"To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle." — Walt Whitman
Month: January 2020
Friday, January 31,2020
We had another thoroughly uplifting sunrise walk this morning, though with no bright ball of sun slowly rising. Instead, we had lines of clouds of many colors in the eastern sky, and a slowly spreading soft light. Within this light was an especially solemn and stately pelican.
Thursday, January 30, 2020
Up at 5:30 this morning, eggs, veggies, and sweet muffins for breakfast, then another sunrise walk on the beach. Here are photos taken within about five minutes as the sun slowly and gracefully arose.
Beach buddies forever …
A young iguana and a young admirer …
Sunset on the Sanibel beach …
And a poem about another sunset on another beach …
SIMPLY A SUNSET
At Stonington Point, 4/20/18
It was simply a sunset,
the joyful face of a friendly sky,
but they found their lives just by seeing it.
The traffic of their thoughts
fell thankfully over a cliff,
and confident quietness laughed softly
and showed them their forever lives.
Wednesday, January 29, 2020
This morning, I went down to the beach after breakfast and sat in silence for close to an hour, just welcoming whatever I saw – handsome pelicans, soft-looking, spread-out clouds – and enjoying some strong spiritual thoughts as they floated through me. It was some heaven-time beside a sacred-looking sea.
Later, we rode a 12- mile loop up to The Ding Darling Sanctuary, and spent some absorbing minutes browsing among the many exhibits. We especially enjoyed the photographic work of Clyde Butcher (see below).
My poem for today (from 2018)…
WASHED AND DANCING
He knows each morning
is freshly washed,
scoured and rinsed.
It thrills him
that life is so pristine,
so brand new
and begging to dance,
and he bows
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
This morning, around 6:50, we took an inspiring walk on the beach, only 40 minutes or so, but rousing nonetheless. Just seeing the pelicans was enough to uplift us, with their odd but beautiful bodies and beaks, and of course their stately, graceful way of flying. And the sunrise, with a little line of bright light breaking through the horizon’s clouds and in a matter of minutes becoming the spreading morning sunshine – how could we be any more fortunate?
A proud and lovely pelican …
Three views of the slowly rising sun …
Two impressive sand sculptures…
My poem for today, written several years ago, back home …
ONE DAY OF GLORY
an old guy saw glory
all around him.
The flowers in his wife’s garden
seemed famous that day,
and all the shoppers in the supermarket aisles
were illustrious and memorable.
There was even distinction
in the sweltering summer heat
that made him want to praise it,
and all his thoughts
were glitzy and brassy like celebrities
as they strutted in splendor
through his mind.
There was praise in all the breezes
and reverence in the passing of cars
on his street,
so much that the man decided to do homage,
so he held each moment in his hand
and honored it.
Some of Cia’s shells collected in the past three days …
We rode our bikes up to the Sanibel Cafe for lunch. It was a breezy, easy ride on the smooth trails, often passing riders going the opposite way – riders of all sizes and ages and abilities – and relishing the show of shadows and sunshine and constant surprises this January day devised for us. Our lunch, we agreed, was excellent, and we decided we’d be willing to come back sometime – perhaps fairly soon.
Sunday, January 26, 2020
This morning we rode our bikes up to the Sanibel Library for the weekly farmer’s market festivity, and indeed, it was a frolicsome festival of baked goods and farm produce. We wandered among the stalls, enjoying the look of muffins and carrots and home-produced honey and various lunches laid out and looking ready to be devoured. We controlled our impulses pretty well and purchased just four blueberry muffins and a loaf of cranberry raisin bread, but we promised to go back the next two Sundays with more shopping bags in hand.
I stopped over to see brother Al in the condo where he and Mary Anne are staying for the week, and I was surprised and happy to see Mary Anne as well. I had thought she was going to church, but she said she decided to take the morning off for some easygoing hours after the long journey from St. Louis yesterday. Lucky for me, for the three of us had a wonderful conversation about a few dozen family-type topics – lots of good words and laughter.
My poem for today:
HER ACT (about Sharon Z., 82, Blessings, CT)
Her dad always said
she should get her act together,
and suddenly, at 68,
while shopping at McQuades,
she saw that
it had always been together,
and that it wasn’t just her act,
but that each moment
she performs with countless friends,
like the flowing sky,
and her talented lungs,
and the skillful movements
of sunshine and starlight.
She saw that even her thoughts
are daring dancers
that swirl and sway
with the limitless thoughts
that prance through the universe
as part of an act
that has neither starts nor endings,
and she and all things
are the clever performers,
even when wondering
which cucumbers to choose.
+ + + + +
One final note about today: We walked or rode our bikes about 10 miles – not bad for a 78 and 79er!
Saturday, January 25, 2020
On prayer …
“Just as so many of the mystics have taught, doing what you’re doing with care, presence, and intention is a form of prayer, the very way to transformation and wholeness. There is no trick, no magic formula to becoming one with Reality. There is only living and, as you know, this is much harder than it first seems.” — Richard Rohr
+ + + + +
We had a smooth flight down the coast to Fort Myers, and then an easy drive across the causeway to the island of Sanibel. It was a bright, blue sky day, and the views from the causeway to the island and the sea and the various inlets and ponds and smaller islands were dazzling. I was lucky to be the passenger, because I was able to watch palm trees and soaring pelicans instead of oncoming traffic. Delycia, as always, was a steady, sure-handed driver, and I was definitely an unwavering watcher of this very special southern coast.
We are on our way to Sanibel Island, Florida, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been fortunate enough to visit. We left the house this afternoon and drove to a Marriott Hotel near the airport just north of Hartford, where we’re cozying up in our room, ready for a good night’s rest, then an early flight down to Ft. Myers, FL, then a short, easy drive to the island. We’ve rented the same condo we used on our first two visits – a lovely, large place with comfy furniture and wide-spreading windows looking out at the distant ocean. Somehow we’ve been blessed with the chance to do a trip like this. I’m feeling more grateful than I can fully explain.
One day, they chose to be children. chose to have stunned faces and eyes as wide as windows. They walked around wondering why and how about everything. They gaped instead of looked, studied instead of passed by, stopped and stared instead of glanced and went. They spoke only questions or exclamations all day, because you can’t say clear statements if you are constantly astonished.