Putting the key into the ignition, I realize it has been seven days since I’ve driven. On State Route 270 the only car in sight is passing, we nod and share a wave. Arriving in town I take a walk on Main Street. It’s hard to believe it is a weekday lunch hour. I walk by two people and keeping our distance we nod and share a smile. I pause gazing up and down the street. Across the way there is the sudden sound of a door closing. The proprietor engages the lock.
Twist of a key ring Echoes up and down the street… A choir of bells
The person in the photograph featured is Logan, a local university student. On Fridays, he stands on the corner of 3rd and Washington Street, bringing an awareness to drivers and walkers passing by about climate change. He has been doing this since he organized our local Climate March on April 12, 2019, or possibly longer.
Another person who invested time in increasing awareness who I met recently is Peter. He is author of the book ‘Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty‘. Peter drove the entire length of the Columbia River, from the headwaters at Canal Flat Canada to the Pacific Ocean at Ilwaco, Washington. The book is a photographic document alongside essays of those he met along the way. Here are two quotes that touched me:
“In the summer some 80 years ago, my grandfather went to the shore near the Windemere to greet the return of the salmon. Days went by, then weeks, maybe a month. No fish. What is wrong? My grandfather wondered if the creator was angry for some reason. We did not know about the building of the grand Coulee Dam that stopped our salmon from coming home. We are still waiting.” -Alfred Joseph, Chief of Akisq’nuk First Nation.
Peter Pochocki Marbach Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty (Brown Printing Portland, Oregon, copyright Peter Marbach 2019), 26
“My generation will be some of the last people to know glaciers on the mountain peaks. We will be some of the last to love many oceanside places. Some of the last to remember summers not consumed by wildfire and choked by smoke. Some of the first to get used to the term ‘climate refugee’. My generation will be one of the last to have lived in a time before this loss became – to some degree – inevitable” -Graeme Lee Rolands
Peter Pochocki Marbach Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty (Brown Printing Portland, Oregon, copyright Peter Marbach 2019), 45
Peter brought to me an awareness of how our actions today affect not only people here now, but also our future generations. He also brings to our attention that the U.S. State Department and Global Affairs Canada are engaged in talks that are aimed at updating the Columbia River Treaty. He is getting the message out that there is now an opportunity to make our voice heard for the people who depend on the salmon runs and the river.
I am grateful for Logan’s and Peter’s actions. They serve as a reminder to stop and pay attention every day, to not give up and continue to do my part, and to realize the effect of each action I take on our earth and the community that depends on it.
Winter air frozen sleeping berries sun fading morning moon rises
Last image of the light in dark investigation:
Snow-Mountain blankets blossoms awaken moon fades morning winter sun
As spring approaches morning walks have given way to light from dark. This is the opposite of when I started this investigation last fall when the morning gave way to dark from light. I invite you to view the gallery of images of the journey between here:
There has been a lot going on this week at work, in the local community, and in our worldly ways that have left me feeling drained and tired. It is in these times I usually push back only to end up getting lost in all of the noise.
I recently read a blog post on silence where I found myself thinking, as I have in the past, that I can maintain a silence through all this and keep going. But I end up finding the energy misused and lost along with any possibilities.
But reading on about silence in the post, there was a recognition that when practicing, taking time to stop, take care, and rest, the attachment loosens. In taking this time to become unattached, there is an acceptance of things that begin to blur the lines of separation between them.
When rested and clear that energy becomes part of us, with no separation while participating at work, in the community, and the world, in a compassionate space of possibility. Silently.
Snow moon reflecting Rushing river dewdrops cross Stone bridge of grasses
Do you ever feel like you’re walking along, the is air calm and warm, and then a word, a sound, changes everything? The breeze becomes cold flowing from the core, rippling to the surface.
This kind of energy has been flowing through me on and off the last few days as I’ve considered some changes. What does one do with this energy?
Walking on, when I got to the light I stopped. I looked back at the person I barely noticed passing. Did I say, “Good morning?”
The light changed and I walked on still shivering. Passing another person I said, “Good morning.” They replied with a kind smile. I heard them say to another behind me, “Good morning.”
This photograph is part of the investigation I am currently exploring titled “In lightness and darkness.” It began when the sun started showing up much after my morning walk and drive to work. Instead of putting the camera away because of the darkness, I brought it with me to investigate what this time of day had to offer.
The experience I had taking this picture was different than most of the other photos I’ve taken so far in this investigation. Along with a beautiful experience, I found myself having thoughts of judgement: “Who in their right mind would leave a couch out here!” “It looks terrible! What an eyesore!” And yet, at the same time, the experience had a beauty of its own.
Could I have met this water swollen couch on the corner as it was, without judgement, in the same way I would meet a beautiful deer walking down the street?
Does the camera judge when the shutter is activated? Or does it become part of the action and receive the light of the moment?
These are questions I will keep in mind on my walks light and dark.
Rising weathered bones below high cliff water trickles springing winter bud
A friend shared a book he was reading titled “Haiku” and I found this:
*”Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, grass grows of itself”
On the internet I found that haiku attributed to Matsu Bashio along with a commentary on doing nothing, just to be. However, I find the winds are not always still and to ‘just be’ not so easy.
I had just finished shoveling snow and raking the roof when I noticed the potted bamboo under the weight of the snow sitting quietly. The snow on the bamboo sitting quietly. And the barrel and dirt sitting quietly. It was then it occurred to me that the winds will always blow and that the practice is to sit quietly and ‘just be’ within them.
Right after I took this photograph, I pondered about changing the title to “Sitting quietly”.
