Our recent sightseeing-hiking excursion to the west coast began in slack-jawed wonder while beholding yet again the stunning northern California redwoods, which are ever so old, but simply never get old. We proceeded from there to a deservedly renowned Japanese Garden in Portland, Oregon, after which we piled another tall trees experience onto the trip through the conifer forests surrounding Olympia, Washington. It was not till the last of those, while picking my way through an impossibly tangled old forest with giant happy evergreens, downed trees at every conceivable angle and stage of decay, and hip-high ferns sprawling over each…
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They are just so huge and enduring, and I am so small and mortal. That’s the long and the short, the big and the small of it for the millions of people who have trod these roads and trails over the centuries, beholding the majestic, domineering, stubborn redwoods that are native to the remarkably unpopulated far northern California coast as it morphs toward the Oregon border. Yes, human beings endure tangled relationships with humility. But to stand beneath a California redwood tree is to know that the matter was settled a few thousand years ago, leaving us no real choice…
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I hear ya, Bro. Not much about the world you see in front of you has seemed quite right from the beginning. Adults have drilled into you at every turn that you have to be honest, patient and kind, take turns, not be greedy, don’t cheat or steal or think you’re better or more deserving than anyone else. Practice the Golden Rule, don’t prey on those weaker, keep your promises, honor your commitments. But it seems everywhere you look, venality and aggression, vulgarity and dishonesty rule the day. Film stars, politicians, coaches, corporate titans, clergy and teachers knee deep in…
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“For she is the world creatrix, ever mother, ever virgin. She encompasses the encompassing, nourishes the nourishing, and is the life of everything that lives. She is also the death of everything that dies. The whole round of existence is accomplished within her sway, from birth, through adolescence, maturity, and senescence, to the grave. She is the womb and the tomb: the sow that eats its farrow. Thus she unites the ‘good’ and the ‘bad,’ exhibiting the two modes of the remembered mother, not as personal only, but as universal. The devotee is expected to contemplate the two with equal…
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*** First: the primeval fear and wonder, the fact of existence itself, the gaping at the savannas, the odd and menacing creatures abounding, the vast sprawl of the stars. Noting the deep growl of hunger, the insistent urge to sample tubers, mushrooms, fruit from the trees, the slow and hapless life forms crawling beneath our gaze. The terror of being prey for stronger and faster life forms, with their shrieks and snarls and rumbles through the night. Hearing the helpless wails of our mates being devoured. The seeking for shelter and haven. The cowering. The thinking. The gathering…