travels, reflections, poems….
Aloha! Let’s hop on a virtual plane and cruise to Hawaii for a tropical visit to a few major islands. Hawaii has approximately 137 islands, many of which are very small. There are eight major islands and we’re going to frolic on the four most commonly visited ones. We are 2,000 miles (3,200 km) west […]
The Hawaiian Islands — Jet Eliot
It is only the white owl
From her tall
Pine
Spire
Who
Might see the pinecone grow
And who
Still remembers
Even now, the snow
Drifting across the misted moon
After the embers
Of centuries
Of dark fire.
It was only
A while ago
Among the gold cliffs
That black ravens sounded their raucous calls
Of wisdom-woven prophecies,
They who brought the end of time, at last,
This time that has drawn to its close,
And now the single petal of the rose
Falls.
There glimmer
Within the universe of beings, the silent
Springing feet of the herd of deer
Bounding ever higher,
Ever fast,
On their journey
Across the snow.
Soon,
In the beginning,
The gold face of the setting sun
Will appear
Through silver sheets of rain that shimmer,
While, in the wandering whiffs
Of bitter smoke, will sound the cries
Of yesteryear,
That linger, still heard, echoing among the far cliffs,
The spirit of days
Gone
By.
Now hills swept with snow
Travel farther back to
The land of mists and magic, flown.
There
The wings of butterflies
Unfold in the dawn,
In the beginning
That knows still the ancient ways
And there along the shore that goes to nowhere
The brave one
Walks on alone
In the far country,
The soul of courage,
Portender of knowledge.
The howl
Of the wolf, ascendant,
Will mark
The moment
When the moon
Rises over fields of stars, when Hanuman, hero
Of the earth and the skies,
In the beginning and the ending,
Brings clouds of peace that shine
Transcendent
Through the living fire of the distant dark.
© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023
Sleet falls in a sharp angle across the sky. The ground in just a few moments is covered in white – white that highlights the deep shadows of mystery within the waving sage brush.
The sleet turns to snow and rain. There is thunder too, deep, far away. Huge snowflakes billow down. The sage brush bounces, buffeted by the wind. This is the beauty of the universe.
If I were outside repairing the electric lines, or even just trying to get my car going — I would be saying, “Oh, what nasty weather!”
Somewhere the electricity repair person is hard at work, and for him or her, it is truly very nasty weather.
Inside, I am grateful for electricity and warmth and for the freedom to watch the beauty of the earth – where all is One – the falling snow, the rhythm of the seasons. And all is eternity – each snowflake and the ravens that fly bravely in the wind.
© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022
Fall is falling in ethereal Alberta. The Larch Trees, are turning glorious gold. It snowed last night, dusting the mountains with powder. You can just see Jim here on the trail of gold! Soon the larches will drop their needles and winter will arrive. I have been surprised by wifi reception, but tomorrow we head […]
Alberta in Color~ —
A course of action. If you wish to help the earth, you might do the following: Listen to a tree – or talk to a tree. If there is not tree immediately available, it could be a cloud, a rock, a bird – any aspect of the world of nature. Spend half an hour a day – or five minutes – or whatever time you have.
How will this help the earth? This will work because the basic problem which is destroying the planet we live on – is the alienation of us, as human beings, from the world of nature. Because we focus on our human interests and wishes (and sometimes genuine urgent situations that cannot be avoided), we have become alienated from nature. (When there is a real crisis that requires your attention, then come back to focusing on the tree whenever you are able to.)
In this way we will be getting back in contact with nature – and in our own way building a little bridge to connect with nature. This may be the most effective and most direct way to transform our relationship as human beings with the planet earth. And in so doing, we will be laying the groundwork for the transformation that is required. It will also have a healing effect on us – and on the tree too. And on those around us – like a pebble that lands on the water of a lake and ripples in all directions. Like the butterfly that you may have heard about who changed the course of world history by a single motion of his wings.
***
© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022
Burnt tip orchids. At least 10 vanished from a national nature reserve at Mount Caburn, East Sussex. Photograph: Katewarn Images/Alamy Susan Orlean brought orchidelirium to our attention in 1999, shining a light on how and why these flowers inspire lots of good, and plenty of bad behavior. Orchids have been abundant in our pages over the […]
Orchidelirium Anew — Organikos
Rajaji National Park, Uttarakhand
Bird of the Day: Alexandrine Parakeets — Organikos
By Stacie-Lee Sherwood “Millions of people live on the East Coast but have no idea our wild horses exist and how they need urgent help to survive…” Growing up on the east coast I knew we had horses, lots and lots of horses. None of these were wild free roaming, but they were everywhere. We […]
Yes America we do have WILD horses, but not likely for much longer — Straight from the Horse’s Heart
Mists of stone
Clear in the arc
Of light,
Artic light, enduring
Mystery
Through the dark,
Years of dark.
Buried, the lost bones
Of a bleak history,
Along with the ghostly groans
Of the dragon.
Dark.
A snowflake
Falls.
The wind calls,
Yet
The stones live on
And remember
The heart
Of the earth,
The cart-
Wheel tracks that run their way
Into the sea,
Of Malta, gray.
The walking before dawn
In the majestic winter
When the ice floe
Shimmered under
The dancing fairies of the moon,
To find the sacred stones
Of the path that went along, some time ago.
Now lost in the delirium
Of the modern world,
Gone
Awry from the start,
Let it leave soon,
Quickly,
To betray
The song of the mountain roses
That the stones may rise to an echoing drum,
Stones of mist.
Quiet,
The whispering fir trees of the forest,
The breath of God in the air, curled
In the smoke of the lost fires.
The eon closes.
From the eternity of being
There arises
The swan who sails softly
In long, snow-
Winged flight,
Over the hills
In the wild mists of dawn
Spires,
Free at last in the lost rain that spills
Through the mist
Of the singing mountains.
Dragons awake
To drifting skies.
*****
© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022, text and photo
We have entered the micro-season of “Bamboo Shoots Appear”. This is the third micro-season of the mini-season of First Summer. To honor this season, we are learning all about Bamboo and reading haiku by Basho, Issa, and Buson.
Micro-Season: “Bamboo Shoots Appear” — Naturalist Weekly