How many words have been written about Easter? What more is there to say? Well, there is always personal revelation which seems to be a font of never ending inspiration. Sometimes when we realize something for ourselves we strike new paydirt. Isn’t this really what counts? Isn’t this really what makes a difference? We can hear a lifetime of Easter sermons and still not grasp the importance of the day until…
Today I wake with the idea in my head that more than any other day in history this day could be the single most important day. It really sealed the deal for this idea of victory over death and paved the way for Christian ideas to influence the world. It was pivotal in other words.
And here we are now with our mounds of chocolate eggs and neighborhood egg hunts which don’t say much about this historic upheaval. But we can realize it personally one at a time despite the distractions of the world. It can be very personal and private to start. But we will soon meet others who share our enthusiasm.
Yea, here it is, had a dream about the bearded lady last night. I don’t know if you want to read about it but I’m thinking it has it’s appeal. This so reminds me of the the half and half woman that I dreamed about and fell in love with several years ago. She was half beautiful and half disfigured. She helped me understand the Transfiguration when I needed it.
In my dream last night I was outside at some event and apparently I dawdled and my party went on without me. So to catch up I had to walk out to the road and walk down the road to get to where they were headed. So I am walking with a limp and I make it out to the road and start down the shoulder when the bearded lady stops to give me a lift. Must have looked like I needed it. Her rig was an old person’s car. You know one of those big chunks of American steel that was bought new in the 1970’s or 80’s and has been driven lovingly since. It’s like a maroon Mercury maybe.
I hop in, well maybe not hop in but old person get in. And who do I encounter but this Georgia O’Keefe looking gray haired woman with a red beard. Not like a big bushy beard but a definite beard and it’s red, hard to miss. And I am entranced and off we go. My dream ended so I don’t know what happened but it seemed more interesting that what I was doing.
It seems my dreams are populated by a cast of colorful characters. And not only that but people that maybe I am not comfortable with at first but learn to appreciate and love. Maybe that is a lesson in itself.
And today is the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. A day that has room to wonder. What went on back then two thousand years ago on this day and what is going on today. What did the bearded lady have to offer?
Our recent full moon about to set. (photo P Volker)
Down to the last few sticks of firewood and the last few handfuls of bird seed here at the ranch. The forces of winter and spring continue to duke it out day by day but neither seems to get the upper hand. And tomorrow is Good Friday the mother of all bitter ends.
Somehow Catherine and I are supposed to show up at church tomorrow morning at 4 AM to do an hour vigil, people are taking turns. OK. that is about my speed sitting in a pew for an hour. I will say a rosary for Jacqui, one of my walkers whose cancer situation finally overwhelmed her. Ahh.
Years ago I gave up doing anything much on Good Friday, no power tools kind of day. Early on I realized I was too distracted by something that happened two thousand years ago. Sometimes we just have to hunker down and wait it out.
That was it, yesterday late afternoon, our first official tapas. The sun was warm and the seats were dry and it was just like old times except we were pretty out of shape. But we were all happy with the proceedings.
Henriette was here and she had brought some good food and drink. And Cathy and Tim were here and they brought some goodies. And we had some things to contribute and like any good tapa situation it was a potluck.
Like an impromptu picnic along the side of the Camino with whomever was around, everyone would contribute what they had.
I just had a crazy memory from Spain. This was during the time before Burgos walking with Gracie. When we were on pavement or more primitive road I would pick up nails and screws that were potential flat tires for someone. One time I picked up three potatoes that had fallen off a truck. I carried them for a few days thinking they might come in handy. Probably pulled them out for a few impromptu picnics and we joked about them. We finally planted them in the soil along the road somewhere.
Ok, time to move on. Maybe I’ll get some pics from yesterday and I will get them to you.
I have patiently been waiting for the Ken Burns, “Hemingway” documentary for a long, long time. It has been in the works for 7 years. I am sure, being Ken Burns, it will not disappoint. As I continue to wait until the 5th of April for its official release, my focus lately has been on my property grounds, garden, yard work, plants, hammocks in between tress, lots of gravel, topsoil, Motrin….
The birds are elevating their pitch and their singing is getting more and more involved every morning.
Have to get those hummingbird feeders out..
One thing I have noticed about the birds here on the East Coast compared to living in Washington State is that they are much smaller and brighter and multitudes of color. Like a box of crayons in the trees.
This is the year of the Cicada. Once in I think 14 or 17 years, they converge upon this area with deafening chirping. Good times. I will drown them out with my John Deere, have no fear..
The pandemic is lifting quickly here in the DMV (Delaware, Maryland, Virginia). Life has been ferociously roaring back in Washington, D.C. The traffic is back. The crowds are getting bigger again. The pause of life, the great reset of the pandemic is rapidly being replaced with normalcy. What I am curious about, however, is normalcy good? Where we overly worked, anxious, stressed, pissed off over nothing, tired before the pandemic? Will we appreciate more of life, or will we fall right back into the same trap of, now-now-now, go-go-go…..
One thing I actually enjoyed about the pandemic….less people. Less crowds. Much more quiet. Less traffic. Less pollution the traffic brings. Less middle fingers out windows because someone got cut-off. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am wanting life to come back, for sure, but I tell you what, there was something special about needing reservations ahead of time to go and see my beloved Smithsonian Museums, feeling like the whole place was open just for me…I would walk down many hallways and the only people I would see were the occasional security guards with their mask on….bored..just the way I like it. Felt like, “Night at the Museum”.
OK, I got the first shot, getting second next week (thank you Veteran’s Administration). I am eager like everyone else to jump back into life, but with my mind on how there was actually some good that came when we all had no choice but to sit back, take a serious chill pill and just watch the birds….
There is a headline! We have two different parties coming from two different directions. Henriette from the north and Tim and Cathy from the east.
How long has it been? Well, I am not exactly sure but we shut down last March for visitors til some time in May. And March being the end of that winter it could go back four or five more months through that winter. It has been a long time to say the least.
It is such a relief to be vaccinated and have others in the same state. We can get together get in small groups. And here we are being on the verge of tapas. Or should I write, TAPAS!!
But that is tomorrow. Right now I am off to do our morning walk. It is frosty out there but the sun is shining.
Terry Hershey and Felipé, September 2020. (photo N Pendergast)
For being so tiny they sure pack a punch. Plus they always make me smile. Not a huge face shifting smile but that little barely perceivable smile that is just an acknowledgment that things are still OK and on track in my locale.
If someone were to ask me what is the very best piece of cancer fighting gear around I would have a ready answer. But I am not a doctor and am never asked that kind of question. Not my purview I guess. But if the day comes, I would say a hummingbird. With some right outside the patient’s window, readily available. Feeders will bring them in.
They are little beings so tiny and seemingly fragile yet so capable and agile. They seem at once insignificant and at the same time possessing a one up on the rest of us on the playing field. And they have their own worries and dramas that are fun to try and unravel. They are hardly little robots the way insects are. They are very entertaining.
And when a person is dealing with pain, anxiety and depression to name a few demons, a different reality is refreshing and important in getting outside one’s own worries which can easily be self consuming.
Of course, I am lucky that hummingbirds exist here where I am and even all winter which is crazy. Maybe they are not everywhere which is too bad. But maybe I am partial to hummers and maybe other critters would provide similiar benefit. PFJ has cardinals in Iowa that come to his feeders right outside his window.
Anyway, having some easy conduit to nature and an aspect of it that is lively and involving is potent medicine. I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while, so good there it is. Catherine will be here shortly. We will say a rosary for Jim who had that tractor accident yesterday.
Just when you are thinking you are having a bad day you hear about someone else’s. We had some tragedy strike, not with us but close.
Our son Wiley’s father-in-law got into trouble yesterday and our daughter-in-law witnessed it. Jim was working on one of his tractors in the yard at his home and the thing broke free, rolled and ran over him. He has been hospitalized with broken pelvis and maybe broken ribs. Kind of a crazy deal but stuff happens.
So, we are regrouping. Jim is awake and groggy and they should operate soon to put some pins in. So prayers please.
I am loosing steam here right now. Have to go and take care of things.
Susan, one of our avid Caminoheads, had put up a comment recently with a quote from a sign on the Meseta. Or was it graffiti? It said, “Don’t stop before the miracle.” That is so doubley Camino, isn’t it? Man we all need to take that in!
I do feel like this year and some of the pandemic has been like walking across the Meseta. It was so exposed. If you want to talk rain, yes it would have too much rain. If you wanted to talk wind, yes it had too much wind. If you talk sun, yes. If you talk loneliness, yes. Blisters as always, yes. Towns and water were far apart.
“Don’t stop before the miracle.” Reading that and being able to take it in would make all the difference to a worn out pilgrim. Get another ten steps, another five kilometers. Get to shade.
And now we have similar tiredness, similiar everything except the blisters maybe. We need to hang on and keep going like we know how. Yes?
