life's mysteries

So many things seem to be mysterious in my life. Why things happen, how events unfold and how the lives around me progress….all have elements that are simply unknown to me. It doesn’t mean they are unknowable, I feel. Yet, there is an element of incomprehension. Does it mean paying more attention? Or, is it best to redirect attention to what is knowable. I can balance out the priorities and, yet, there is that challenge that I think sometimes drives me forward. Or, do I really know anything as absolutely certain?

How about seeing the ordinary in a way that makes it kind of unknowable at first sight? It was fun to take the most mundane objects and try to photograph them as unknown or unknowable. 

The photo is of my spoon after eating cereal for breakfast....the sun is shining from across the room.

common ancestry

Each year the Carnaval parade wends its way through the Mission District for several hours on the last Sunday in May. Other than the joy of the participants and spectators, the awareness that I take away each is year is the devotion to heritage. This amazing “warrior” had already walked more than a mile barefoot in the ceremonial dress of his people. My heritage is less colorful, but our common ancestry crosses all cultures and I am glad to be reminded….and included.

take the time to look

When thinking about loss and death, it seems equally important to identify with life. In my small garden this morning I saw a Cabbage Moth, my regular tiny Painted Lady, our local Julia (the photo) and surprisingly, a Large Yellow Sulfur butterfly. Additionally, four kinds of song birds and a noisy pigeon couple were brief visitors. One squirrel and many varieties of insects clamored in the old Italian Cypress. All living and reproducing and changing form in and around my potted plants. I don’t have to search far for renewal, but the lesson is that I must take the time to look.

a long walk on the shore

Walking along the shore, listening to the unending and sometimes gentle pounding of the surf at low tide, breathing the constantly refreshed sea air has been a refuge for me for many years. The long thoughts that seem to be natural to the long views are comforting and help to put the highs and lows of my life in perspective. We are dealing with the second major loss in my family in one month. I am somewhat peripheral to it….physical distance and the impact of time. A long and solitary walk, nothing man-made in the view and time to absorb the chill of the air is much like my internal processing of loss and grief. I gained both awareness and comfort. But, the long walk must continue.

a neighbor with a black mask

Nature has so many aspects here in the center of San Francisco. I have been a minor bird watcher for many years and thought I knew most of the permanent residents and many of the transients. Yet, walking in the park near my home, I saw an amazing red bird with a black mask that I had never seen before. I spent a whole lot of time trying to identify it. Finally, got it…only to discover that hooded orioles are common in palm trees in our area….and the next street and the park are lined with palms...in fact, famous for them. I have lived in this area since the 60’s and had never paused to identify this beautiful little permanent resident.

The photo is not very good, taken with the lens zoomed way out and it was dusk.

the ordinary

A long walk yesterday through the City with various appointments and a little shopping seemed to be pretty much the ordinary. A brief and blessed little downpour made it very much like Spring, though. I passed a gardener’s truck with some plants on their way to a new home and saw for the first time since my childhood a beautiful type of woodbine--the sort without flowers. Then, a bit of cheerful noise from a playground and a nursery school’s children were running through the wet grass, frolicking with a dog who seemed to be part of their entourage. And, finally, I was stopped by a lovely little front garden with blooming iris. I did not have my camera, so I am substituting this beautiful Iris that I saw earlier this month at the SF Botanical Garden. Sometimes it is enough to just get out into your world!

changeless

The passiflora incarnata was seen by missionaries in the New World as a symbol of the passion of Christ and as a positive omen for their missionary work. This photo was taken in the San Francisco Botanical Garden last week.

Holy Week brings the transitions and changes in life to an astonishing focus. The passion of Christ, even as a myth or story, reminds us that the daily cares, losses, joys are for a short time. This too shall pass. One of the prayers in the Episcopal daily office asks that “we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life” find comfort in knowing that ultimately there is “changlessness”. This theme is central to many of the major religious traditions…in fact, seems as much Buddhist as Episcopalian!

It is thrilling to see each bud, each flowering tree showing newness, but still much like I remember from years past when observing the same plants in my garden. Seems like a window into “changelessness”. May both the Easter season and the transition from winter bring comfort and even joy in rebirth.