Up at the crack of midday today, or what seemed like it to me, with a sigh.
On another day, at the crack of dawn, as I did often, I went outside very early to feel the morning air, view the evidence of a long cool night just passed. Crystalline droplets of dew were still freshly pearled on the slender curving blades of summer grass and foxtails. I waded through it and saw that each footstep left a story in matted grass and damp earth and I felt as one who is baptised, and God was somehow closer to me then.
On such mornings, a sheening coat of glistening moisture on every tendril and hair transforms the tiniest details of texture as if they were symbols of the whisperings and sounds of darkness. It was quiet, always, at that early hour, but the quiet swelled with relief and then renewal.
The middle kingdom of dawn was one of dew evaporating slowly and quietly, and it faded mysteriously into the unseen realm of vapor and air. I felt I was walking through a portal from one world to another with heightened senses and a hope that the dew would speak to me, allow me to exist the way it did. I wanted remants of it to stay with me all day, but all I could do was seek it again in the tiny hours of the next dawn, before the birds sang.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Hastings Natural History Reservation and Art
After exploring Hastings Natural History Reservation in upper Carmel Valley on Saturday morning and meeting Dr. Mark Stromberg, zoologist, resident director, and man with an endless supply of wacky science stories, an idea has begun to hatch.
Hastings is part of the University of California Nature Reserve system, consisting of about 33 properties in many areas of the Golden State. In each of them, grad students help scientists conduct studies of everything from geological history of California (now that's a really longitudinal study) to the mating habits of black widow spiders (really big ewww factor). Hastings alone has generated something on the order of 600 papers over its lifetime as one of the reservations. It's generally closed to the public in order to preserve the pristine nature of the land and so that studies can be conducted without "contaminated" data. In other words, if mountain bikers and horseback riders were tromping through regularly, resident species would be trashed, trampled and scared off, not to mention the introduction of further non-native species. Groups of local K-12 students are welcomed now and again in an outreach effort to connect the kids to science and local native history.
You get the image as you listen to Dr. Stromberg that the scientists who have taken up residence on the property through the past several decades are a rather quirky lot. Probing minds have figured out the social structure of acorn woodpeckers, the symbiotic nature of spanish moss and blue oak trees and the effect of gophers on native grasses. And about a zillion other things that you get curious about if you spend a little time in our coastal wood- and grasslands. But, the persistence of the scientists over time as they study the minutiae of nearly invisible things has been impressive to a spectacular degree. Some studies have been ongoing for over 20 years, something the Reservation is famous for being able to provide.
Now, in the dreary broken days of California's bankrupt economy, the UC system is suffering from an alarming lack of funding. Thus, Stromberg and his colleagues hope to find other sources of money in order to continue their work, arcane though it may seem to us. There is benefit to all of humankind, and this one little item is a good example: One Hastings study found that crickets have little cups inside their "ears" that direct sound to their nearest ear, acting as a funnel of sound in a way. The idea has been adapted to the newest generation of hearing aids. The ability of a person who wore hearing aids in the past to differentiate between one sound and another was pretty dismal until the cricket study revealed this tiny mechanical adaptation that the insects have made. Pretty amazing, huh?
I've begun to think that the science that is revealing amazing things about Hastings and its 1500 species resident there is not the only thing that the beautiful coastal hills and valleys can teach us. Artists and writers can be equally influenced and productive when allowed to nourish their minds there, too. With respect and attention to the needs of the land and studies being conducted there, perhaps the artistic community can be welcomed and, in turn, present a different interpretation of the natural world than pure data can. Through interpretive photography, art and/or writing, Hastings might pique some interest in the local and state-wide community, and consequently - I would hope - more financial support. Hmmm....I'll keep you posted.
Hastings is part of the University of California Nature Reserve system, consisting of about 33 properties in many areas of the Golden State. In each of them, grad students help scientists conduct studies of everything from geological history of California (now that's a really longitudinal study) to the mating habits of black widow spiders (really big ewww factor). Hastings alone has generated something on the order of 600 papers over its lifetime as one of the reservations. It's generally closed to the public in order to preserve the pristine nature of the land and so that studies can be conducted without "contaminated" data. In other words, if mountain bikers and horseback riders were tromping through regularly, resident species would be trashed, trampled and scared off, not to mention the introduction of further non-native species. Groups of local K-12 students are welcomed now and again in an outreach effort to connect the kids to science and local native history.
You get the image as you listen to Dr. Stromberg that the scientists who have taken up residence on the property through the past several decades are a rather quirky lot. Probing minds have figured out the social structure of acorn woodpeckers, the symbiotic nature of spanish moss and blue oak trees and the effect of gophers on native grasses. And about a zillion other things that you get curious about if you spend a little time in our coastal wood- and grasslands. But, the persistence of the scientists over time as they study the minutiae of nearly invisible things has been impressive to a spectacular degree. Some studies have been ongoing for over 20 years, something the Reservation is famous for being able to provide.
Now, in the dreary broken days of California's bankrupt economy, the UC system is suffering from an alarming lack of funding. Thus, Stromberg and his colleagues hope to find other sources of money in order to continue their work, arcane though it may seem to us. There is benefit to all of humankind, and this one little item is a good example: One Hastings study found that crickets have little cups inside their "ears" that direct sound to their nearest ear, acting as a funnel of sound in a way. The idea has been adapted to the newest generation of hearing aids. The ability of a person who wore hearing aids in the past to differentiate between one sound and another was pretty dismal until the cricket study revealed this tiny mechanical adaptation that the insects have made. Pretty amazing, huh?
I've begun to think that the science that is revealing amazing things about Hastings and its 1500 species resident there is not the only thing that the beautiful coastal hills and valleys can teach us. Artists and writers can be equally influenced and productive when allowed to nourish their minds there, too. With respect and attention to the needs of the land and studies being conducted there, perhaps the artistic community can be welcomed and, in turn, present a different interpretation of the natural world than pure data can. Through interpretive photography, art and/or writing, Hastings might pique some interest in the local and state-wide community, and consequently - I would hope - more financial support. Hmmm....I'll keep you posted.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Flying Dreams
Seems to me, it's not my choice to be alive. I am. All at once, I was alive and my heart was beating and it's beating still. When I was old enough to notice, I saw that I couldn't fly, and that mystified me because in my dreams I could fly and I did. I just lifted up my arms and took a deep breath and lifted right up off the ground and kept going up. I looked down on everything and hovered up there and kept watching things.
Now and then, I have these slow-moving dreams where I can fly and off I go. All my life I've had them. I fly like superman does, arms out in front and horizontal to the ground, but I look down on the stuff down there below me and it feels far away, passing below me like a movie. I've always flown in a way that you might call mysterious. And that doesn't mean it's because I'm human and I don't have wings. No. It's the feeling of lifting up and taking that deep breath that does it, makes it mysterious and lot like hope rising up.
Sometimes I know I'm going to have a flying dream and I just settle down and try to be patient for it, because you know what they say. You notice a dream and it goes away. So, if I'm kind of nonchalant about it - meaning I try to look like I don't care one way or the other - I can let the dream sneak into my bed and curl up with me and then it's mine.
I have had times when I wished I really was in a flying dream and could lift up, like a bubble in water, up to the clouds and then stretch out my arms and decide which way to go away and then just go. But, like being alive, lifting up above my troubles is not really my choice - at least by flying. It's not my choice to have the troubles I do. I have them. They're there, like a mean dog.
Now and then, I have these slow-moving dreams where I can fly and off I go. All my life I've had them. I fly like superman does, arms out in front and horizontal to the ground, but I look down on the stuff down there below me and it feels far away, passing below me like a movie. I've always flown in a way that you might call mysterious. And that doesn't mean it's because I'm human and I don't have wings. No. It's the feeling of lifting up and taking that deep breath that does it, makes it mysterious and lot like hope rising up.
Sometimes I know I'm going to have a flying dream and I just settle down and try to be patient for it, because you know what they say. You notice a dream and it goes away. So, if I'm kind of nonchalant about it - meaning I try to look like I don't care one way or the other - I can let the dream sneak into my bed and curl up with me and then it's mine.
I have had times when I wished I really was in a flying dream and could lift up, like a bubble in water, up to the clouds and then stretch out my arms and decide which way to go away and then just go. But, like being alive, lifting up above my troubles is not really my choice - at least by flying. It's not my choice to have the troubles I do. I have them. They're there, like a mean dog.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Contrast of Countries
Yahoo America! Time to watch the Super Bowl! And all those wacky commercials! "Spots" run during the game are the most expensive of all TV ads, costing millions of dollars per minute. Seems to me there was no shortage of takers bellying up to the window to pay the man. Talking babies, screaming chickens, green police, and the arm-punching game (for naming a color of a new VW car - Passat?), and crazed Dorito nerds populated the commercials. Cha-ching!
Many thousands of screaming Americans were paying hundreds of dollars, thousands probably, to attend the Super Bowl, and millions more watched from their living rooms, noshing on chips, drinks, snacks, who knows what. It's fun, it's exciting, but oh my does it present a horribly ugly contrast to poverty-stricken and death-benumbed Haiti, a geographically close neighbor of ours. I don't think there is any more magnificently incomprehensible picture of the luck of birth than represents itself in the comparison of the USA and Haiti, especially on Super Bowl Sunday. And I'll bet people everywhere in our country complained about their food today, the temperature of their homes, the inconvenience of waiting for someone else to get out of the way at the supermarket.
Next time you start to whine about something messing up your American life in some way, just stop. Then, donate to the Red Cross or Doctors Without Borders or a bona fide relief group. You'll either stop complaining or you'll help out; I hope you do both. I have. Go Saints! (they won)
Many thousands of screaming Americans were paying hundreds of dollars, thousands probably, to attend the Super Bowl, and millions more watched from their living rooms, noshing on chips, drinks, snacks, who knows what. It's fun, it's exciting, but oh my does it present a horribly ugly contrast to poverty-stricken and death-benumbed Haiti, a geographically close neighbor of ours. I don't think there is any more magnificently incomprehensible picture of the luck of birth than represents itself in the comparison of the USA and Haiti, especially on Super Bowl Sunday. And I'll bet people everywhere in our country complained about their food today, the temperature of their homes, the inconvenience of waiting for someone else to get out of the way at the supermarket.
Next time you start to whine about something messing up your American life in some way, just stop. Then, donate to the Red Cross or Doctors Without Borders or a bona fide relief group. You'll either stop complaining or you'll help out; I hope you do both. I have. Go Saints! (they won)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Message From the Outpost
Cloud had a snit and threw hail at us for 15 seconds. Gone now.
Day went by so fast, calendar is smoking.
Maybe the hail storm actually lasted hours. Time warp or something. All's quiet.
Awaiting further instructions. Over and out.
Day went by so fast, calendar is smoking.
Maybe the hail storm actually lasted hours. Time warp or something. All's quiet.
Awaiting further instructions. Over and out.
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