By the fire

We were camping in the Redwoods National Park in early autumn. Night approached, we started or small bonfire in the fire pit. Gathering around the fire is something most of us love. Few activities give us a greatest feeling of togetherness. And although it may sound redundant, of warmth. Richard and I prepared the firewood, splitting the bigger pieces with an ax. Good ax handle. I’ve been using axes since I was about four. If you use an ax, you know how important is the handle. Axes and fire are much related. Su Dongpo, the Sung Dynasty poet, painter, calligrapher and genius wrote, living water should be cooked with living fire. My daughter and her mother were in care of cooking with the portable butane stove. Cooking with fire.

Once we had our bonfire on, I looked around a little. There were modern tents, some amazingly comfortable modern RVs, modern cars. Most of us had left our houses, to spend a few days camping in the middle of the ancient redwoods forest. We set our tents by the 500 year old trees. They were our homes for those days. The cell phones had no signal in the forest. All we could hear was the soft whispering sound of Smith river, the night insects, and the burning firewood. Our hearts were filled with an immense joy, a joy not easily matched. Not the sort of exhilarating joy that takes you up, and then comes down. It was the joy of quietness. Even. Without ups and downs. Instead of hangover, it leaves you an unstoppable awareness of wholeness, of having joined the dance of the universe.

I looked at Richard and said, “isn’t it funny?” — “What?” he asked. I said, “look around. There’s so many people camping here, and gathering round the fire. We work so much to get all that technology, our modern cars (although mine is a ’51 Land Rover), the sophisticated houses. Then, we leave all that behind, to find joy just by camping in a forest, and gathering round the fire. Just like thousands of years ago.” We looked at each other and laughed. Gathering round the fire is something most of us love the most.

Dog's luck?

What do you do when things don’t come out the way you expected? You have carefully planned your agenda with the utmost care. It may be a long weekend in a beach, and then comes a big storm. It bloody contradicts the weather forecast… but it is there. Not to talk about some business appointment, that is also unexpectedly frustrated. Blimey! Whom do you take it with? Or you may also think it’s destiny. Fate. Give it the name you like the most. There must be some invisible hand, invisibly moving invisible strings, that visibly frustrates the appointment. But, after all… what is that thing called fate?

A man once went to see a sage, to ask him what fate is. The sage looked deeply into the man’s eyes. After a while he said, assumptions.

— “Assumptions? How is that?” asked the surprised bloke.

— “Easy to say” replied the sage. “You assume something will go well. Then it doesn’t. You call it bad luck. You assume something will go wrong. Then it goes well. You call it good luck. You assume that certain things will happen or not. Your lack of intuition is so, that you don’t know what will happen. You assume that the future is unknown. When you are caught out, you call it Fate.”

There is certainly something beyond our control. Beyond the weather forecast, beyond the World Leaders. Sometimes it startles us, like the unforecasted storm. We have seen this many times in our lives. But the principle behind this is something deeper that simply calling it fate, destiny, predestination, manifest destiny, unmanifest fate or what the fate. It is some sort of alarm clock that tells us that we may have been putting our attention in the wrong direction. We may have been taking the results for the cause. This needs a stop. A stop to be taken several times a day, to stop living on assumptions. Like when we come to crossroads and stop to take a look at the road map. If we don’t, we may be barking up the wrong tree. Arf!

Between worlds

Hidden in the mist, Grizzly Peak and half the town cannot be seen. There is an atmosphere of poetic mystery. Like in the haiku:

In the dense mist
What is being shouted
Between hill and boat?

A mist creates an atmosphere of mystery. The Thuata de Dannan arrived to Ireland in a magic mist. It gives the idea of a gate to another world, like the Irish expression Idir Eathru, that means between worlds, but it’s more suggestive. Like a mist, that is neither solid nor liquid. It could be the beginning of a fairy tale. Quite early one morning, looking out of the window, the mountain is hidden in a mist. Later, some two hours before midday, the mist fades away and, lo and behold! There is no mountain, but the vast winter ocean.

How would you feel if that would actually happen? What emotions would arise in your heart? Fear? Amazement? Astonishment? The joy of adventure? Would you ask your cat, and then wonder what he meant by meoooow? No matter what emotions, they would be intense: before you, the impossible has become possible. When we are startled, our emotions become intense. It feels as if we don’t have room in our heart-mind for what startles us. We are too attached to forms. Our conditioning leads us to put things-events into boxes. These boxes don’t necessarily match reality, they are just useful to keep some things going. Sometimes, however, we take the boxes for reality. It is similar to taking the weight for the thing weighted.

Thoughts and emotions are closely related. Emotions generate thoughts. Thoughts generate emotions. The power of literature is that it takes us to emotional states through our thoughts. Poetry can do it with a few words, like waves from a pebble thrown in a lake. Some startling thoughts and emotions makes us uneasy because we don’t have a box for them. Maybe we have one, but not large enough. We use a box instead of the mind. Boxes are limited. The mind is not. The mind is like empty space. It contains our planet, the sun, the moon, the solar system, the milky way galaxy and innumerable galaxies more. Such is the nature of the mind. Thoughts and emotions arise in the mind. Then, fade away. Another one comes and fades away… in the mind. Like small waves.

Instead of boxes, we can remain in a relaxed awareness of the mind, the box as limitless as empty space. There we have room for mountain and ocean. Then, if the fairy tale comes true… let’s share a cup of tea on the beach!

Halloween — Samhain

Halloween was cloudy short after sunrise. One could still wonder about this afternoon's parade. There were dark clouds yesterday, and, very thin raindrops falling. It rained during the night, was still cloudy after dawn... and the sky cleared up later. The parade is not in risk of being one in the rain. With so many Irish descendants here, one may well believe that some of the Siddhe came along with them in the ships. For those who don't know it (if there are still any), Halloween is, actually, Samhain, a Celtic celebration. Some say it's the Celtic New Year, some say it's not. Whatever it be, it is certainly a Celtic celebration, that has a lot to do with the Siddhe, the people of the Otherworld.

Although many associate the Gentry or the wee folk with the Leprechauns, actually, the Siddhe are not only these shoemakers. Some of them look exactly like us, the ordinary humans. Anyone who remembers the words of the traditional Irish song The Star of the County Down, will notice that the lad takes the beautiful colleen (girl in Gaelige) for one of the fairies, the Siddhe. The Siddhe are not a mere superstition. Nobel laureate William Butler Yeats, the great Irish Bard wrote a book compiling stories about them. He collected actual experiences of real people, who had close encounters with the gentry. And Dr. W.Y. Evans Wents' first book was, precisely, The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. He did it, in part, out of respect for his ancestors, for his roots. Many have either forgotten, or worst, lost their roots. It is rather sad. Think what happens to a wonderful tree if it looses his roots (his, not its). The same happens to us. We may remain as a wonderful tree... but a dry one. We see many of them daily.

Hopefully we'll have a great day today. Here in Ashland Oregon there will be a parade in Main Street. Lot's of fun to all of us, trick and treating... we should have good music and dancing and eating too. After all, so many consider this the Celtic New Year, and, astronomically, it makes sense. For all of us who have Celtic roots, whether Irish, Scottish, Galician or otherwise... let us not forget our ancestors. This is the time of the year to celebrate with them. Eat and drink and dance and have fun with them. As the song goes, Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain / For we may and might never all meet here again. Happy Halloween... and enjoy my window!!!

Warm at Home

Our mind works in curious ways. Sometimes I have a certain feeling of loneliness. I love Ashland. From the window of my one room (a studio apartment) I see Grizzly Peak, a mountain I love. But even so, sometimes… as I just said. Now and then too, memories come to me, of other places I also love. The north side quarter of Gesell, a small town on the South Atlantic is one of them. 206th street, between 304 and 305, for instance. The winding street, with the ancient pines and the cozy houses. That place always gives me a wonderful warm feeling. I was lucky enough to have lived only a few blocks from there on and off.

There is some music too, that especially reaches the deepest of my heart. Gerry Mulligan and Bill Evans are very much bound to good moments in my life. This morning I downloaded Gerry Mulligan’s Night Lights, as I don’t have it with me at present. So, a while ago, after having prepared a certain text for printing, I played Night Lights. I remembered, instantly, with details, the moment when I found the CD, many years ago. We had gone out for dinner with my mother and daughter. Going back home, we stopped at a record store. The jazz CDs were on the right side, past the middle of the shop. Fumbling, I found Night Lights. I was quite surprised of having found an “album” by Gerry Mulligan I had never heard of. Bought it immediately. Played it immediately as soon as we made it home. I loved the atmosphere from the first few bars, and all along the themes.

Since then, I’ve played Night Lights, every time I want a music that brings that quiet, happy atmosphere, along with some romanticism too. There is romanticism in Gerry Mulligan’s music. Happiness, lyricism and romanticism. Those are things I share with Gerry Mulligan, even after he’s gone. When I listen to this album, I feel pleasantly at home, no matter where I am. Our mind works in curious ways.

Autumn emotions

Autumn colors are really impressive in Ashland Oregon. Deep greens, golden and bronze, yellow ochre, deep red, bright yellow. Add the background of blue skies and Grizzly Peak, and this makes the spirit and the heart expand as widely as the sky itself. Such a day was yesterday. And fairly warm for this time of the year also.

After doing a couple of things downtown, I decided to have a rest and some tea at a bookstore’s coffee house. I was enjoying my Toasted Rice Green in the patio, and a girl and a guy came in. Either nineteen or very early twenties both of them. She had an attractive face. Medium height, dark brown hair to her shoulders, wearing a mini-skirted gray dress and black tights. Walked right to a table, carrying her latte. Her companion was much taller, maybe more than six feet, blonde mane, carrying nothing. Somewhat later the chap of the coffee house brought him something that looked like a latte with a lot of whipped cream on top. Impressive and enticing. I kept enjoying my toasted rice green.

Finally relaxed from the previous rush, I started by contemplating and the plants around me. Then, my attention was taken to the young couple. They were happily having their concoctions, and talking. Talking more happily than they were enjoying their concoctions. There was something like a wave of bliss flowing from and into each other. I couldn’t —and didn’t wanted to— hear what they said. In fact, it did not matter at all. Not even body language mattered. What was happening was beyond words, beyond physical gestures. Something special radiated from their eyes, and from their hearts.

It then became more than clear to me in my own heart. Heart-mind. The real communication is beyond speech and silence. It is something that is transmitted from heart to heart in a very subtle way. That is what words or gestures really carry. The feeling and the motivation. He could have been saying your latte seems really good. And she may have replied yes, and have you seen that weird guy sitting there having tea? But the message that both of them sent and received was, beyond doubts, I like you so much! I’m so happy to be here with you!

What is really important, goes beyond our words and actions. It is emotion and motivation. The emotional stream is the energy, and the motivation the quality of that energy. The higher the pitch of the emotion, and the purest the motivation, is what makes the world around us. So, we rather let our heart and spirit expand, like when watching the wonderful colors of autumn.