Category Archives: Great Work

The TLF Maintains Its Presence

Winter                                                             Moon of the Winter Solstice

On the way back from buying groceries I encountered the TLF again.  The TLF long time readers of this blog might recall is the Turkey Liberation Front.  I gave this rafter or gang (look it up) their name when I encountered their predecessor several years ago returning from the same store with additional butter for the Thanksgiving dinner then underway.  That first rafter was smaller, less than 10, but this one had perhaps 18-20, mostly adults, but a few young adults.  Their feathers were a rich dark brown, lustrous.

(Great Northern Sky)

Round Lake gathers enthusiasts of various sorts, some with more common sense than others.  The ice fishermen are staid, quiet types.  Ice houses or small tents covering their holes, they sit still, waiting for something to happen.

The snowmobiles you would expect though there’s been fewer of them than normal this year.

This year has drawn several ATV drivers and, to my surprise, one dirt biker.  The first I’ve seen though I know it’s done.  I heard the noise, the steady drone of a small engine, looked out over the lake expecting to see a snowmobile when what to my wondering eyes should appear but some kid on a motor bike riding in circles, defying the friction defeating ice with the occasional part sideways skid.  Nobody’s out there with their truck or car this year.  Wise.

(I picked this up from a national weather website.  But they’re using our DNR’s illustrations.)

Last week I read in the newspaper the following advice for the cold weather over New Years.  Keep your gas tank half full.  Pack winter boots and warm coats.  Call ahead and let people know when you plan to arrive.  That sort of thing.  We’ve also had the illustration showing what thickness of ice can bear what kind of weight.

Minnesotans take this kind of thing for granted, part of the season.  But imagine you were a visitor here.  Reading this stuff.  With a rental car.  No wonder people don’t move here in droves in spite of the great cultural and political life.

 

 

 

OMG

Samhain                                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

Through a service I get posts from the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).  This one came through and the irony just knocked my socks off.

“This month marks the 24th anniversary of the designation by Congress of the San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area. The San Pedro River is one of the last free-flowing rivers in the southwestern United States. It runs through the Chihuahuan Desert and the Sonoran Desert in southeastern Arizona.”

An Important Message for a Season of Indulgence

Samhain                                                               Thanksgiving Moon

source

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles roll

ed into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed..

‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn.

Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

Off Mission

Fall                                                                  New (Fallowturn) Moon

Was gonna plant lilies and iris but got stuck on the computers, shifting stuff around, getting a new computer setup, then into writing my essay for the mythology class.  Discovered after creating a 500 word piece that I’d read the instructions wrong, 250-350 words.  Condensing is another matter.  Will take some time tomorrow.

Then I went into the Sierra Club for the Legislative Awards.  Each year we give awards to our champions, up to 4, in the last session.  This year we gave them to Frank Hornstein, Alice Hausman and Bill Hiltey. Hiltey, who retired this year, gave a downbeat assessment of our odds in the future unless “reasonable” people get elected.  He sighted corporate control of legislators and the anti-science attitudes as difficult barriers to advances in environmental legislation.  The environment is, he said, and I believe, too, collateral damage of the economic and political culture we now have.

Cutting the cable news:  right now Kate and I are watching the Poirot series on Netflix.  There are 55 episodes and we can go through them at our own pace.  Never regretted the decision to bounce Comcast TV.  Well, with one exception.  Sometimes the picture quality suffers because of non-HD transmissions.  That’s too bad when we have a good HD setup.

Fall                                                                   New (Fallowturn) Moon

Ordered my felling-axe.  A new form of aerobic exercise.  That plus my bike will give me variety in those workouts.  If we have some snow this winter, I can take up snowshoeing again.  Working out requires a change up every once in a while.  Your body gets used to the same exercises and the changes keep interest from flagging, too.

(source)

What He Said

Fall                                                                Harvest Moon

Hamatreya [excerpt]

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

EARTH-SONG

 

“Mine and yours;
Mine, not yours.
Earth endures;
Stars abide–
Shine down in the old sea;
Old are the shores;
But where are old men?
I who have seen much,
Such have I never seen.

“The lawyer’s ded
Ran sure,
In tail,
To them, and to their heirs
Who shall succeed,
Without fail,
Forevermore.

“Here is the land,
Shaggy with wood,
With its old valley,
Mound and flood.
But the heritors?
Fled like the flood’s foam.
The lawyer, and the laws,
And the kingdom,
Clean swept herefrom.

 

“They called me theirs,
Who so controlled me;
Yet every one
Wished to stay, and is gone,
How am I theirs,
If they cannot hold me,
But I hold them?”

Ora et Labora

Fall                                                               Autumn Moon

Frost last night, but no freeze.  Either way, not too damaging for us.  Our harvest of above ground bearing vegetables and fruits is almost over.  Left are root crops like leeks and carrots, a few onions, some beets and a late crop of kale and chard.  All of these are frost hardy, even freeze hardy.

I have another leek dish to make, a leek gratin.  Will have several leeks left after that so I may have to return to the chicken pot pies or leek and potato soup.  Both are good.

All in all a good gardening year except for the failure of my bee management plan and the theft of our honeycrisp crop by those #$!%XXX squirrels.  Looks like I pulled out a save with the bees by going with over wintering.  Just no honey this year.  Next year.  Good thing Artemis honey is not a for profit business.

Ruth Hayden commented on our gardening and bees as not about poverty, but “…about creativity.”  In the broadest sense, yes.  In the particular though Kate enjoys the Iowa farm mom aspect of putting food by:  drying, canning, freezing, storing.  Both of us enjoy and I find essential the spiritual aspect of gardening, the close connection to the soil, to the source of our food, to the seasons, to the vagaries of weather and the changing of climate.

You might say our garden is our church, or, better really, our meditation and our sutra, our bible.  Ora et labora.  Work and prayer is the Benedictine motto.  I like it too.  Work as prayer, especially work with plants.

 

Are You Trying To Start a Movement?

Lugnasa                                                        Garlic Planting Moon
Presented Homecoming:  Faith of a Pagan at Groveland UU this morning.  They’ve honored me by having me come regularly for over 20 years.  Fewer and fewer times as I’ve moved away from the ministry, but still, each year, at least once, often twice.

There’s something about an immediate audience that makes writing fresher, harder, cleaner.  During the discussion after the presentation I found myself explaining my reimagining faith project and the more I said, the more enthused I became.  Strange, I know, but that’s what happened.  Partly I could see connections, heads nodding.  This was taking root as an idea.

“Are you trying to start a movement?” one long time Grovelander asked.

Made me stop and think.  No, I’m not.  But I’m trying to get clear enough to write down my thoughts, make them into a book, because I feel  this reimagined faith needs to be part of everyone’s inner tool kit.  I don’t mean it needs to replace your Buddhism or Christianity or Judaism or Sikhism.  It can be an adjunct, a both/and.  Or, like me, it can be whole deal.

An essential awareness of and responsiveness to the world in which we live, the planet on which we depend has too often been lost, especially in developed countries.   Now, too, developing countries like the BRIK nations.  Unfortunately, those are the very spots where this kind of earth mindfulness is most needed.  These countries are the ones that make decisions large and small that effect the future of human life on this planet.

Another Grovelander, a young Macalester student, challenged my pushing off against Christianity as an example of a metaphysic that distances us from the world.  She was right.  This message needs to penetrate especially religious and economic ideologies, be attractive rather than repulsive.  Yet still strong enough to bite.  Not an easy task.

But, hey?  If it was easy, someone would have already done it.

(illustration above:  The Green Knight Gesso tells the tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the Green Knight’s perspective. The old ways are parting for the new, yet in the ancient there is wisdom to learn and to be retained. The Green Knight is symbolic of ancient wisdom.)

The Exurbs post 1

Lugnasa                                                       Garlic Planting Moon

When we turn north off of our street, 153rd Ave. NW, onto Round Lake Boulevard, we pass a small white house with cheap siding and usually a car or two parked in the yard and after it comes Field’s Truck Farm.

Our house sits on a peninsula of sand that once jutted out into a lake that extended from about Coon Creek Boulevard, a mile or so south of us, to county road 18, a mile or so north of us.  That lake is now a vast peat bog except for what was, I imagine, a deeper end, separated from what was the main body of water at this time by Round Lake Boulevard, and now far along in the eutrophication process itself, Round Lake.

Field’s grows corn, radishes, potatoes, tomatoes, onions and grass on the former lake bed.  It sits about 2 feet to 3 feet lower than the rest of the land around it and lower still when compared to the height of our land.  Just beyond the main sheds and buildings, including temporary housing for migrant workers, sit row after row of wood sided trucks, old tractors, some farm implements.  As we proceed north on Round Lake various plots of the old lake bed hold radishes and grass, a commodity for which Anoka County is the chief source in the state.

A right, or eastward, turn on county road 18 goes along the northern perimeter of Field’s farm taking us to Hanson Boulevard, where we turn north once again.  On three sides of the intersection here are large plots of wetland, covered mostly in bullrushes, a favorite habitat of the Baltimore Oriole.  North on Hanson finds us traveling along fields and forest, a countryside scene familiar to anyone who knows Minnesota’s northern region.  We are, in fact, the southern, or terminal end, of the great Boreal forest that extends north from here to the tundra in Canada.

The further north we go the more wetlands, forest and lakes.  Great blue herons float across the highway from one hunting ground to another.  If it were evening, we would have to be on the watch for deer and, of late, wild turkeys.

 

 

Lugnasa                                               Hiroshima Moon

 

The Spring Dumbledor

An August Midnight
by Thomas Hardy

I

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter—winged, horned, and spined—
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands…

II

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
—My guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.