Tidal Wave

” A tidal wave is a regularly reoccurring shallow water wave caused by effects of the gravitational interactions between the Sun, Moon, and Earth on the ocean. The term “tidal wave” is often used to refer to tsunamis; however, this reference is incorrect as tsunamis have nothing to do with tides. ” NOAA Ocean Facts

So fellow travelers, the weekend has been filled with the sound of surf and woodland bird songs. The unique combination has stirred thoughts of both home and my week in California with my Switchfoot Family.

Bird songs familiar yet not quite recognized, rise from the pines and seagrasses like images from a dream fading all too quickly, things almost known but not quite grasped before waking.

“Back home” feels more here than where I will be returning in a week.

The sound of surf grows louder with the incoming tide. Emotions rise and swell in waves, my thoughts drifting like pieces of seaweed pushed and pulled by the force of changes underway.

and through it all runs Switchfoot’s music, songs which have become the soundtrack of my journey.

These are songs which over a decade have made hope “the anthem of my soul” and the week I get to spend with the band has become a time for renewal of Spirit punctuated by bright notes of joyful moments with old and new friends. This community becomes more like family each time we gather. It is a reflection of the honest, generous, compassionate, fun loving band of musical brothers who live their faithby example rather than preach from a stage. These guys remain truly humble through success and solidly rooted in family values. And suddenly, in the heartfelt conversations, there it is

Family

the beacon in the harbor where I have set my sights on dropping anchor in the coming year…

and thanks to the inspiration of these five amazing humans I know I will be able to navigate the tidal currents between now and then.

Some favorite moments

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Stopping Time

So fellow travelers, fellow creative tribemate Deb German Young posted a photo from her recent travels to see Falling Water, the iconic Frank Llyod Wright house in Pennsylvania.

The image not only caught my attention, it literally stopped me mid-scroll and I gasped out loud. “What is it?” my husband inquired as we wound through traffic in downtown Portland. “Something amazing one of my friends posted on the creative page,” I said once the neurons in my brain unlocked. “Oh, ok” he responded in the matter of fact manner indicating he is fully acclimated to the “wow” moments which often occur when I check in with the creative page.

“It is as if you stopped time” I commented under Deb’s photo, tears welling in my eyes as I posted. This image, so delicate and powerful all at once, went straight through my heart, deep into my soul, calling up that thought.

Isn’t this part of why we take photos? Are they not attempts to capture a moment so when time takes its toll we can re-ignite the fading memory into the brillance of the present? At least for me this is true. I rely on the photos I have in my camera roll to help me write because my emotions are embedded in the images I capture. When I sit down to write, I need the images to bring me back to the moment so the words are more genuine.

Sometimes I have to remind myself to take fewer shots, and be more present in the experience. Over the years, as my aptitude for writing has developed, a modest confidence in my ability has allowed me step back from creative misgivings. Being intentional of when and why I take photos is becoming more habitual. Mindfulness makes everything, including creativity, flow with less resistance.

The tears in my eyes at that moment came from the emotions I am experiencing on this year’s visit. The sense of belonging has grown exponentially since last year. I just wrote about the weather factor, but as I have been crafting a post about my Switchfoot week in San Diego I am aware there is a bigger shift happening. The words to express it have not yet become coherent, but the moments I captured and stored in my camera roll are helping me get there.

Stay tuned.

Rainbow over Encinitas

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready

Eye Eternal

So fellow travelers, the adventures of summer are off to a most auspicious beginning.

Yeah, I know it is hard to even tell what this is . Here look closer

That is part of a whale’s back breaking the surface of the water as it feeds in the channel near Anacapa Island off the coast of California.

It’s actually only a very small part of the whale’s back, because this whale is a blue whale, the largest known living mammal on this planet.

Our boat captain had spotted the whale’s spout about a mile away and was navigating towards it. Thing is, he told us, whales stay under for long periods of time and one can never be quite certain where they will resurface.

This one had just reappeared closer. Our captain said it was “lunge feeding,” skimming close to surface of the water.

A few minutes later the whale burst out of the waves, raising it’s massive head up out of the water just a few yards away from our boat. We could see right into it’s huge mouth, water streaming through the baleen. We could see it’s majestic, glistening eye and, much like the transcendent experience of the night sky in Joshua Tree NP last summer, it was as if that eye drew me through a portal to the existence of every living being.

It was like gazing into the eye of God.

An entire boatful of humans, young, old, captain and crew fell silent.

In an instant, this amazing creature turned and dove back down, seeming endless in length, until it’s tail appeared just barely above the surface and then disappeared back into the depths of dark water in search of more krill. The encounter lastest less than a minute.

Even now, hours later , words still fail but one.

A W E

Relentless

So fellow travelers, the rain this Spring has been relentless.

I tell myself I can’t complain if I truly intend to move to the PNW, so, I take it as a kind of meteorological training program and I say things like, “At least we don’t have to shovel the driveway or brush off the car.”

Persistent optimism. It annoys people as I am frequently reminded by the eye rolling, snarkiness going around .  It rolls off my consciousness like the rain sliding down my driveway, washing the abundant maple and elm seeds into the roadside ditch. Away they sail in the rushing water to who knows where, perhaps some will take root and grow into their own little forest.

To dwell on the negativity thrown about too easily thanks to the sparsity of verbal moderation (perpetuated, I believe, by the anonymity of social media) is to allow oneself to become mired in the other peoples muck. 

No thank you! 

My own spiritual guidance pushes me to see this negativity as coming from the storms within these people. Their feelings become so uncomfortable, they project them outwards to rid themselves of the pain and anger.  I can see this compassionately without sinking into the same quagmire.

Restless storm clouds race

Dumping rain then dashing off

Leaving muck behind

Proceed mindfully

The Buddha may teach “No Mud No Lotus” but I prefer to choose what seeds bloom in my consciousness. Making mine an attitude of gratitude has over the past few years truly changed my perspective, which in turn has created changes in my life I would never have predicted.  So let rain, I’ll splash in the puddles to wash the mud off my boots.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

 

The Bird in my Heart

So fellow travelers, you know that expression about a bird in hand being worth two in the bush? Well, how many birds would one from the heart equate to?

Once a year, since 2006 on the third Saturday of May, I set out on a special birding adventure called Birdathon. Essentially, it’s a 24hr birding challenge and fundraiser for our local Audubon Society. I’ve written about it a few times and it is one of my favorite adventures of the year. It’s exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating and fascinating all at once. After all it’s no easy task to locate and identify as many different species within a set region in just one day. It’s even harder without my fellow “loonatic.” Missing Favorite Youngest Daughter’s trained ear for pitch and cadence I am often at a loss trying to identify a distant call, even with the aid of my arsenal of birding apps. Since our last run as Team Loonatics in 2016 I’ve been flying solo as it were and even when the weekend holds other commitments I feel the pull to head out because this event holds meaning much deeper than tally marks on a check list.

At every location there are threads which wove a bond between the spirit of this willful, fiercely independent child and my stubborn mother’s heart. The day is not about the numbers. It has evolved into a ritual of reconnection, so even when I’m standing by myself on a trail, listening intently, I am not alone. As my brain is pulling up the memory of things my daughter taught me about pitch and cadence, my heart feels the joy of precious moments shared.

.

Distant songs echo

Love transcends time and distance

A mother’s heart heals

One day Team Loonatics will venture out again, perhaps for the Global Big Day at locations we’ve never charted before. Until then, I keep listening and living the lessons learned on the path of Motherhood .

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Washed Out

So fellow travelers, last week the weather app on my phone pinged to alert me to a “continued precipitation and flood watch” forecast.

Relentless rainfall has washed away all my short and long term hiking plans for several weeks now. No fire tower challenges undertaken, no walks along park paths to look for spring visitors on the lake, even navigating my backyard requires rubber boots, which make for very poor footing when walking Delilah close to home.

Cold, wet, windy conditions meant scouting for migration hotspots was most unpleasant and unproductive. With the annual Birdathon this weekend (post pending)I’ve been in a deep funk about being so housebound. Checking my pond obe morning I noticed even the lilacs are holding back.

Buds wait holding tight

Wary of cold winds and rain

Needing sunlight’s hug

Like the lilacs I’ve felt pretty tightly bound. Good news is the forecast turned around just in time for the annual Birdathon, bringing me a much needed hug from the sun while out on the trails counting and tracking down my feathered Stay tuned for the final tally!


Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Easter Blossoms

So fellow travelers, today is Easter Sunday and it dawned appropriately shrouded in mist.

Being in a bit of a fog myself lately, this mood of ponderous mystery felt somewhat comforting, as if the gods and goddesses of earth and air had gently acknowledged my dispassionate sentiments. Unable to voice the emotions eddying within and around me, my writing has trickled into silence. So, Delilah and I have spent as much time on the trails as seasonal rains permitted. We’ve been blessed with relatively warm weather which has cleared most of the snow from our favorite trails. Although spring migration is in its earliest stage, we’ve had some excellent waterbird sightings and yesterday evening a small gathering of white throated sparrows singing close by our yard spoke of the promise of more warbling visitors soon to come.

Those dots are various water birds like mergansers and scaups visiting Onondaga Lake

When I cannot write, I seek solace in the wild. Often my experiences on the trails open up the block and words begin to resonate, but even my usually reliable haiku companions seem to have gone on hiatus. I have a dozen or so incongruous attempts and several narrative blog pieces which read flat and worse still, miss the mark of my intended reflection.

This morning I sat in deep meditation by my pond; finally, overnight temps are consistently above freezing so we can safely run the waterfall filter. As far back as I can remember, that sound of gently flowing water has always created joy in my heart. A handful of juncos and chickadees trilled their thank you’s for the fresh seed  just placed in the feeders. One perched on the branches of a quince bush full of newly emerged pinkish buds. Among them, at last, were words which sang true.

Peace waits silently

Seeking but an open heart

Joy ready to bloom

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Season’s Edge

So fellow travelers, this haiku showed up on a chilly walk the day before the vernal equinox.

Time frozen in waves

Thaw at season’s edge reveals

Sleeping memories

What looks like waves along the shore are actually frozen layers of water

Delilah and I have been walking the East Lakeshore Trail at Onondaga Lake Park, training for the upcoming 6legged5k event. We participate in this event most years as it’s a fund raiser for local dog rescues, including Helping Hounds. As Delilah is an HHDR alumni, it’s only fitting we put our best footandpaw forward to do our best.

To hit our stride on race day, we start training early in March by walking the trail a few times a week, gradually increasing our distance from one to three miles. At least that’s our goal, but some years the weather throws things off with either late season snowstorms (both April 2013 and 2016 had snowstorms the week before) or flooding which almost postponed the event two years ago.

20170409_091703

In 2017, lake levels came right up to the pavillion near the 5K trail

This year, March has been blustery with at least one day of heavy (8-10 inches) snow but the county parks crew has done a fantastic job of keeping the walking trail clear and we are on track to finish with a respectable time.

One side benefit to walking the East shore trail is catching a view of incoming migrants resting on the lake. The ice has not fully receded, so our seasonal visitors are clustered along the edge where open water meets the slowly receding ice shelf.

Those smaller dark specks in the distance are a variety of ducks

Delilah does not mind when I stop to scan the water with my binoculars. It gives her a chance to track the scents of a variety of critters, including foxes, opossum and an occasional mink often seen skirting the shoreline.

Soon those frozen waves will thaw and spotting the various waterbirds will become more challenging. One afternoon, there will come a warbling trill from the trees. I will turn my binoculars to catch a glimpse of migrating songbird and memories of so many grand adventures will break free as the icy grip of winter finally thaws.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Birds Doing New Things

While I head out to clear snow (yes it’s still snowing on and off in March- ah Spring in Upstate NY) from my own backyard birdfeeders to keep the early spring migrants well fueled against the return of Winter-like temperatures I thought my Fellow Travelers might enjoy a trip to a bird sanctuary in warmer climates. Sylvia’s blog keeps my birding dreams alive through our long cold season.

Tonji and Sylvia's Wildlife Refuge

Sometimes we see birds as predictable creatures of habit. They have favorite perches that they return to day after day. Their behavior becomes familiar and part of the flow of the day.

This has become a familiar early morning sight. 5 White Breasted Woodswallows perched on top of this Agoho tree.

Other times we get to witness entirely new behavior. I thought it was unusual to see a Philippine Bulbul perched on the round pen. They usually hide inside the trees. What was it doing?

This looks to me like a young Philippine Bulbul. Based on the sounds, I think there was a nest inside the aratiles and this bird is one of the young from the nest.

The Philippine Bulbul was carefully, drop by drop, picking up dew from the fence posts.

I’ve never seen other birds do that on the fence posts before.

Soon there was a second…

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Spring Ahead

So fellow travelers, Delilah and I just returned home from a quick walk.

It is a luxurious 58 ° , the air smells like spring and the sun managed to sneak in a brief but brilliant appearance before the incoming front from the west shrouded the golden light in deep grey storm clouds.

High over head, wave after wave of migrating geese called out as small lines merged again and again into ever larger formations. A distant chatter grew suddenly louder as a massive mixed flock of smaller birds filled the sky with hundreds of black specks. The sound was almost deafening but I stood absolutely still, mesmerized by the vibrant urgency of this annual push for survival. I have seen these migrating bird clouds before but always far above me on the trails. Today I was engulfed in the sight and sound of this tsunami of flight a few dozen feet overhead. Even Delilah seemed intrigued, sitting still on a patch of newly recovered grass by a not quite thawed snow pile. She looked at me, then up at the noisy intruders, scanning the trees where dozens of birds were landing for brief respites.

The wave seemed endless, although I am sure we stood and watched for only a few minutes before all but a few stragglers flew off towards the tree lined river nearby. Ears still ringing from the high pitched cacophony, I started walking towards home. As we picked our way around patches of snow along the edge of our yard, I heard bright and clear, for the first time this year, a familiar call.

Cackling V flies

Cloud of black specks darts and chirps

Robin sings at last

Yes, there in my neighbor’s chinaberry tree sat a robin calling out between pecking at dinner. Finally! The Vernal equinox does not occur until next week, but I will gratefully take this sign that spring is on it’s way.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready