So I was surprised to see how much is still true for me today.

So instead of a 2006 New Year article, I've gone back and summarized twelve things that are still true for me today. I'm going to take one each month of 2006 and focus on it as my personal theme for the month. Here the are. Enjoy!

In January I'm Surrendering:
Surrender control rather than seize it. Let go and trust. A life full of preparation for situations that are yet only imagined is not much of a life at all.

In February I Will Step Into the Unknown:
One of the most powerful things we can do is step fully, freely and without hesitation into the unknown. To become comfortable with the unknown is to experience freedom. To make the leap without all the answers, to step into the darkness without expectation of what is to come, to embrace the unknown as not just a place to begin but a place in which we wallow, rest and soak up our inner essence is incredibly powerful. The unknown is where your imagination can take hold. And it's imagination that transcends time and place.

In March I Will Focus on Having Enough:
When enough truly is enough, what we desire moves in and out of our life naturally. There is enough for us; there is enough for everyone. We have the ability and freedom to nurture others and ourselves. When we appreciate the enough-ness in our lives, our enough-ness appreciates.

In April I’ll be a Child in Nature:
In nature, I more easily find time to connect with myself. It was only after I grew up and met so many other adults who did not “take to the wilds” that I realized that extracting oneself from nature tends to leave a person a little off. Wilderness for me is an instant transfusion. Nature is authentic. It is exactly what it seems to be. Be a grownup if you must. But be a grownup who knows the secrets children know. Go to the wilds.

In May I’ll Remember to be Without Goals:
Stop making excuses. If you're saying, “I’ll be dancing lightly when I achieve my goals,” you're missing out. I say dance lightly now and let your goals come to you out of that joy. Step into your delight, happiness, joy and let success find you. Life is a process, not a product. No stop along the way or altered path is a mistake. Turn your back on the product, the outcome, the goal, and pay attention to enjoying the process, the hunt. Then the elusive will present itself. It always does. It has no choice.

In June, I’ll Step Into the Flow:
Flow is not always the shortest path. When the creek encounters resistance, like a rock, a downed tree or the dam the beavers are building just down stream from me, it does not go through that block. The creek is not concerned with keeping the path short. It goes around, over or underneath the resistance as a way to stay in flow. Yes, over time, it wears down the resistance, but that's not its primary concern. So like the creek, when we take the path of least resistance, we too flow. Is your vision something you mentally design and, if done right, leads to flow? Perhaps. But it might take more than a few tries to get it right. I like to believe that vision is something that comes to you when you are in flow. My suggestion—go stand in a creek.

In July I’ll Hone My Skills at Becoming Lost:
The price we pay for the freedom of being lost is to be vulnerable. The gift we receive from the freedom of being lost is new, unexpected and random things like unforeseen circumstances, interesting people and odd surroundings. It stimulates us. If we pay the price of vulnerability, we can let go of being threatened simply because we are lost. We learn to not waste our energy panicking about the direction we should take.

In August I’ll Take On Opportunities Rather than Musing About Possibilities:
Yes, we can remain on the riverbank and discuss and wonder at the possibilities. But the river is going somewhere. There are trees, streams, rocks and trails on the other side waiting to be explored. There are fish to be caught! There are people along the river who have stories to tell about their own opportunities taken. Find the opportunity in the possibility and take it.

In September I’ll Relish Being Much Less Than Perfect:
When we let go of perfection, allow ourselves to do things imperfectly, we come to see how perfect we are, just the way we are. It's a subtle difference but it's true. Our lives can be more perfect when we let go of perfection.

In October I’ll Explore New Rhythms:
Our own rhythmic actions have a common thread with the Universe. It would serve us well to note that our accomplishments are not solely a result of our skills and knowledge. Our accomplishments also come from our choice of rhythm. Our rhythm or cadence comes from our use of time, space and motion. As we learn our own rhythm, changing it in a heartbeat when we feel the urge, we learn to listen and know. We listen and know others. We listen and know nature. We listen and know ourselves. And the songs we sing out into the world, each with their own unique rhythm, will continue long after we're gone.

In November I’ll be Freely Vulnerable:
What is so frightening and at the same time so wonderful about a new beginning? What excites me is the freedom inherent in every new beginning. What scares me is that I am vulnerable. Yet I can't separate the two. If I'm to be free, I'm to be vulnerable. I become energized by the possibility of freedom that a new beginning brings. When I seek to lessen my vulnerability by trying to cover all the contingencies, I actually diminish my freedom and the new beginning becomes too small for me. Our lives and work must envelop freedom or they come down to nothing more than a means of providing.

In December I’ll Ride Into 2007 on My Intuition:
Trust your intuition and your dreams. Be open to possibility. See the unlikely. Think the unthinkable. Imagine the improbable. Life's biggest opportunities are often hidden to all but our intuition.

"There are many spokes on the wheel of life. First, we're here to explore new possibilities." ~Ray Charles

Rhythms

Snow, melt, snow, melt, snow, melt, snow, snow, snow. This seems to be the cadence and rhythm in Northern Michigan. Right now, it’s snowing, and snowing….18 inches in 24 hours this past weekend. On Thanksgiving I thought the driveway shoveling had begun for the season. Then it all melted and I was left wondering why I’d worked so hard. My blisters healed. And then it happened again.

This rhythm and cadence is everywhere in nature. The creek too is in rhythm. As the snow melts, it rises and rushes. Now that the cold is back, its life is much more subdued. The sun that was so high in the sky a few short months ago now never rises above the treetops in my yard. There are hard rocks now buried in the soft snow in the field near my home. Birds, bright during the summer months have dulled to earth tones. Light summer breezes have made way for howling winter winds. Lapping waves will soon be frozen solid and silent. The delicate calls of birds looking for a mate have turned into more anxious announcements that food has been found.

Our own rhythmic actions have a common thread with the Universe. It would serve us well to note that our accomplishments are not solely a result of our skills and knowledge. Our accomplishments also come from our choice of rhythm. Our rhythm or cadence comes from our use of time, space and motion. It’s that wonderful nap before we leap into action. It’s the slow breaths we take in meditation that leads us into the unknown. It’s that long held pose in yoga that guides us to a new understanding of our body and mind. It’s the quiet humming before we break into song. The way we use time, space and energy in these moments makes our journeys interesting. As we learn our own rhythm, changing it in a heartbeat when we feel the urge, we learn to listen and know. We listen and know others. We listen and know nature. We listen and know ourselves. And the songs we sing out into the world, each with their own unique rhythm, will continue long after we’re gone.

"An artist must possess Nature. He must identify himself with her rhythm, by efforts that will prepare the mastery which will later enable him to express himself in his own language." ~Henri Matisse

"Everything has rhythm. Everything dances." ~Maya Angelou

Night Walks

Lately, I've been taking longer than usual walks. I feel an urgency to wear the dogs and myself out before firearm deer season starts on November 15 and, for two weeks, we're confined to house and yard during the daylight hours.

On November 15th, I’ll become a night walker, keeping my head down to avoid getting smacked in the face by an unseen branch. Sometimes, when I'm in particularly thick woods, I turn my headlamp on. But I prefer to travel at night without it. I like the mystery. Without sight, sound and smell become more acute. I pick my way along the creek by listening to the water's flow. I judge the distance I've traveled by the smell of the familiar cedar trees and swamps along the creek.

When there is some moonlight, just enough to see shapes beyond the immediate three feet in front of me, the trip becomes even more interesting as my mind becomes more engaged. The small white pine branch gently waving in the breeze becomes something else in my mind. Is it man or beast? Is it watching me? Could it be following me?

Not long after we begin our walk, the dogs move on ahead and well out of the range of my senses. They don't have the dependence on sight that hinders my night travel. Sometimes, they are led by their noses in a big circle and come back to me from behind. I stand frozen as I hear their thundering approach and it takes me a few seconds to interpret what has happened.

Unlike the day, when blue jays, nuthatches, chickadees and ravens fill the woods with sounds, night is for the owl. One will call close by and the other will return the call from a distance, both cries echoing off the steep banks of the creek.

Occasionally a tree will fall. It happens infrequently enough that it takes me a few minutes to calm myself and remember that the beaver, like the owl, are night workers.

A quivering pine branch, the rustling of leaves behind me, a falling tree, and the hooting of a couple of great horned owls are the perfect formula for a messy mind to create all kinds of mystery and peril. But there's nothing to do but go on. I'm in the middle of it now and going back will not be less difficult than moving forward.

And finally there are lights. It's the hunting camp of my friends who have been coming north for the last 40 years to hunt the woods just south of my house. Another passage into the unknown has been navigated successfully and I'm rewarded by warmth and friends. I’ll visit for awhile, rest and enjoy the campfire. Then the dogs and I will follow the two-track back to my home.

As I reach the end of that two-track and cross the open field that leads to my house, I'm awed by the beauty of that field at night. On a night with at least some moon and a slight breeze, the lichen glistens like pools of silver and the dead grasses bend to those silvery pools as though drinking nectar.

I sometimes wonder why I choose to start my walk through the woods along the creek, picking my way, when this perfectly good two-track can easily serve as a way to accomplish dog walking after dark and avoid the dangers, both real and imagined, in the dark woods. But I know the truth about myself. I love the mystery and the unknown of the woods at night. And, truth be told, the adrenaline isn't bad either. I feel so much more awake and alive when I reach that campfire. It's just two weeks in November. I’ll recover.

Get to know a place in the wilds. Get to know it well by day. Then experience it at night and get to know yourself anew.

“Mystery is at the heart of creativity. That and surprise.” ~Julia Cameron

“Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity.” ~R. I. Fizhenry

Benign or Bothersome, It's Your Choice

I've certainly stumbled on more than my share of black bear this year. And I've written about quite a few of them. Here's yet one more muse with bear as the subject. So please “bear” with me. I don't make ‘em up, I just write ‘em as they happen.

You know about the Law of Attraction, Universal Law, Spiritual Law, Quantum Physics; that, what we focus on we create. With fear thoughts, we can manifest disasters right into existence and with energizing, exciting and playful thoughts we can also create that which we most desire.

On my September fishing trip to Northern Ontario, we had driven as far as we could and were standing by the train tracks in Hawk Junction, gear piled high, waiting for the train to take us farther north. Now Hawk Junction is not much of a town. There's the train station, a small convenience store and the very old Big Bear Hotel and Bar. The rest of the town is residential. So I was not surprised to see a small bear wandering back and forth across the tracks to the south of us and a much bigger bear doing the same to the north. There's not much in Hawk Junction to disturb them.

We were a party of four from Northern Michigan and somewhat used to bear. The other party of six waiting to catch the train and be dropped off at the same camp were, however, much more uncomfortable with these bear. Two men in that group were overly concerned and could not stop expressing their fearful thoughts about bear encounters. Even on the train ride up they were having disturbing conversations about bear attacks. The rest of us had pretty much a live and let live attitude about black bear.

And sure enough, as soon as we got to camp we were told by the owners that there had been two bear in and around camp all summer. That we just needed to look where we were going when walking around. Mike, one of the owners, said he saw them every day and enjoyed them. His wife, Hanna, said she did not mind knowing that the bear were there but she didn't care to see them. Consequently, she had not seen one all summer. ChiChi, the camp cat, wasn't talking. So we were 10 guests, two camp owners, one black cat and two black bear in camp all week.

Now here's what we each manifested. It was the last week of camp and Hanna never did see a bear. That made three full months without a sighting, even though these two black bear were practically living at camp. Her husband, Mike, continued to see them every day. Those of us who had little concern, got plenty of opportunity to see the bear and were not bothered by them. And what about the two guests who were fearful? They got their fish and gear messed with and had some frightful outhouse experiences. They blamed it on rogue black bear. I'm thinking it was much more about rogue, black thoughts.

"That the birds of worry and care fly over your head, this you cannot change, but that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent." ~Chinese Proverb

It's Your Thing

Summer is waning and we're heading fast into my very favorite time of year. Oh my, September has arrived in Northern Michigan and I'm excited. Fall in the northwoods is outstanding and September has to be the absolutely best month of all!!

Many of you know that I see more than my share of wildlife close to home. The south side of my property borders thousands of acres of State Forest. I live in these woods and have a good five acres between me and any neighbors to the north. But occasionally I’m reminded they are there, usually on holidays when the neighborhood comes alive with the sounds of music, children, and the occasional piece of power equipment. As the crow flies, my neighbors are pretty close. As the dog wanders, it’s not such a short path. So on this Labor Day, when I discovered my dogs had decided to go on a little outing, I headed north, not expecting to see much wildlife. But I knew the dogs would head towards people, activity and, most importantly, food.

As I marched up the road and came within earshot of yapping dogs and the smell of BBQ, I was sure I would find my runaways. This first stop was a Labor Day family reunion that looked more like a blend of Johnny Cash and Elvis convention goers. Everyone was dressed in black, complete with either biker boots or cowboy boots and big belt buckles. And just what bottle did all that black wavy hair come from? There were a lot of little dogs I could not identify. But you know the kind. The ones that can easily sit on your lap and discriminately snack right off the plate of picnic food you’re balancing on your knees. I politely accepted some potato salad as I was told my dogs had just come through heading north. As I moved on in my search, the karaoke machine was being turned up to full volume and one of the senior members of the group was at the microphone belting out his rendition of “I Walk the Line.”

One more house to the north found me in the middle of a big truck Labor Day party. In fact that’s exactly what the sign said, “Big Ass Truck Crossing.” It appeared everyone came to this event in trucks you could only access with a step ladder. I’m guessing that’s not how they really get in those trucks. Pulling out your little ladder does not quite seem manly enough for this group. But I was too shy to ask these beefy, beer-embolden guys for details. If anyone knows the real secret to getting into one of these “bad” machines, please email me. Besides, I had dogs to hunt down and the smell of grilled meat wafting through the neighborhood woods suggested I had my work cut out for me. These jumbo men were, however, incredibly friendly as they offered me a beer and jovially informed me my dogs had just moved through and headed across the creek.

So I rolled up my pants and made my way to stop number three. These dogs on the other side of the creek were all hounds and this appeared to be some sort of Labor Day, pre-hunting season gathering. I can’t report much about the food at this event except that it was most likely wild game that had been simmering for some time in a gravy sauce. I accepted an offered piece of venison jerky and moved on. Hound dogs baying as I exited.

Next door were more pickup trucks. But this time the trucks were not quite so high off the ground or laden with dog boxes and spot lights. Instead each truck had a ladder rack and a tool box in the bed. This group was building a log cabin. Grilled kielbasa and hot dogs was the fare. I opted for a handful of chips and kept moving as I was told my dogs had last been seen heading back across the creek.

I felt a little like Alice in Wonderland as I watched the farmer who lives down the road and his buddies fly over the tree tops of my neighborhood in their ultra lights. Ah, if only I had that advantage on my dog search. Alas, that was not the way I was traveling. I rolled up my pant legs and waded back into the creek.

I finally caught up with the delinquent pooches at the most famous of all Labor Day traditions, the annual yard sale/picnic. Chicken was on the grill. I opted for a piece of chocolate cake as I made my purchase of a wooden-handled spatula.

With my runaways in tow, a new spatula and a full belly, I hoofed it home while wondering how, in a world of such diversity, we’re able to find those we will most connect with. Our choice of pets, food, and transportation seem to be some common factors. I’ll keep you posted as I figure it out. I can suggest that if you want to experience some wildlife and diversity in your own neighborhood, you might start by owning a couple of dogs. Or is it that they own you?


"While the spirit of neighborliness was important on the frontier because neighbors were so few, it is even more important now because our neighbors are so many." ~Lady Bird Johnson