For Shelter, the World

A new world

Heal the World

There's a place in
Your heart
And I know that it is love
And this place could
Be much
Brighter than tomorrow
And if you really try
You'll find there's no need
To cry
In this place you'll feel
There's no hurt or sorrow

There are ways
To get there
If you care enough
For the living
Make a little space
Make a better place...

Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race
There are people dying
If you care enough
For the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

If you want to know why
There's a love that
Cannot lie
Love is strong
It only cares for
Joyful giving
If we try
We shall see
In this bliss
We cannot feel
Fear or dread
We stop existing and
Start living

Then it feels that always
Love's enough for
Us growing
So make a better world
Make a better world...

Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race
There are people dying
If you care enough
For the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

And the dream we were
Conceived in
Will reveal a joyful face
And the world we
Once believed in
Will shine again in grace
Then why do we keep
Strangling life
Wound this earth
Crucify its soul
Though its plain to see
This world is heavenly
Be god's glow

We could fly so high
Let our spirits never die
In my heart
I feel you are all
My brothers
Create a world with
No fear
Together we cry
Happy tears
See the nations turn
Their swords
Into plowshares

We could really get there
If you cared enough
For the living
Make a little space
To make a better place...

Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race
There are people dying
If you care enough
For the living
Make a better place
For you and for me


-- words and music, Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

namaste

El bandito ... or la bandita?

Late the other night, I was sitting in my living room, reading a mystery novel (one of the titles in Mary Daheim's "Bed and Breakfast" series). The window was open, since the weather was relatively warm; and as I read, I enjoyed the background noise of the frogs chirping and geese honking and the myriad other sounds one hears in the country after midnight.

The action in my book had me fully engaged, so at first I didn't pay attention to the specific goings-on outside my house, until I noticed the cats had all raced to the window with their ears perked up. It was a new noise ... a repetitive noise that sounded kind of like raindrops spattering on the deck, except that it wasn't raining.

My curiosity finally got the better of me, so I lifted the window shade and took a peek. This is what had my felines in such a tizzy:

Yep, a furry and obviously well-fed masked bandit was raiding the birdfeeder. For about twenty minutes it stood there, perched on its hind legs on the deck railing, pawing through the seeds in search of its favorite goodies (probably the peanuts and berries), and raking what it didn't want out of the feeder and down onto the deck; hence the "falling raindrops" noise.

Paradoxically, peace

For June, a random chapter of the Tao Te Ching, from "The Feminine Tao" website ...

35

The world is drawn to one
with understanding of the Tao.

The sage journeys in secure, safe, calm peace.

Initially, passersby may stop,
seeking food and music.

Then, from the lips of such a sage,
they will learn of the Tao.

Seeking to taste of it,
they will find no taste.

Seeking to see it,
they will find no sights.

Seeking to hear it,
they will find no sound.

For it is in using its teachings,
that one attains understanding
of its eternal value.

-- as translated by Holly Roberts

What reassuring words to read at a time when I've been sensing so much chaos and anxiety and upset in the world; when it's difficult to know what to believe and whom to trust, and when not much seems to make sense.

I remember the afternoon a week ago when I left Dallas, sitting in the airport waiting for my flight back to Portland and being amazed at how stirred up people seemed to be, in a way they hadn't been the previous weekend. They couldn't sit still, couldn't stop talking.

It's as if a fire had been lit underneath us, or as if we were zapped with a lightning bolt. (The astrologers among us will appreciate the Uranian reference there ... an influx of high-voltage energy, unexpected, unsettling, yet with gifts for us if we can make the choice to take advantage of them.)

I've been sleeping very well since I returned home, with dreams unlike what I'm used to, with lots of movement and people in them. Some of the dreams are unsettling, and yet they feel "right", with a somehow orderly flow to them, as if something's being adjusted or healed inside of me. Then I wake up feeling rested, yet at the same time panicky, sometimes with a feeling of impending doom. I tell myself, "just get up and start moving"; and once I do, I usually feel more empowered and grounded, although I'm aware of an underlying sense of heaviness and depression that's there most of the time.

I suspect it has to do with the fact that I'm on the verge of making a major leap, a quantum leap; and in fact, we are all doing so, individually and collectively. No wonder things feel stirred up. I think we're doing damned well with it, to be honest. Time for a little pat on the back, and definitely time for us to take care of ourselves, in big ways and small, as we prepare for take-off.

What a difference a week makes

When I left for Dallas on May 17, the Pacific Northwest had just turned the corner fully into spring. White blossoms were showering from the apple trees, the forget-me-nots and wildflowers I planted in late April were beginning to sprout, and there was new green all around, tentative and vulnerable.

Arriving home on the 24th, I drove up the steep driveway into a paradise of purple ... tall columbines, blooming in indigo beside my front deck and everywhere else they've taken root since last year; rhododendron bushes covered with soft lavender and vibrant magenta blossoms; and lilac-hued flowers spiking out from the chive plant that has over-wintered in its pot for two years.

The apple and plum trees are completely leafed out now, casting shadows on the lawn, which at this moment is greatly in need of mowing. A large flock of bluish-gray band-tailed pigeons visits my birdfeeder every afternoon, and frogs chirp and croak their mating songs all night long. By 5:15 each morning, the sun is peeking through my bedroom window, a reminder that the summer solstice is a little over three weeks away.

I've taken the week off from blogging to dig in the earth (I've got a plot at the local community garden, and this is planting time) and to absorb what this season of change has brought for me. 

Bridges

I'm taking a trip tomorrow to Dallas to visit my Dad. He doesn't have a computer and I'm not bringing my laptop with me, so I'll be offline until I return home next week. We're going to spend some time in my parents' hometown in northeast Texas ... scattering my mother's ashes in her family's cemetery plot, visiting some relatives, and driving around the areas where my Dad grew up. Listening to him talk about his childhood during the Depression in the 1930s, of our family ancestors, and of his service in the Army Air Corps in WWII has been both fascinating and healing for me over the past few years.

I''ve got a lot of photographs of the Pacific Northwest to show my father and my friends in Dallas who've never been here. I took this one recently while driving across the Bridge of the Gods, which spans the Columbia River in the western Gorge. The view is downstream, toward the west, from a height of around 150 feet. This is a "Mom and Pop" kind of bridge, being owned and operated by the tiny town of Cascade Locks, Oregon. There is a wood frame toll booth at the Oregon end of the bridge, and there's someone there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. No matter what time of the year it is, they've usually got some sort of seasonal or holiday decor displayed. You can see the toll booth reflected in the car's rearview mirror in the lower righthand corner of this photo.