Just a Thought Series ~ Time on my Mountain ~ December 10, 1970

Thinking of a sunshine day

On the dark lime velvet 

Of Tamalpa's robes

Sentries oak and noble redwood

Watching for the spirit wind

Mt. Tamalpais Glow
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Far below

The ocean's cycle

In lake like calms

Toy boats rock in the crispness

Of a December morn

Looking down from Mt. Tam to Stinson Beach

The clarity of winter

So defines itself

In the timelessness of the day

The innocence of truth's heartchild

Holds me in the peaceful void

Of non-seeking

Time
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Transcending the duality of

Observer and observed

I rest quietly in oneness

With the moment between

All time and no time

19 Ought 70 was a year of transition for me. I moved back to Marin County after six years away at college and spent part of the summer exploring British Columbia and Alberta with my dog and two friends I met along the way. Home in the fall to start the next chapter of my life. Growing up on Mt. Tamalpais is a gift that continues to shape my world. It's always a calming and magical place to spend time. 

Just a Thought Series ~ Another Aha Moment ~ August 17, 1978

Ever the child I continue to learn

Though at times 
It's at my own expense

There's an eerie light to the east
A wildfire's child

The air becomes a gossamer shroud

For the dreams of some
New beginnings for others

Though I've seen no flames
It's presence is felt

I am strongly intrigued
By the possibilities of chance

Your words awaken me 
From a jello minded lull

Of the sometimes 
All to consistent coastal fog

Words on timely wings

Thank you for the thoughts

I've been resting, resisting, too long

In a relationship of less than real

How could I have misplaced 
The value of passion

The key to alive

Cutting loose is difficult

But I know my happiness and creativity

Depend on what I do for my self

I was living in Jenner at the time, high up on a hill that overlooked the mouth of the Russian River. The wildfire was the Creighton Ridge fire in Cazadero. There was concern it might crest the ridge, but little chance it would reach Jenner. I do, however, remember laying in bed one night thinking about what I'd grab on short notice.

Who provided the "words on timely wings" that shook me back into renewed consciousness? Momentarily stumped, I went a few pages back in my journal to see if I could find something. The entry for August 15, 1978 had three lines, no doubt excerpted from a book and not my original journals. The initials "TG" at the bottom of the page cleared it all up. Tom is a long time friend who I've know since 1973. He was in the Coast Guard stationed in Maine at the time and we must have been corresponding about what was going on in our lives. The full text is:

"For our one chance lies in expanding that interval, in getting as many pulsations as possible into the given time. Great passions may give us this quickened sense of life, ecstasy and sorrow of love, the various forms of enthusiastic activity, disinterested or otherwise, which come naturally to many of us. Only be sure it is passion — that it does yield you this fruit of a quickened, multiplied consciousness. Of such wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of art for its own sake, has most. For art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments' sake". 

The words are from Walter Pater (1839-1894), taken from his Conclusions in "The Renaissance." He was an English essayist, writer of fiction, and literary and art critic. He was educated at The Queens College and Oxford. He argues that the most profound and passionate occasions in life, are the instances when, like viewing artwork, we are bombarded with emotion and sensory overload in a mere moment.

Just a Thought Series ~ for Rod on Valentine's Day 2015

This was written not long after I met the love of my life at the Fort Ross Volunteer Fire Department Picnic in Cazadero on May 23, 1981. Rod lived up on the Navarro Ranch the first year we were together so we'd only cross paths on weekends. 

His pup Hazel would jump up into the crate on the back of his Honda 90 and they'd motor a few miles down the hill to the Blue Heron Restaurant in Duncans Mills. Once the bike was locked up under the deck, he and Hazel would come stay with Jessie and me in Sebastopol. He was a best kept secret for months and it drove my girlfriends crazy. 

At work, though hardly working

Some late afternoon daydreams

Toying with my senses and concentration

Sipping spring water 
And kisses from your well

Fingerprints in places rarely touched

There is nothing so amusingly precise
As keeping the Who, What, Where and When 

Ladies at bay

You are a mystery man

Only the sweet Buddha 

Knows my secret

For my smile and my eyes

Speak only and without words

I've changed my plans

For the weekend

May we come play in your meadow

And sleep beneath your stars?

Just a Thought Series ~ April 24, 1976

April 24, 1976

The synchronicity of my life continues to baffle and entertain. I was looking through some of my old journals this afternoon and came upon something I'd written 37 years ago today. It is as timely now as it was then.

April

Prelude to spring

Buds full to bursting

Carpets of color

Tickle fancies and feet

Minutes to hours to days

Ocean's rhythm

Seasons

A continuum

As vital as a heartbeat

Within touch or in solitude

The river runs deep

Knowing this loves exists

Beyond the everyday

Is a simple joy

Worth more than any fortune

Today the words are for my husband Rod, the delightful bear who has surrounded me with love, warmth, laughter, and good food for the last three decades. 





Just a Thought Series ~ Feb 13, 1970

The majesty of rock cliff bones

Rise above our heads

Sweet air

Muscles spring to life with the climb

Ascent and descent to the womb of the falls

Photo from symtrnr 1

Late morning at Tahquitz Falls

Warm smoothness

Of long washed granite

Carved by a constant flow

Within and without

Under the sun's warmth

Remember yourself

Be true to your free spirit

Imagination with meaning
Becomes reality

I knew nothing about the history of Tahquitz Falls or the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians when my friend took me to this magical place forty plus years ago and I wrote my thoughts. I found these words today on the Tahquitz Canyon website http://www.tahquitzcanyon.com. There is much to be learned from our ancestors, never forget we are all of the tribe Human. 

This is a place of contrasts;

it is a place of ancient and new,

a place of power.

Come with the right purpose

 and a clear mind to enjoy it beauty and mystery.

Just a Thought Series ~ Jan 1, 1981

The winter nesting continues as I scout the house drawer by drawer. A couple of days ago I found a few faded pages torn from a journal. I think my love of blue highways may have started with this trip to Colorado.

Goodbyes are difficult

No tears, but a knot within

I feel like I'm holding my breath

Watching you, watching me

As I drive away

Colorado Rocky Mountain Splendor

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As I head into the sunset
It hits me
My journal is blank and open to new chapters

The possibilities bring a smile

Hell Yes!

I am my own best educator

I need only to look inside and ask

What are you thinking?

Tell me how you feel?

The Power Within
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It's so much better

To experience reality

Than to live with the undefined fantasy

of perhaps

On the road again

God it's good to be traveling

It always puts things in perspective

A post script to this journal entry ~ Five months later I met the love of my life at the Fort Ross Volunteer Fire Department Picnic in Cazadero, CA and we continue to travel blue highways 31 years later.

Just a Thought Series ~ July 29, 1971

Having answers makes you wiser

Having questions makes you human
~

Perhaps it's time to do some thinking

But there are no thoughts 
It seems this free and open space 
Has allowed me to unplug

Spiritual Energy

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When this was written I was midway through a week long stay at a friend's farm near Cave Junction, OR. On this summer afternoon I sat naked and cross legged in an ocean of wildflowers with a journal and pen in hand. 

As we get caught up in life we tend to forget about the simple acts that help us to find the elusive compass point of center. Life is short, it's important take more time outs and unplug from it all. Some destinations may be in your own back yard or just up the road. 

 Richardson's Grove, CA

Marin Headlands

Beverly Beach Park, OR

This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Time cools, time clarifies; no mood can be maintained quite unaltered through the course of hours. 

Mark Twain

This is the no excuses tour, time wasted is time lost forever. 

Shelley Macdonald

Just a Thought Series ~ October 8, 1976

Full moon cradled

In a pin cushion sky

 

Cradled Moon

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Autumn's subtle ways

Warm the soul

Night air surrounds me

Like a hug

The crackle of a warm fire

Bakes my toes

Campfire
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The mystery of a season change

Forever intrigues me
Creative juices
Are once again nudging their way
out of the box

Just a Thought Series ~ August 21, 1976

Early morning fog

Blankets the coastal sands

Waves heard but not seen

Diamonds in the spiderwebs

On the porch

In Solitude

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Peaceful here today

No promises to keep

No place to be

Enjoying the solitude

Just a Thought Series ~ Oct 28, 1975

Child of nature

Daughter to the sea

Warm water woman

So full of love

Feel my movement as a song

The Nereid

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Tears of joy ~ Morning rain

A river finds itself

With the suddeness

Of an autumn sunrise

Watchman Tower Zion National Park

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Gently moving from the hills

To awaken and to nourish

All that it touches

Paths of no resistence

Caressing with subtle fullness

The caverns and smooth curves

Of a mountain
Of a man 

Just a Thought Series ~ July 28, 1975

Life is a learning curve and the light bulb just came on again. My journals are filled to the brim with carefully chosen words and gentle thoughts ~ life emerging in robes of rainbow color and velvet softness. But this isn't the real deal. In translation from mind to paper I filter experiences so the words come out smooth and romantic. Ah, ever the Piscean dreamer.

Dreamer

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There's a certain charm to such an outlook, but it keeps you incomplete. I need to leave my experiences unwashed and unedited as I put them to paper: anger and fear, sadness and joy, understanding and confusion, warts and all. 

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

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I've always trusted my intuition and I now realize I can trust others with my thoughts and not worry about what they think. Perhaps wisdom does come with age. I'm finding great joy in these discoveries: the freedom to question, explore, observe and write from the heart not the mind. Consciousness is a constant challenge. It's like running a little farther each day, sometimes a little difficult but you know it's good for body and soul.

~

"Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't."

Mark Twain

~

"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”

George Bernard Shaw

Just a Thought Series ~ Fall 1975 or so

I was rummaging through some old photographs I set aside for my collage and altered book projects. The purpose was to come up with a way to organize the chaos of a unsorted box. During the expedition I rediscovered this photo. The words of the hand carved grave marker have always made me smile: reminding me of my own father. 

A little history: I was on two week road trip to Colorado. We spent a couple of nights in Crested Butte with a friend of my traveling partner. To get to Aspen we decided on a road less traveled and took Kebler Pass towards Redstone. We made a short detour to an old grave yard where I photographed this marker. I've always wanted to know the story behind it so I did a little research this morning. I looked up pioneer graveyards in the area including Ruby and Irwin and found nothing. Not one to give up easily I searched the entire quote and was astounded to find the following:

Cpl. Mervin C. Wheeler was laid to rest in the Old Irwin Cemetery. There is now this permanent marker and his wife, who passed away in August of 2009 is buried next to him. The poem on the marker was written by (or quoted by) their daughter Linda. What a wonderful memorial to a father. There is always more to a story. Look beyond the pictures and the words.

Just a Thought Series ~ June 24, 1987

I'm following my creative muses into new territory ~ the paper arts of collage and altered books. Though I'm primarily self taught in all artistic pursuits, I've decided to take some classes, my first is next week. I've been collecting paper ephemera for years: calendars, cards, magazine and paper cutouts, small pieces of material, ribbon, etc. I was organizing some of the cards and looked on the back of this piece to find the following words.

"Happy Birthday Daddy, Wednesday is my day off and I will plant the climbing star jasmine in honor of your 77th birthday ~ plenty of southern exposure, spring water from Cazadero and Rod's magic compost. We're celebrating our 7th Fort Ross Volunteer Fire Department Picnic this weekend too ~ ever the newlyweds. Be well, be comfortable and stay curious. I love you to bits."

Twilight on Tamalpais ~ March 14, 1921

Once again I'm back to work on family genealogy. The thrill of the hunt, an archaeological dig and jigsaw puzzle all rolled into one. You never know what you'll find around the next corner. Sitting cross-legged on my studio floor I was looking through a small file cabinet for a specific photo. I got sidetracked by a manila folder filled with some ancient newspaper clippings. Among them was the following poem.

Twilight on Tamalpais

High upon a mountain, whose fingers touch the sky,

Whose pillared sides and giant trees saw men and nations die;

There, standing in the twilight, in Nature's fiery tone

I breathe the air of freedom and joy to be alone.

Below, there ride the straining ships ~ the greyhounds of the deep

Upon whose decks the silent crews their silent watches keep;

And in the middle distance, as greylike as a tomb,

As befits a dreary prison, is Alcatraz in the gloom.

Behold the distant ocean, the soundless, tossing sea

As silent as an ocean in any dream could be;

The stretches of the City, flung far across the Bay,

Whose myriad houses glow with light ~ the light that ends the day.

Alone to feel the silence, alone and all in peace,

The calm, still peace of even, as daily labors cease;

The passing breath of sunset, in lovely shades of red,

The peace and joy of living 'mid the splendors of the dead!

All I know is that it was written by Frank Livingstone, San Francisco, March 14, 1921. It was no doubt cut from the local newspaper by my grandmother or great grand mother.

Undated, photo/postcard of Mt. Tamalpais in same file

Anyone who has been up on the mountain will recognize the views and thoughts he describes. I could only smile at the similarity of my own journal entry written 91 years later (March 2012 blog: Just a Thought Series ~ December 10, 1970). It appears Mt. Tam holds magic for all who spend time in her embrace.

Just a Thought Series ~ May 12, 1970

All you have been and seen

And done and thought

Not You but I

Have seen and been and wrought

Pilgrim, Pilgrimage and Road

Was but Myself toward Myself

 And Your Arrival

But Myself

At my own Door

Come you lost Atoms

To your Centre draw

And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw

Rays that have wander'd

Into Darkness wide return

And back into your Sun subside

I knew these words weren't my own so I did a little early morning research. The lines are from a poem called A Face in the Mirror by 12th Century Persian poet Attar.

Serendipity
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My whole life has been a series of serendipitous connections and threads. In retrospect these words were a prescient prelude to my month long adventure of self discovery in the Northwest and Canada that began August 18th of that same year. At the time of this journal entry I had no inkling of what was ahead, but then again, perhaps I did ~ food for thought.

Musings from a Journal of Yore

In my 20's I used to keep journals.  Though life is an ongoing educational process those were the first years truly on my own; out of college, out of the nest, and away from home. A time for testing the waters and finding out about who I was. This morning I picked a journal up and opened it to no particular spot. Here is what I found:

January 10, 1971

Clear light, clear energy

A very seeing day

There is time and no time

Eternities and brief moments

Find no distinction

Soft awareness, no edges

Lightness

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Next to it was two quotes, the first from William Faulkner

"I believe man will not merely endure, he will prevail. He is immortal not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance..."

The second from Steve Miller

 

"You've got the power to open the door

You've got the power, it's been done before
Once you get there you're sure to see

You open your eyes and love will be easy"

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Different philosophers, different eras, but meaningful none the less. Accept who you are and revel in that, but never stop exploring your boundries and the possibilities of your life.
 

Thank you once again to the talented artisans of Etsy who help me illustrate my thoughts.

Journal Entry September 8, 1976

Wednesday evening

The silhouettes on the skyline

Capture my thoughts

There is something about

This color of blue

Christo's fence has begun

To breathe

Photo by Wolfgang Volz

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Running Fence was an art installation piece by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, completed on September 10, 1976. The builders removed it 14 days later, leaving no visible trace.

It consisted of a veiled fence 24.5 miles long extending across the hills of Sonoma and Marin counties in northern California. The 18-foot high fence was composed of 2,050 panels of recycled white nylon fabric hung from steel cables by means of 350,000 hooks. The cables were supported by 2,050 steel poles stuck into the ground and braced by steel guy wires anchored to the earth. The route of the fence began near Hwy 101 and crossed 14 roads and the private property of 59 ranchers to reach the Pacific near Bodega Bay. A majority of the work was done by volunteers.

I was working at the Bodega Marine Lab in Bodega Bay at the time. The fence actually bisected the small town of Valley Ford about 12 miles to the South. My boss allowed me to take the morning off so I could watch the fence panels being unfurled. It was truly an awe inspiring sight.

There is a wonderful online exhibition and story of how it all came about at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. The link is:

http://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/archive/2010/christo/

Conversations

I picked up one of my old journals this afternoon and decided I'd share whatever was on the page it opened to. The entry was from October 31, 1975. This is a song I wrote during one of those stages in a relationship when you're questioning why you aren't moving on. A friend put it to music and it was amazing to hear my words brought to life. Because of his sweet gesture I've harbored a lifelong fantasy of hearing it sung by Bonnie Raitt. But, hey a girl can dream!

Conversation

Baby do you ever disagree with what I'm sayin'

Are your thoughts different than mine

Do you know me so well that you're not tryin'

Or can we share more than just the time

I sometimes wonder what you're thinkin'

Questions I have never asked

Are there things being left unspoken

Should I speak or let it pass

Just don't start feeling guilty

For what it is you're thinkin'

If love can't listen to what's inside

Then love's only a ship that's sinkin'

Man is but a mirror

To what it is he feels

He can live his life in fantasy

Or share the thoughts that keep it real

Just a Thought Series ~ June 1975 Update

Strolling through the pages of some of my old journals I found an entry from a June, 1975. I had recently traded my old VW bus in on a Datsun 240Z and was ready for a road trip. Off to Aspen to spend a week with my old roommate Patti. She lived in a small cottage with a very large boulder in the living room. We spent every day hiking and exploring and then would head out in the evening to hear live music.

Maroon Bells at Sunrise (unknown photographer)

On the trail around the lake someone carved these words on an aspen tree. One wonders if they are still there?  I just found the photo I took on that hike. Perhaps it's time for another road trip to Aspen to see if the tree is still there along the trail.

"If you can't find it here, you can't find it" 

I met musician and songwriter Chris Cox one evening and we talked about his love of music and some of his feelings on the subject. His words stuck with me.

What is true

Is that when you get down

To why you are doing something

~

Not for the money

Or the ego satisfaction

Not for the expectations

Or the promises

~

But for the shear love

Of what you are doing

There exist no droughts

No dried up wells

Thirty five years later I look at a creative life well spent and still growing and understand exactly what he meant. It never ceases to amaze me how random and serendipitous conversations can be so prophetic.