October 6, 2015 - Finite Energy

For all practical purposes, the sun has an infinite amount of energy.  Each day, however, we have a finite amount of energy to spend, and once it’s spent, it’s spent.  We can’t ever get it back.  So it’s important to know how and where we are spending our energy in order to make the most of what we are given.

I believe that human energy is a powerful thing--much more powerful than most people know.  I mean this in the literal sense:  The human battery pack is very potent.  However, it has its limits.  Once we’ve reached the limit, we have to recharge, which takes place at night when we sleep.  A good portion of that recharging depends on what we have eaten.  Our bodies transform the energy from our food into energy that we can use.  It is at our disposal to freely use as we see fit.

The infinite energy of the sun.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of energy siphons out there that are always on the look out for more human energy.  Some of the normal ones are simply work in its various forms.  We spend energy doing our work to accomplish tasks that we (hopefully) want to accomplish.  This is a more or less fair exchange.  But there is another way that our energy can be siphoned from us, and for all practical purposes, this way is invisible.  As such, we often do not notice it.  We only feel its effects afterward and are often baffled by our exhaustion.

And it’s so subtle and insidious, too.  Often it comes in the guise of friendship and caring.  I’m talking about an emotional siphon here.  Make no mistake about it:  The emotions provide a direct conduit to our energy source.  Becoming emotional causes us to directly engage our power, and once engaged, if we are not paying attention, it can be siphoned.  It’s a little easier to see it with negative emotions, such as anger, but it is not so easy to see it with positive emotions, such as sympathy.

How many times have you felt perfectly fine and gone on to a social network or a “news” outlet only to find yourself feeling agitated, angry, or just plain exhausted in a very short time?  Here’s an example:  You watch one of those “feel good” videos about someone who learned a lesson the hard way and lost a loved one, but at least now he realizes what he had.  You become very emotional.  You can’t help it.  It’s a good story, it’s well told, and you start to cry.  Deep inside you start to wonder about the things and the people that you have lost in the past, about your own hard lessons, about what you could have done, about what you should have done.  And sure enough, you start to feel tired.

Then you go on to a news article about a criminal who finally got caught and is being sent to jail.  You are outraged when you hear of his crimes!  You are horrified, but you can’t seem to stop reading or listening to the video.  You pronounce judgment on him.  You cry for the victims and their families.  You voice your opinion in the comments.  Most importantly, your fear level goes through the roof as you think about such horrible crimes being done to you.  You may even start to think of ways you can change your own surroundings so you won’t fall victim to such crimes.  And sure enough, you start to feel even more tired.

And on and on it goes.  What you might not have noticed in the posts and the videos and the chats is the background.  Often this background is pushing a certain lifestyle or an idea or a belief.  Sometimes it’s not a visible background but a reinforcement of certain societal rules.  It could even be a simple “herd” mentality.  And your emotions are feeding it.  You are directly being targeted, and the marksman has hit the bullseye.

So what’s going on here?  What do I mean?  I am not suggesting that you become a stoic and never display or experience your feelings again.  But I am suggesting that you be careful how you engage your energy and where you spend it.  If an advertiser or a builder of social structure can engage your emotions and rile you up, he has you.  He can then use those emotions for many things.  He can get you to buy something or donate money to something.  He can get you to uphold unwritten and unspoken social constructs (some of which you may not even be conscious of).  He can use your energy and add it to the energy of all the other people he has siphoned, and with that he can get even more victims onboard.  He can use the energy to lead society in any direction he wants.

The past cannot be changed, and the future is just a concept.  All we have is the present, and each day we have a certain amount of energy to spend on our present lives.  The more of it we unwittingly give to someone else or to a corporation or to a cause, the less we have to construct our present lives and thereby improve our future possibilities.  If we are being drained by certain social conventions, certain morals, certain events that are deliberately constructed to display only the viewpoint of the siphoner, we have no energy left for ourselves and our own life.

Again, I am not suggesting that you become a stoic.  Sometimes becoming emotional is necessary.  However, there are always at least two sides to a story, and often more than that.  There are always alternative views and ideas, but if we are constantly being steered via our emotions into a direction that someone else wants for us, then we never get to see the other side of the story.

So be careful about how you spend your energy.  Don’t just give it away.  Be discerning.  If you see that energy drain coming your way, head it off at the pass.  Turn it off, switch it off, close it down, shut it out.  Then go and do something worthwhile for yourself.

October 5, 2015 - Turkey Mushroom

The turkey mushroom (Trametes versicolor) is not edible, at least not by humans, but it is certainly pretty.  It sort of reminds you of a turkey proudly displaying his feathers, hence the name.  While it may not be edible, some herbalists prescribe this very hard and leathery mushroom as an “anti-cancer” treatment.  The American Cancer Society says there’s no evidence to support that claim, but they do acknowledge that the turkey mushroom contains PSK (polysaccharide-K), which they do acknowledge has anti-cancer properties.

The turkey mushroom (Trametes versicolor).

A simple Google search will show you the many studies out there on PSK and how it can reduce some cancers and the chance of recurrence.  You’ll also find that the turkey mushroom is rich in beta-glucans, which are known for their ability to enhance and activate the immune system.  They also help the body to maintain an ideal cholesterol level.  You may have heard of the famous beta-glucans in oats, the “heart friendly” cereal.

I see them everywhere when I walk through the woods.  I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that everything we need--everything!--is out there in nature somewhere, waiting for us to notice it.  I am also convinced that we are led to the things we need if we walk with an open mind and are willing to learn.  So, like the Reishi mushrooms I took last July and tinctured, I will also take some of these turkey mushrooms and tincture them as well.  I’d be a fool to turn away a gift.

[This article is for informational purposes only and is not intended as culinary advice.  If you are not intimately familiar with mushrooms, err on the side of caution and do not collect or eat them.  This article is also not intended to diagnose, treat, or cure any ailment.  If you need medical advice, seek a physician.]

October 4, 2015 - A Message

The tree ears go up and up in a spiral pattern, reaching for the heavens and eavesdropping on the angels.  I wait patiently below for a secret message, while they take their time in relaying the words from above.  Surely today they will confer heavenly wisdom.  So I sit and rest against the trunk and drink some water and wait.  And I grow sleepy, sitting in the woods and waiting.  I close my eyes for just a moment.

Waiting for the message.

That’s when the woods come alive.  They have forgotten I am here.  I have been very quiet for a long time, not moving, not talking.  My eyes are closed, but I can feel the squirrels run by so close to my feet, grabbing acorns and stuffing them in their hidden caches.  The deer come by, walking boldly because they think they are alone.  They follow their usual path, stopping to nibble on choice greenery, even though they are quite fat now.  The rut will be upon them in a few weeks, and the anxious anticipation is palpable.  The birds, the porcupines, the skunks, and all the others hurry by on their way to November.

The air is one of a pace that has been quickened, food being stored, caches being checked and rechecked.  There is so much to do now, and the message is to hurry back to my own home now!  Don’t you know November is on its way?  Haven’t you heard?  There’s no time to tarry now, no time for naps!  The simple days of summer are over.

Waking from having nodded off, surely for just one second, I am disappointed that I have received no message from the tree ears.  Heaven has snubbed me, but suddenly it seems very unimportant because I have this terrible urge to run home and store nuts while I still can.  After all, November is on its way.

October 3, 2015 - I'm Almost Gone

I’m almost gone now.  Height and stately beauty left decades ago; I can’t remember how many now, but it’s not important.  I’m not sure why it ever was.  The birds of prey have long since left their perches within my boughs.  The frogs and bats and squirrels have left for a better home, too, and rightly so.  Even most of the insects have finished with me.  For a long time I stood as a grim reminder to others of what’s to come, but that’s gone now, too.

Almost not here.

I watch the world as it watches me dissolve.  Usually it is too busy, though, so I just enjoy the process of un-becoming.  I don’t miss the leaves that were my hair because this beautiful moss grows upon me now.  My insides have softened and poured out, and the mushrooms have borrowed those parts.  In return, they dance for me in the moonlight, their little umbrellas twirling around and around me.  Those roots I sent so deeply within the Earth a long time ago have gone back from whence they came.  I can’t remember why I thought they were so important back then, but I wish them well in their journey.

I have almost completed myself.  I am at the best part.  A few more rains and snows and seasons, and I will finish the crumbling.  Then the last of me will drift off along the forest floor and into the winds, and I will finally be free.

October 2, 2015 - Trust In The End

The last couple of days have been in the 40s temperature-wise, which I think is just perfect.  Here up on Bradbury Mountain, the red barn welcomes in the fall.  They’ll have pumpkins and gourds and jams for sale there, and many others things to tempt as well.  All around the area now, the trees are really starting to change.  We have a bit to go yet before we reach the peak, and with the bad weather coming, I just hope all the leaves won’t be blown off before they do their final show.  I do so enjoy a good finale.

Marching toward the end.

This is the time of year I like best.  The decaying leaves (as odd as it sounds) perfume the air deliciously.  I wonder why that is.  Most people I know love the smell of the leaves decaying.  If we think about it logically, it means they have died and are decomposing.  So why do we love it so much?  Perhaps our senses are not as fooled by this “death” as our feeble minds are.  We have been conditioned to think of the end as being such a terrible thing, and while I’d like to wait as long as possible before I reach my own, it’s somehow oddly comforting to know that my eyes and ears and nose are delighted with the end that is going on all around me.

It’s a common theme in my writing--the idea that death is just a doorway, that’s it’s just another phase, and that rebirth is always just around the corner.  There are many cultures, philosophies, and religions that have dealt with this issue in an attempt to bring ease and relief to followers.  In the end, we all seem to agree that somehow there is a new beginning somewhere.  I don’t trifle myself with the particulars of this belief or that.  It is enough for me to simply watch the trees and the animals and trust in the whispered promises they have given me.

October 1, 2015 - The Immortal Tree

The yellow and orange were there all along, but they were invisible to us.  The green color produced by the chlorophyll through photosynthesis was hiding the other colors from our eyes.  But they were there.  They were waiting to be noticed.

The immortal tree.

Then the days got shorter, and the tree sensed that it was time.  The photosynthesis stopped because of the change in light.  The chlorophyll disappeared, and the yellow and orange that were hidden for so very long came screaming out.  That’s when we say, “The leaves are starting to turn.”  And turn, they do.  Then any glucose that was left in the leaves is turned into a brilliant red (and sometimes even purple!) color by the sun and the cooler night temperatures.

Suddenly the tree is awash in brilliant red, yellow, and orange, most of which was there all along.  It makes you wonder how many other things in nature are hiding from us.  How many other things could be revealed if only we could “see” the proper way or take a small veil away?

Finally, comes the brown color.  That is from any wastes left within the leaves.  The leaves then die, having fed the tree through photosynthesis all summer long.  The tree will go to sleep now and survive the winter on its hoarded supply of energy.  If no one rakes them up, the leaves will decompose and place the very minerals the tree favors most right back into the soil all around it.  In future years, the roots will pull these very same minerals right back into the tree again in a never ending cycle.  Clearly, trees are immortal.

September 30, 2015 - Oh, The Rain!

It isn’t just water.  It’s rain, and that’s different.  Water is the stuff inside of a stream or a lake or an ocean.  Water is the stuff that comes out of a pump or out of a tap when we turn it on.  But this stuff--the stuff that comes down from the heavens--it isn’t just water.  This is rain.

And rain hides the sun.  It blots the sun out of the sky and makes it seem as though it never existed.  It was just a dream you had.  It wasn’t real because there is no sun.  There’s only rain.  It brings the gray and usually the cold as well.  It bites at your skin, and the wind creates tiny shivers in your body.  Then you hunch your shoulders and bow your head and think of the dream.

It isn't just water.  It's rain.

The rain lashes at your head and your face.  It blinds your eyes and drenches your body.  No matter how much rain gear you have, a torrential downpour will soak you as if you had jumped into a river.  The wind finds every seam and closure on your clothes, and it drives the rain and cold inside.  Deep, frozen hands reach inside and say, “Mine!”  And you hunch and shiver and think of the dream.

Finally the seams will give way, and the rain seeps into your mind.  Your thoughts become damp at first and then completely wet.  The gray tendrils reach inside and cover every memory with a veil.  The dream stays behind the veil, and you can only see shadows of it moving now and then beyond the curtain.  The abyss is deep.  No one crosses through and comes back alive, so you must wait for the rain to abate.

Creep back, then, to your house and hide yourself from the rain.  We know how to weather the storm.  Light a candle even if you flick every light in the house on.  Light a candle and keep it in your line of vision.  The glow is subtle at first, but it will grow.  The old dream is stirring inside of you, and the candle warms and coaxes it out again.  And now you are warm once more because like attracts like.  The dream of the sun returns full force, and nothing can blot it out.  You are still you.

Outside the rain continues, but now it is just water.  The world is washed clean once again, and everything will be renewed.  The grayness and the cold and the shivering have slipped away, locked beyond impenetrable windows.  They must have been a dream.  You won’t think of them again.  Until you do.

September 29, 2015 - An Old Boulder

We are told that when the glaciers crashed through Maine, they raked and dragged and smashed the landscape, flattening some hills and mountains and creating others.  Many areas in the southwest were not subjected to this extreme demolition, and so they have kept their canyons and peaks.  People from the southwest are often shocked when they see the severe effects of the ice on the land in Maine, even though many thousands of years have passed.

The rabbit hole.

Surrounded by oaks is a large flattened boulder from the last glacial period.  That’s what I’m told.  There appears to be an entrance at the bottom right to a subterranean world.  That’s what I surmise.  That’s what my eyes see.  I do not see a glacial formation.  I see an entrance.  How far down does the rabbit hole go?  Judging by the moss growing on the boulder, it has been there for quite some time.

The thing about entrances is that they’re also exits.  If something can go down or in, then something can also come up or out.  This is a less-traveled part of the woods, and the thick cluster of oaks adds to the mystique.  This is a place where many things go in and come out.  If I were to fall asleep against an old oak, would I wake up in 100 years like Rip Van Winkle?  Looking at this boulder, it seems very possible to me.

It’s funny how fairy tales are “cute” when read in a civilized setting, but when out in the woods, they don’t seem nearly as cute anymore.  They seem downright possible.  So if a tiny man should ask for my help in carrying anything, I should refuse him.  If a dainty wisp of a lady were to offer me something to drink, I would be wise to say no.  And if a finely-dressed man should offer me a ride on his horse, I should run in the other direction.

Because if I helped the man with his burden, if I drank the lady’s wine, if I took the ride on the horse, I might find that this is not a glacial formation after all.  I might find myself inside that rabbit hole.  I’d go straight through the obvious entrance and plunge downward, spending at least 20 years inside and only occasionally looking for the exit.  Eventually I’d come out the same way I went in, considerably grayer and longer in tooth, but what a tale I’d have to tell!

It’s hard to explain.  There are some things that you just know.  I get a “feeling” whenever I’m around this boulder.  It’s that feeling of being watched, that feeling of there being much more to this rock than the eye can see.  There’s a feeling of another realm.  Was it formed by the last ice age?  Perhaps, but more likely, it was revealed and not formed.  An entrance was not carved by the ice; an exit was.

September 28, 2015 - Thoughts On The Atlantic

They’re bringing the pleasure boats in now.  One by one, they’re disappearing from the harbors and going into storage.  The floats off the end of the ramps are also being hauled in and stored.  October is just around the corner, and the Atlantic can be very “iffy” in October.  Sometimes it’s smooth, for the Atlantic, and other times it’s stormy and crazy. 

The Atlantic is getting moody.

 

My neighbor had a small boat that capsized in October a couple of years back.  It had broken free from the dock due to terrible turbulence on the Atlantic.  I saw it coming toward my house . . . and then . . . up in the air and slam!  Upsidedown it went.  He managed to salvage the boat, but the motor had gotten destroyed.  He was so angry with himself because he knew better than to trust the Atlantic in October.

The Pacific Ocean is called “pacific” for a reason.  By comparison to the Atlantic, it’s quite calm and lovely.  At least that’s what Magellan said when he first entered it, although I’m sure that people living all over the world on the coasts of the Pacific Ocean might have a different tale to tell.  Still, nothing beats the ferocity of the north Atlantic Ocean as far as I’m concerned.

It’s dramatically different at different times of the year, and we are heading into a “choppy” time.  I have seen many floats ripped off the end of docks in the fall, and they have come drifting by my window.  It’s not a time of year to fool around.  Everything needs to be put away and stored because we’re heading into the unforgiveable phase of the Atlantic’s expression.  By the time winter arrives, it will be one hell of a beast.

This so-called beast was named after Atlas, the Greek Titan.  He was the one punished by Zeus and had to hold up the heavens on his shoulders to prevent the Earth and the Heavens from engaging in their primordial embrace.  The Greeks believed the Atlantic was a huge river that encircled the world.  And out in that “river,” beyond the Pillars of Hercules, Plato tells us we will find the mysterious island of Atlantis. 

We now know that the Atlantic is the ocean that separates the New World from the Old World.  It was the Atlantic that had to be crossed to find the Americas.  I wonder if the Greeks somehow had preserved an ancient memory of the land on the other side of the Atlantic.  Perhaps submerged somewhere in its depths, we will someday find the fabled Atlantis, or perhaps America is Atlantis.  Until we find it, we will bring our boats in on time and haul in our floats, and we will respect the waters of the great Atlantic.