Abalone Portraits

When the abalone shell arrived, it had a crack in it. I decided to take a photo anyway. What I saw in the image was much more than I expected. We are like this, I thought. We forget the extraordinary beauty that comes right up to our cracks.

I could not stop taking close-ups as abalone arrived at my door from all over the world. The slightest shift brought dramatic changes. In this conversation with light and mystery I sensed a deeper connection. There were so many lessons here, a spiraling out to a universe of being. Joy and grief blended with so much at risk for the abalone and for us.

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The Abalone Are Dwindling

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The abalone are dwindling
In their rocky abodes
Along our coasts

It matters not that the
Maori and others
Understood their sacredness

With only dim sight
They sense their limitless world
Of kelp and water

Once they thrived
Breathing and mating through
Holes in their shells

Clamped down and
Holding tight was enough
As the tides found them

Now I grieve for the
Extraordinary beauty
They created never seeing it

In the twilight waters
The algae they eat influencing
Their evolving shell colors

The Goose Feather Sequence

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Spiraling down from
This fall sunset sky of geese
A lone tail feather

Dreaming here in my garden,
I sit watching a feather spin.
Warm light bathes the soft sweet moss
in welcome to this winsome sprite.
Bounding fast lest it escape her,
the clumsy cat misses it!

Held in her mouth like
A dagger, or a rose,
The goose feather trophy
Must smell strongly
Of potential prey
To my hungry cat –
She wants her dinner.

No need for any plucking
With feathers flying about,
Her poultry comes in cans
Extracted by turning
A gear and applying
A blade to cut the
Lid round ‘till it snaps.

I’ve been told, geese are the
Perfect prey for humans, when
That dire time comes with all
The secret factories abandoned
And we must revert to honesty
About the brutal sacrifice
Of those we prefer as food.

Music of the Spheres and Your Brain

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Could it be that our brains are singing meaning along with the universe?

Because I am taking a course on meditation and the brain, I have been thinking about how miraculous our continually changing human brains really are. I try to remind myself that even though we have names for parts of the complex brain, that does not mean we understand all that is going on.

For example, articles make broad claims about the benefits of singing, and my experience would agree. But studies also make clear that a better understanding of specific aspects might lead to useful practical applications. I began to wonder about whether the rhythms and compositions I intuitively frame in my close-up photos make use of skills enhanced by neuronal connections formed during many years of singing. My ability to detect and relate to subtle nuances in tone of voice certainly grew over that time.

Recently while meditating, I had the feeling that the fact that everything is constantly changing is not just an annoyance. It seemed a fundamental building block of reality and, in fact, worthy of awe. I had the odd thought that when our sun consumes our planet, that transience will still be vitally “alive.” I found that oddly reassuring.

Toward the end of this talk on the brain, Keith Kendrick mentions that the time series of activity in the brain carries meaning, not just the structure or individual signals. This resonated with the musical quality that physicists seem to find at all scales including the probability waves at the heart of quantum theory.

Of all the problematic human undertakings, we can be proud of the music we make using our miraculous brains and bodies. As this article on modern physics and music describes: “Music resonates, it pulses, it leaps into our psyches. It offers a safe space for scientists and musicians alike to work through the paradoxes of modern physics.”

A Personal Garden Refuge

It takes many years to really get to know a garden so that you are in each other’s bones. I encouraged the moss that already liked to grow here. I added stepping stones and a tea hut. I watched for the new maple leaves, and took their portraits in the fall. Children jumped on the stepping stones. Raccoons drank from the water basin. The garden and I bless each other with mutual nurturance even as we continually change. Peace gathered and peace extended.

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Noticing Stones

It is the rare child who does not like stones. Some of us never stop picking them up. It is not just the stones but the process – the adventures involved in finding them and the friendships.

These examples lined up above my monitor speak of the natural world with resonances appreciated by the Asian scholar.

Viewing stones on shelf

A close looks provides access to amazing details and dreams:

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When Once Is Enough


Near the Morrisonite mine site looking across the canyon

When I first came across the pendant below,

Croppedpendant

I could find very little written about Morrisonite, so I decided to work on an article myself. Now articles and photos of this rare jasper and the location where it was mined are available online.

I bought a digital camera with super-macro capability and sought out opportunities to take photos of the incredibly diverse patterns and colors. Making friends with miners, lapidaries and rock shop owners in the course of writing that article eventually led to an invitation to visit the mine site, itself.

Of the seven of us on that adventure, two had mined Morrisonite jasper, three had websites selling it, and one was the grandson of a rock shop owner who had known the discoverer of this jasper. We took two four-wheel drive vehicles so as to have a back-up just in case. It would not do to get stuck in the desert highlands in the middle of nowhere in eastern Oregon.

On the way to the steep canyon side, we passed farms, fruit orchards, wild flowers in clumps, sage brush (nice fragrance), cattle, horses, antelope, a coyote, a hawk flying with a snake in its claws, jack rabbits, and grouse. Despite the relative dryness, the area is very fertile because of ample volcanic ash.

The final dirt track was intentionally left rough to encourage folks to stay out. We drove very slowly jouncing over large rocks and ruts. Beyond the second switch back on the final approach, it was no longer possible to drive, so we got out and made our way down the steep track contending with loose pebbles and sand.

While the others hiked down the steep canyon wall to the mine site, I stayed in the top area with a friend who had a bad shoulder. The weather was perfect. It was a very dreamy location to spend an afternoon largely in silence, exploring two abandoned miners’ cabins, watching the light shift on the canyon formations and looking to see if there might still be some Morrisonite left in situ that I could photograph (there was).

I only visited the mine site that one time. However, looking at the jasper, framing close-ups of sections, and my special relationships with those who share my passion for Morrisonite became treasured refuges. As for the mine site itself, sometimes being just once in a magical place can provide nurturance for an entire lifetime.