Busy Bees

After a long, stressful workweek, I was feeling a bit anxious last night with nothing to do and nowhere to go so I started looking over my books on my bookshelf and decided to browse Sigurd Olson's "Reflections from the North Country" (my favorite Minnesota Northwoods writer). I opened to page 27 and read:

"Our lives seem governed by speed, tension, and hurry. We move so fast and are caught so completely in a web of confusion there is seldom time to think. Our cities are veritable beehives dominated by the sounds of traffic and industry. Even at the top of the highest buildings, one is conscious of the hive's human busyness.
[...]
In the wilderness there is never this sense of having to move, never the feeling of boredom if nothing dramatic happens. Time moves slowly, as it should, for it is a part of beauty that cannot be hurried if it is to be understood. Without this easy flowing, life can become empty and hectic."

Synchronicity - it's am amazing thing. Here I was still buzzing with all of the work tasks I had completed earlier in the day and thinking about the ones I hadn't, leaving me with a feeling like I should be doing something - anything - as long as I wasn't idle. When lo and behold, Sigurd shows me the error of my ways.

So I made myself a cup of tea, sat down in my favorite chair and let Sigurd continue to work his magic.

I was at peace once again.

To Blog Just to Blog

In my Oct 1st entry, I stated that I was going to challenge myself to log an entry for everyday in October. Well, I've quickly realized that instead of logging entries that really have a special meaning to me and come from my own personal experiences, I'm logging entries just to check that day off my list. Now don't get me wrong - what I have logged from Emerson and others are excerpts that mean a great deal to me and I think they convey what the Spirit of the Northwoods is all about but I still get the feeling that I'm just doing it to say it's done.

So from now on I will only blog when the spirit moves me. If that means blogging once-a-month than so be it. At least I will feel like the entry is coming more from within me than just from a copy-and-paste.

So if you are one of the few that read this blog, don't think I'm blowing this blog off if you don't see an entry for a while. I'm simply waiting for my muse to light that fire.

On Nature's Beauty

To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again. The heavens change every moment, and reflect their glory or gloom on the plains beneath. The state of the crop in the surrounding farms alters the expression of the earth from week to week. The succession of native plants in the pastures and road-sides, which make the silent clock by which time tells the summer hours, will make even the divisions of the day sensible to a keen observer.

- Emerson

The Men That Don't Fit In

The Men That Don't Fit In
    - Robert Service

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
    A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
    And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
    And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
    And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
    They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
    And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
    What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
    Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
    With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
    Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
    Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
    In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
    He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
    And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
    He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
    He's a man who won't fit in.

Never Fail You

Short but sweet and to the point.

In the Woods

In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,--no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground,--my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space,--all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part of particle of God.

- Emerson

A New Start

It's October 1st today. Can you believe it? I can't. The time of flip-flops and warm sunny walks along a soft, sandy shore are over. It is Autumn. And Autumn for me is a time for reflection. A time to think "deep, and suck out all of the marrow of life." A time for change.

So, it is my challenge to myself to log an entry for every day in October. Thirty-one entries for thirty-one days. You may think that that isn't that big of an accomplishment. Well, if you look back at all of my entries, I rarely log more than one entry a month. So for me, this is going to be quite the challenge.

On that note, I'll leave you with these words from Ralph Waldo Emerson, followed by a personal experience which reflects this passage:

To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, -- he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. - Emerson

How many of you have felt that 'perfect exhilaration' and have been 'glad to the brink of fear'? I have and it was the most amazing feeling I had ever felt in my entire life. As I was walking through the woods around dusk, with the waning light of day softly filtering through the thick woods, I felt enveloped within her spirit. I held out my hands as to walk hand-in-hand with her and could feel her presence all around me. We danced together down the well-beaten path. Me smiling all the way.

I wish I could say this happens to me every time I'm in Nature, but I'm sad to say it doesn't. In fact, there are maybe only two or three times that I can remember feeling this particular way. But the times it has happened will never be forgotten.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Chance?

On Saturday I decided to head to my favorite small river in search of my favorite fish - catfish. It was a beautiful day with a slight breeze and temps in the upper 70s; perfect fishing weather.

I pulled off at my favorite campground and after pulling on my waders and gathering up my gear I made my way to the nearest riverbank. What I found was a little disheartening - the water was really low. It was so low that I could see the bottom from bank-to-bank. Not the ideal condition for fish to be wandering in.

But I wasn't going to let a little low water ruin my day. After all, as I stated earlier, it was a beautiful day and I wanted to be exactly where I was. So I hiked up my waders and proceeded to make my way downstream.

Well, I found a few deep holes and caught a few small fish - all released to fight another day. But by far my best catch of the day was this tiny little flower growing out of the root of a dead, fallen tree that was lying in the middle of the river. This dead tree, which is covered with water eighty percent of the year, was providing life to this small, fragile yellow flower. What are the chances? What are the chances that a seedling landed softly on the small root of this tree, took hold, and blossomed in all of its glory, all within the short time that the root was released from its underwater grave? I know a lot of naysayers would say it's extremely likely since a lot of plant life can be found around a river but I like to believe differently. What do you think?


Please click on the photos to view a larger image of this miracle of life.

Nature More

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar,
I love not man less, but Nature more.

-- Lord Byron

Stillness

I recently returned from a trip to Voyagers National Park and have to say I have not been that relaxed and at peace with myself in quite some time. While there, I did a lot of reading and took a lot of beautiful pictures, which I will share here in this and future posts.

I came across this very fitting passage while I read on a rock that overlooked this magnificent vista:

"But for the time being, around my place at least, the air is untroubled, and I become aware for the first time today of the immense silence in which I am lost. Not a silence so much as a great stillness - for there are a few sounds: the creak of some birds in a juniper tree, an eddy of wind which passes and fades like a sign, the ticking of my watch on my wrist - slight noises which break the sensation of absolute silence but at the same time exaggerate my sense of the surrounding overwhelming peace. A suspension in time, a continuous present. If I look at the small device strapped to my wrist the numbers, even the sweeping second hand, seem meaningless, almost ridiculous. No travelers, no campers, no wanderers have come to this part of the desert today and for a few moments I feel and realize that I am very much alone...I wait. Now the night flows back, the mighty stillness embraces and includes me; I can see the stars again, and the world of starlight. I am twenty miles or more from the nearest fellow human, but instead of loneliness I feel loveliness. Loveliness and a quiet exultation." - Edward Abbey

God talked to me this day as I felt an overwhelming peace and stillness wash over me while watching the sunset intermingle with the high wispy clouds producing colors that not even this picture could hope to reproduce.

What I experienced while wrapped in this stillness could never be truly explained - only felt.

Framed in Space

I cannot believe it has been well over a month since my last post! Where has this summer gone?!? And what did I do with it? Believe me, not all that I had wanted to - like keep up this blog.

I'm currently reading, Choosing Simplicity, by Linda Breen Pierce and found a passage that hit me in the core of my being because it is exactly how I've been feeling lately.

"Anne Morrow Lindbergh, in her classic book, Gift From the Sea, reflects on the negative aspects of a life cluttered with activity. In contemplating the beauty in life, Lindbergh observes, 'For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms.' Lindbergh refers to the beauty of a tree framed against an empty sky. She reflects that a note in music gains significance from the silence on either side, and that a candle flowers in the space of the night. Lindbergh concludes that her life lacks these qualities - and therefore beauty - because there is so little empty space. So few empty hours on her calendar, or empty rooms in her life in which to stand alone. Too many activities, too many people, too many things. Clearly, our activities as well as material possessions can clutter our lives. If all our energy is devoted to our work, if there are no 'spaces' around that work, where is the beauty in our lives?"

It seem like this summer that is all I've done - jumped from one thing to another with no empty spaces in between. I need space. I need to think and ponder the things that I like to ponder. I need alone time. Me time.

Got to go.

Time Travel

Well, I did it. Tonight, I traveled back in time. No really. I was 10 or 11 again. Or at least that's how I felt.

You see, I was on my nightly bike ride (the only exercise I can tolerate - well, that and hiking) and it was hot and humid - 87 with a 67 degree dew point, my favorite kind of Summer weather. And as I was meandering through the various bike trails, I noticed some heavy clouds building to the west. And not the white fluffy innocent variety but the super tall Cumulus Nimbus type. The type you usually don't want to mess around with by being outside. But being the adventurous spirit that I am I decided to keep going because I had not seen any lightning or heard any thunder.

It turned out to be one of the better decisions that I have made in quite some time because it started to rain. And not just a little rain but an honest-to-goodness downpour, or as Forrest Gump would have called it "A big fat rain". At first, I felt a slight trepidation because I was an adult getting caught in the rain. Adults aren't supposed to get caught in the rain. But as I continued, I let all of that trepidation go and just went with it. There I was riding down the road, face turned into the rain, and smiling. Just smiling. Smiling.

And for a brief moment, I thought I heard my Mom yelling at me to get in the house before I catch a cold. But I kept pedaling and smiling.

Just a few more minutes Mom. Please?

Healing

An exceptional quote from Emerson:

"To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough."

-- Emerson

Enough

"If a man walk in the woods for love of them half of each day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer; but if he spends his whole day as a speculator, shearing off those woods and making earth bald before her time, he is esteemed an industrious and enterprising citizen. As if a town had no interest in its forests but to cut them down!"

Thoreau, "Life Without Principle”


This passage has always had a huge impact on me. It saddens me that even though this was written over 150 years ago, it continues to ring true to this day. Since the inception of this country, Big Business and the bottom line have always taken precedence over our Natural resources in our ever increasing consumptive society. Will we not be happy until we have exhausted every Natural resource available to us?

ANWR (Arctic National Wildlife Refuge)is a perfect example. We are so desperate for oil that we are willing to drill in one of the truly last wild places on Earth. And for what - a nickel drop for a gallon of gas, all the while the rich get richer? And even though I will probably never see this special place in person, it pains me to think that, as a society, we are willing to take the risk of ruining it for the sake of Big Business, because when it comes down to it, the extraction of oil from this wildlife sanctuary would not be for the benefit of the people, but rather for the benefit of Big Business.

Will we ever learn?

"This winter they are cutting down our woods more seriously than ever,—Fair Haven Hill, Walden, Linnæa Borealis Wood, etc., etc. Thank God, they cannot cut down the clouds."
- Thoreau

An Original Work

I'm not one who usually presents my writing to the public - one, because I don't think it's good enough and two, because I hate feeling like people are critiquing me - but I thought this particular piece of prose was appropriate for this site so I'm throwing it out there for all three of you to see. ;)

Longing

I sat upon a log near a steady stream
wavering in and out of my perpetual dream
living in the woods is where I wish to be
getting to know the birds, the trees and who is truly me.
The trees talk to me as they dance and sway
urging me to stay yet one more day
to come and play as I did as a child
to experience once again what is sacred and wild.

-- Me

Power of Slowing

"Let your mind be quiet, realizing the beauty of the world, and the immense, the boundless treasures that it holds in store. All that you have within you, all that your heart desires, all that your Nature so specially fits you for - that or the counterpart of it waits embedded in the great Whole, for you. It will surely come to you."

-- Edward Carpenter

Nature's Help

I have a confession......I like technology. In fact, I used to love it. It's how I make my living. But with the passing of time (and gaining of wisdom?), I've come to be wary of it. If one is not too careful, technology can quickly consume one's life and before you know it you forgot how the meadow looks and feels on a moist Summer morning as the water droplets shine "like diamonds in the dew".

I've also come to realize, with the help of my five year-old son, that technology has a way of sucking out the imagination. We currently have a Xbox, a Xbox 360, and numerous PC games that my son plays. But as soon as the 'newness' of a new game wears off, he becomes 'bored' rather quickly and announces he doesn't know what to do. When I was his age (or maybe a little older - I don't have too many five-year-old memories), I was constantly outside playing in the woods and fields, making up games as I went. I'm sure I had bouts of boredom, but I truly cannot remember being bored. And I think I have Nature to thank for it. My friends were the trees, birds and frogs that I encountered during my daily expeditions through unknown lands and territories. I would be out after breakfast and sometimes not return until well after lunch. And as soon as I refueled, I would be out again.

I truly feel guilty for letting technology creep into our lives as it has and I have come to the realization that I must change this pattern before my son loses this truly magical time of his life. And as I have done many times in the past, I will be turning to Nature for her help.

This weekend I am planning a Nature trail walk and will introduce my son to some of my old friends. Maybe he'll gain a friend or two of his own in the process.

Too Much Information

Thoreau wrote this in his journal on September 13th, 1852:

I must walk more with free senses. It is as bad to study stars and clouds as flowers and stones. I must let my senses wander as my thoughts, my eyes see without looking. What I need is not to look at all, but a true sauntering of the eye.

How often do we go about our daily lives without analyzing everything we see? I would venture to say not often enough. Instead of just seeing an object, we are always analyzing - weight, dimensions, usefulness. As soon as we see a Dandelion, we think - weed, kill, destroy - instead of really seeing how the yellow spikes of the flower extend like the grandest firework during a 4th of July celebration. We put labels on everything we encounter during our comings-and-goings of everyday life. How much more interesting would life be if we just let our eyes saunter once in awhile?

The Path

"And I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference", never rang truer for me today for on my winters walk I visited the top of a large hill that overlooks a small frozen lake; a place where I blindly walk around day-after-day during my lunch hour.
Because there was no "man made" trail, I hitched a ride on the back of a whitetail, and oh, a better trail had not been laid. I rode him to the top and back down again, knowing I would never lose my way or be confronted with any perilous obstacles, for the whitetail is one of the wood's wisest tenants and would never put itself in harms way.

"The Road Not Taken"

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

"Then took the other as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

"And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

-- Robert Frost

A Cleansing Snow

Wow - it's been a long time since my last entry. I swear the older you get the faster time streaks by. I know physics would say otherwise but I believe it to be true.

My winters walk was wonderfully satisfying today. With the light dusting of snow we received last night, the "crunch, crunch" echoed beneath my boots. Many a-chickadee were out today enjoying the wonderful day as well, chit-chatting as they flitted from tree to tree.


With the sun joining me today, I shed my gloves, hat and even unzipped my coat.

It was a great day to be alive.