August was a time of transition and good-by's for me. It was the end of summer. The osprey left the nest and readied to migrate. It was time to say good-by. Then my mother died at age 90. Another transition, another good-by. Ebb and flow. That is nature, that is life: the ocean, the seasons, families, the plant cycle, the monarch migration, the acorns that are ripening and will soon fall to become fodder or new oaks. And we can but accept. We can cry, we can rail against fate, but the ebb and flow is unassailable, beautiful in its own way, and must be accepted at any rate. And I realized that while I have always thought of, and taught about, cycles, there was another dimension. In some book, a picture book, I believe, there was a phrase, "Each time it was the same but different." And that is what I felt last month. Autumn comes every year, but we never know just what it will bring. This year, we experienced unprecedented heat then enjoyed a thunder and lightning show and a bit of rain. Who knows what will come next? The osprey nesting and migration will repeat each year, but every time it will be different, with different chicks and different circumstances. People die, and as inevitable as death is, each death is different We cannot predict, can only watch, listen, learn and accept. The ocean waves repeatedly wash ashore, but each wave is a bit different. Not so much a cycle as an ebb and flow, the pulsation of life and Nature. A giant heartbeat. So I dedicate this post to the giant heart of Nature. And in memory of my mother, who loved Nature and taught me to do the same.
-MW
| Ocean Waves Coast Pacific Water swells Crashing waves break high White billows race in. Slow, flow up sloped beach Then recede To begin Again Ebb and Flow The waves come in and go out, Ever repeating And yet- Each wave is different. Autumn comes and goes, Season after season And yet- Each Autumn is different. Osprey fly in and fly out, Year after year And yet- Each year’s family is different Ever-changing ebb and flow. Comfort in the pattern, Fear and hope in the different. We mourn Not those who go before But ourselves. We grieve our loss, Emptiness, The void We all fear. -MW  Thanks to Geonni for the photo. Rivet and Píccola concur: What is, let be What is not, Let go by. Do not cry, Ask not why. | The Old and the New The threadbare Judeo-Christian garb Of our Western World is rapidly tattering. A culture has almost run its course, And a void of chaos will soon follow. Cultured voids spawn cultural novelty: Seeds of new thought germinate, Yarn for tomorrow's cultural cloak May already be on the spinning wheel Cultures come and cultures go, Each has its day, then fades away! Ours it is to mourn the old And to hail the budding new. Let Be Let live what can and wills to live, Let die the tired and spent. Each creature has its span of time In tune with Nature's say. Let be what is and what was meant to be, And let life take its lotted course, no less! Dawn and Eve Dawn slowly asserts itself, A misty world emerges. Life blinks and stirs anew, Then, given to light, we toil. Crescendo The twilight shadows grow, The din of day retreats. All toil gives way to thought, Then, wrapped in night, we sleep. Decrescendo -JM Opa's Wisdoms Life is flow and death is ebb. Nurture the living and let die the spent. Oaks beget acorns and acorns beget oaks. All things have their day. Pine but do not whine. |
Farewell, Rivet
Evening
In Richmond
Three osprey
Soar high together
One drops a feather
Then peels off
To fly South
Alone
Evening
In Richmond
Three osprey
Soar high together
One drops a feather
Then peels off
To fly South
Alone
Born To Fly
Osprey are born to fly,
To soar in wild, blue sky.
They grow, they fledge, they mate,
Lay eggs, raise young, migrate.
And when they say good-by
They do not cry,
They do not wonder why.
But you and I-
We were born to laugh and cry.
We worry and we fret,
We doubt, hope, and regret.
And when we say good-by,
We sigh and cry,
And forever ask why.
So when the osprey fly,
Let them soar in wild sky.
If you must, then cry,
If you must, wave good-by.
But then let them fly free,
High in wild blue sky,
Away from you and me,
Free just to be.
-MW
Osprey are born to fly,
To soar in wild, blue sky.
They grow, they fledge, they mate,
Lay eggs, raise young, migrate.
And when they say good-by
They do not cry,
They do not wonder why.
But you and I-
We were born to laugh and cry.
We worry and we fret,
We doubt, hope, and regret.
And when we say good-by,
We sigh and cry,
And forever ask why.
So when the osprey fly,
Let them soar in wild sky.
If you must, then cry,
If you must, wave good-by.
But then let them fly free,
High in wild blue sky,
Away from you and me,
Free just to be.
-MW