All That Matters

February 15, 2016 by scillagrace

(this is a featured article in this month’s issue of The Be Zine. Click here to see the whole thing.)

Once upon a time, there were a bunch of Big Brains who decided that living things (which they rarely called ‘living beings’) needed to be neatly organized. Grouping things together based on similarity was important to them for some reason. So they made up categories and named them Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species, in succession from broad to specific. Then they had to remember these categories, so they memorized “Kindly Professors Cannot Often Fail Good Students” – apropos of nothing much. (Personally, I think “Kindly People Courageously Offer Fauna/Flora General Sympathy” might make better sense.)

Meanwhile, some other Big Brains decided that everything in the Universe was made by one Creator and that He gave humans dominion over all the other animal species on Earth and gave every plant for human use. That made them feel they were Most Important among the creatures on the planet. They felt very comfortable with that and valued themselves, and those that looked and acted most like them, very highly.

As for those creatures who were terribly different from them, well, they were kind of “icky”.

Well, these Big Brains were very clever. They prospered and multiplied (and divided and conjugated and came up with quantum physics). They learned how to make a Big Impact on the Earth, making things they liked out of the raw materials Earth had. And every year, there were more of them. They liked to be comfortable, so they tried to eliminate things that bothered them. Like locusts. And dandelions.

They liked to be powerful, so they claimed victories over other living things that had power. Like lions. And giant sequoias.

Gradually, they noticed that some of the other living things (or Living Beings) were disappearing completely. Some people thought that was a shame, especially if the thing was useful or furry or had a face. Others noticed that when one type of thing was gone, things began to change for the rest as well. A few Big Brains began to ask some really Tough Questions about why things on the Earth were changing so quickly and whether the Big Impact of humans had anything to do with it.

I can’t tell you the ending of this story. Perhaps the Big Brains will disappear like so many other Living Beings did, and Earth will go on without them. Perhaps the Big Brains will become less numerous, less dominant, and Earth will go on with them. Perhaps something altogether different will happen. It doesn’t really matter how I tell the story.

What does matter?

Well, here on Earth, ‘matter’ can also mean every Living Being and every non-Living Thing.

What we Big Brains decide to do with all matter will matter and will help tell the end of the story.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Vibrant in Color and Shadow

January 29, 2016 by scillagrace

How much color is a “Woman of Maturity” allowed to wear, anyway? Mother Nature gets away with quite a lot: yellows, oranges, reds, purples, blues and greens of infinite shades. For the better part of the year, she is clad in the most spectacular array of rainbow hues.

And in some parts of the world, she spends months at a time wearing a shroud of monochrome, showing her age and her unique gravity. This hints at perhaps a serious contemplation of the energy it takes to be fecund and exuberantly colorful.

Don’t let this muted color palette fool you. The ol’ girl is just as vibrant as ever, and her maturity shows in her ability to exhibit her shadow side with just as much style and grace as she displays on her sunnier face!

May we follow her example and not be ashamed to show our true colors in their full spectrum!

Vibrant

The Nature of Nurturing

January 15, 2016 by scillagrace

This article was written as a feature for the Be Zine and will be published later today.

Spiritual Lessons from Nature #5

The great fur bulk lies supine, inert, warm, creating a sheltered harbor in the deep snow in contrast to the flat, icy landscape. Two milky cubs clamber dough-footed all around, exploring clumsily, arousing no concern. They orbit close by, drawing into contact periodically to suckle and nuzzle. The wind blows a moderately threatening question of survival through the morning. Mother closes her eyes to the sting, looking sleepy and stupid, lifting her blinking face to the sun. She is the solid thing in a shifting drift, placid and mountainous, serenely established on the face of the horizon.

This image of motherhood was suggested to me by a wise psychiatrist as I sat in her Pasadena home with my husband while our daughter crawled at our feet. I was 22 years old and suffering from postpartum depression and anxiety. I wanted to be the perfect parent, to do everything right in order to raise up a child who would take her place as a blessed jewel in the crown of my god. My models spoke in scriptural tones, living or in print. My aspirations were clear, I thought, my inspiration abundant.

And I was exhausted.

The good doctor looked at my 98-pound frame and announced her diagnosis with authority. She looked at my daughter exploring a paperback with her fingers and mouth and recognized great intelligence. It seemed to her that we were not badly broken or dysfunctional, but we needed to relax. Parenting is a living thing, a responsive dance with biology, and although we humans are biologically social creatures, heavy-handed social structure can strangle our relationships and bind us into damaging patterns. My reliance on the authority of these constructs seemed helpful at first, but that lock-step really tripped me up when my children were in their teenage years.

The tendency to defer to “experts” in my Western affluent culture is a dangerous trend for parenting, I think. It can lead to a mistrust of instinct and compassion. That can also translate to lower self-confidence and heightened anxiety in both parent and child. I see that demonstrated in stories of helicopter parent vigilantes, DCSF over-reactions, and soaring statistics on depression and suicide in young people. I also see that in my own 4 children 30 years after my initial visit to an “expert”. They are still working out their concerns about “doing it right” and their responsibility to “make good decisions”. A good decision is perhaps a lot easier to make than we suppose.

My only son was born hastily into the world when the doctor noticed fecal matter in his amniotic fluid. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck as well. At six pounds and six ounces, he had a slight case of jaundice. I brought my fragile bundle home, and the hospital equipped us with a bili light to give him extra skin exposure to the blue light that would help convert bilirubin. I was instructed to give him plenty of fluids and to let him lie under that lamp in just a diaper and protective eye shades for a good 8 hours a day. I kept a detailed record of the time he spent nursing and how much glucose water he would drink from a bottle, and I charted his time in the bili-box. Newborns have an instinctive response to feeling a “sudden loss of support” called the “Moro reflex”. They flail their arms out and cry. This is what my son did when he was in that chamber. It broke my heart. I decided, in my 24 year old wisdom, that what he needed more was to be swaddled and held. So I wrapped him up tight and carried him into the living room. My mother was visiting and helping me with my older child. I poured out to her my worry about whether I should follow the doctor’s instructions to the letter or whether I should comfort my son. She and I commiserated about the difficulties of parenting, and I realized that she wasn’t going to help me decide. She was going to help me by letting me decide and supporting my decision.

And that’s the other sustaining image of motherhood I gained early in my parenting.

When they’re young, lie down with them. When they’re older, support their decisions. Your presence is the greatest gift you can give your children. Don’t try to give them too much of anything else. They need to get those other things themselves.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Weight and Gravity

January 8, 2016 by scillagrace

Things that are not weighty can be significant nevertheless. What is greater than a seed on the wind for the future of a plant?

What is more important than light that lifts the soul in the dark of winter?

And something as weightless as a feather is essential for a bird to soar.

We are wise to take the ethereal seriously: the death of the canary in the mine, the evaporation of a pond, the butterfly that will not migrate. They tell us vital things.

At the same time, we must examine the gravity we feel about death. Is it really such an enormous thing? It is altogether common and expected.

And even mountains move – eventually.

The cosmos is forever dancing with the forces of gravity. The stars are light on their feet; they twirl and twinkle, smiling their whole lives long. We are made of star stuff. Let’s lighten up! After all, what could be more meaningful?

Photo credit: Carol Toepke

Remember this post when you feel like you’re doing too much heavy lifting.

Weight(less)

Weekly Photo Challenge: The Circle of Life

January 1, 2016 by scillagrace

I see life in the miracle of the spherical –

of the cycle, the whole, balanced circumference –

of endings that beget beginnings, the disappearance that creates an opening that begs a new adventure –

of gestating generations.

Life encircles all around. Literally.

May this year bring you the peace and joy of Life – wherever you may see yourself in the circle. And thank you for including me in the embrace of your life by your visit!

Circle

Weekly Photo Challenge: Oops! Fun Fails

December 11, 2015 by scillagrace

Walking along the Ice Age Trail in June can take you along the tops of glacial formations like kames and eskers and drumlins. It can also take you through kettles and boggy meadows. Wisconsin in June is often wet. We are blessed with abundant fresh water in the Great Lakes region. It’s a glorious thing to watch the greening of the landscape each year because of all that water. Things certainly bust out all over here. The tendency to misjudge the depth of water on the path is probably a pretty common “oops” for many hikers. But what a delight to pull off your soggy boots and socks and run barefoot in the new grass!

Oops!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Eye Spy the Green Fire

December 4, 2015 by scillagrace

Headlines today are full of accounts of killing. Too many people are spying through cross-hairs; that’s very scary to me. Looking into the eye of life – seeing living, sentient beings for what they are – is a sacred experience, I believe. Here is an amazing written account of that, by Aldo Leopold as told in “Killing the Wolf” from A Sand County Almanac, and Sketches Here and There:

We were eating lunch on a high rimrock, at the foot of which a turbulent river elbowed its way. We saw what we thought was a doe fording the torrent, her breast awash in white water. When she climbed the bank toward us and shook out her tail, we realized our error: it was a wolf. A half-dozen others, evidently grown pups, sprang from the willows and all joined in a welcoming melee of wagging tails and playful maulings. What was literally a pile of wolves writhed and tumbled in the center of an open flat at the foot of our rimrock.

In those days we had never heard of passing up a chance to kill a wolf. In a second we were pumping lead into the pack, but with more excitement than accuracy; how to aim a steep downhill shot is always confusing. When our rifles were empty, the old wolf was down, and a pup was dragging a leg into impassable side-rocks.

We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes—something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.

May all beings be respected. May the green fire be rekindled in our time.

Eye Spy

Weekly Photo Challenge: Transition, part 2

November 28, 2015 by scillagrace

Dawn in the Whisker Lake Wilderness

The “fringe” areas of the wild, where forest meets water, where sun meets horizon, are the most dynamic, teeming with diverse life and activity. In the solid middle of the night, or noon-day, it is quieter. The excitement of these transitional spaces is palpable. I rise at dawn to greet the sun with the birds and the frogs and the porcupine, rummaging in the leaves. I am thrilled by the feeling of life and change and movement. My eyes and ears and heart are open to what is happening. NOW is a transition, a flowing joy.

Transition

Weekly Photo Challenge: …and Baby Makes Three

November 20, 2015 by scillagrace

I had only just bought myself my first digital camera for my 50th birthday 8 days before I went hiking at Lapham Peak State Park and this family of sandhill cranes flew directly overhead. I knew it would be a long shot that I had all the settings on it correctly programmed, but I snapped away in hope. There they are…

…and there they go….

Of course, three is a magic number. We all learned that from Schoolhouse Rock, didn’t we?

Trio

Weekly Photo Challenge: Naturally Ornate

November 6, 2015 by scillagrace

My first association with the theme word is the Ornate Box Turtle. I was just listening to a herpetologist on NPR using that word to describe a different species of turtle; apparently, there are a few that have earned the description in their common name. I met Boxy when I was volunteering at the Wehr Nature Center. Boxy is of an endangered species that inhabits the sandy areas of southwestern Wisconsin. She (I know because her eyes are brown, not red) has a cleverly hinged carapace that allows her to draw her head and limbs in and seal up almost completely when threatened. This is a picture taken through the not-quite-clean glass of her holding tank. It doesn’t do her coloring justice. She appears grumpy because she had just had her beak and nails trimmed at the vet. When it is grown out longer, the corners of her mouth don’t appear so down-turned.

Here is another example of the naturally ornate: wild turkey feathers. These are on a stuffed bird at the Madison Arboretum. The structural iridescence of feathers is a fascinating thing. They are not pigmented. They are prismed (if that’s a word). And each branch of the hair-like parts is barbed so that it will knit back together with its neighbor to form a more solid surface. When birds preen, they are re-knitting their feather edges.

Of course, Nature is often showing off in flowers. Ornate, breathtaking, in color and detail that is microscopically fine, often symmetrical, and elaborately patterned. Here are a few examples: a lily and Queen Anne’s lace.

Nature is extravagant, abundant, opulent, and rich in so many ways. Oh, and it is free. Just appears without us having to do anything. In fact, it becomes even more fantastic when we leave it alone. What a wonderful world!

Ornate

(this is a featured article in this month’s issue of The Be Zine. Click here to see the whole thing.)

As for those creatures who were terribly different from them, well, they were kind of “icky”.

They liked to be powerful, so they claimed victories over other living things that had power. Like lions. And giant sequoias.

What does matter?

Well, here on Earth, ‘matter’ can also mean every Living Being and every non-Living Thing.

What we Big Brains decide to do with all matter will matter and will help tell the end of the story.

Share this:

How much color is a “Woman of Maturity” allowed to wear, anyway? Mother Nature gets away with quite a lot: yellows, oranges, reds, purples, blues and greens of infinite shades. For the better part of the year, she is clad in the most spectacular array of rainbow hues.

And in some parts of the world, she spends months at a time wearing a shroud of monochrome, showing her age and her unique gravity. This hints at perhaps a serious contemplation of the energy it takes to be fecund and exuberantly colorful.

Don’t let this muted color palette fool you. The ol’ girl is just as vibrant as ever, and her maturity shows in her ability to exhibit her shadow side with just as much style and grace as she displays on her sunnier face!

May we follow her example and not be ashamed to show our true colors in their full spectrum!

Share this:

This article was written as a feature for the Be Zine and will be published later today.

Spiritual Lessons from Nature #5

And I was exhausted.

And that’s the other sustaining image of motherhood I gained early in my parenting.

When they’re young, lie down with them. When they’re older, support their decisions. Your presence is the greatest gift you can give your children. Don’t try to give them too much of anything else. They need to get those other things themselves.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Share this:

Things that are not weighty can be significant nevertheless. What is greater than a seed on the wind for the future of a plant?

What is more important than light that lifts the soul in the dark of winter?

And something as weightless as a feather is essential for a bird to soar.

We are wise to take the ethereal seriously: the death of the canary in the mine, the evaporation of a pond, the butterfly that will not migrate. They tell us vital things.

At the same time, we must examine the gravity we feel about death. Is it really such an enormous thing? It is altogether common and expected.

And even mountains move – eventually.

The cosmos is forever dancing with the forces of gravity. The stars are light on their feet; they twirl and twinkle, smiling their whole lives long. We are made of star stuff. Let’s lighten up! After all, what could be more meaningful?

Remember this post when you feel like you’re doing too much heavy lifting.

Share this:

I see life in the miracle of the spherical –

of the cycle, the whole, balanced circumference –

of endings that beget beginnings, the disappearance that creates an opening that begs a new adventure –

of gestating generations.

Life encircles all around. Literally.

May this year bring you the peace and joy of Life – wherever you may see yourself in the circle. And thank you for including me in the embrace of your life by your visit!

Share this:

Share this:

May all beings be respected. May the green fire be rekindled in our time.

Share this:

Dawn in the Whisker Lake Wilderness

Share this:

…and there they go….

Of course, three is a magic number. We all learned that from Schoolhouse Rock, didn’t we?

Share this:

Of course, Nature is often showing off in flowers. Ornate, breathtaking, in color and detail that is microscopically fine, often symmetrical, and elaborately patterned. Here are a few examples: a lily and Queen Anne’s lace.

Nature is extravagant, abundant, opulent, and rich in so many ways. Oh, and it is free. Just appears without us having to do anything. In fact, it becomes even more fantastic when we leave it alone. What a wonderful world!

Share this: