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A Saturday saunter: Light and shadow

Snow moon dancing with the clouds.

Our culture teaches us from early infancy to split and polarize dark and light, which I call here “mother” and “father.” So some people admire the right-thinking, well-lit side of the personality, and that group one can associate with the father, if one wants to; and some admire the left-thinking, poorly-lit side, and that group one can associate with the mother, if one wants to, and mythologically with the Great Mother. Most artists, poets, and musicians belong to the second group and love intuition, music, the feminine, owls, and the ocean. The right-thinking group loves action, commerce, and Empire.

~ Robert Bly, A Little Book on the Human Shadow Continue reading “A Saturday saunter: Light and shadow”

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A Saturday saunter

A small bit of sunshine.

There is an art to wandering.  If I have a destination, a plan – an objective – I’ve lost the ability to find serendipity.  I’ve become too focused, too single-minded.  I am on a quest, not a ramble.  I search for the Holy Grail of particularity, and miss the chalice freely offered, filled full to overflowing.

~ Cathy Johnson, On Becoming Lost

I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks—who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering, which word is beautifully derived “from idle people who roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretense of going à la Sainte Terre,” to the Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, “There goes a Sainte-Terrer,” a Saunterer, a Holy-Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea. But I prefer the first, which, indeed, is the most probable derivation. For every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels.

~ Henry David Thoreau, Walking

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A Friday meander: Disc golf

First basket.

The tree giveth, the tree taketh away.

Throw long and prosper.

~ Disc Golf jokes/sayings found on Pinterest

Make the wind your friend.

~ Jimmy Lane, disc golf player (found on a disc golf discussion board)

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Rain and music

Morning dark and dreary.

When a group of people sing together, we make up a chorus. When birds do, it’s more like a whole symphony orchestra.

~ Laura Erickson, The Bird Watching Answer Book

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.

~ Robert Lynd, The Blue Lion

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Hiking on a mild winter day

Watching as morning arrives.

Religious naturalists bear an attitude of reverence toward the universe as a whole, and toward the earth in particular – and they are disposed to expressing their reverence by affirming that nature is both sacred and mysterious. Naturalists are keenly aware of the contingency of all life forms, and when this awareness is taken to heart it generates a sense of gratitude toward nature.

~ Loyal Rue

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Getting in touch

Coming together. (A double expose of two photos taken this morning, of the sunrise and the moonset.)

When timeless moments solicit you, accept the invitation. Go deep within it, until you find yourself in your absence.

~ Jean Klein

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A Monday meander: Place

Yesterday morning.

Words act as a compass.  Place speech serves literally to enchant the land; to sing it back into being and to sing one’s being back into it.

~ Robert Macfarlane

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