July 9, 2014 - The Dog Days of Summer

Sirius, of the constellation Canis Major, is the brightest star in the sky now, and we are in the “Dog Days of Summer.”  The weather grows hotter, the rain abates, and fertility abounds.  On these days, the harbors are full.  Guests come from all over the world to see the beautiful coast of Maine and to be refreshed in its icy waters.  Yes, even in summer the Atlantic is cold this far north.  On days like these, we could almost forget that anything else exists but the choppy sea, the windswept shores, the blue sky, and the warm sun.  Almost.  The sun extends its hot fingers out toward the west as it begins its slow retreat into the night.

The dog days of summer.

July 8, 2014 - Mermaid Ledge

This is where I usually come when I want to find mermaids.  I call it "Mermaid Ledge" because they love to sun themselves here.  You must never believe the myths that abound, those which say there is no such thing as a mermaid.  Of course, they're perpetuated by the mermaids themselves who have an interest in keeping you ignorant of their existence, but I have seen plenty of them with my own eyes.  Unfortunately when I got here today, there was only one mermaid sunning herself on the shore.  Usually there are several.  I must say she was very uncooperative.  She quickly hurled herself into the water because she knew I wanted a picture of her.  If you look closely, you can see her shape in the water--I caught her just as she went under.  Next time I'll have to remember to bring a snack.  They love human food.  I've told them before it's not good for them and that a good portion of it isn't even good for humans.  They said I should eat more.

July 7, 2014 - Party in the Meadow

Did you know there was a party going on in the meadow today?  I didn’t either.  I usually stick to the coolness of the forest because the sun is too hot for me, and I am more familiar with the creatures of the woods.  But today the Sun reached out his long arms and coaxed me into the meadow.  Everywhere I looked there was blazing, brilliant color!  Millions of insects were flying about.  Bees were buzzing everywhere.  Butterflies were floating and drifting and dancing.  There were hums and whistles with hundreds of things I could identify and just as many that I could not.  There was so much intensity of life occurring everywhere that it took my breath away.

I stayed for a while and filled my eyes up to the brim and beyond.  Eventually, the coolness of the woods called me back.  The Sun was too brilliant and hot.  When I last looked, I saw him dancing with some rye grass.  Back into the woods I went, stumbling at first because my eyes were blinded.  Then the cool moisture crept back over me, and the heady scent of the forest floor enveloped me once again.  I breathed a sigh that was filled at once with relief and loss.  “Moderation,” I whispered to myself.

I looked to the horizon in the west where I knew the sun would set in a slightly different spot each night.  Even now, it was slowly creeping back, but I decided I would say nothing to the frenzied meadow creatures.  Not yet.  Soon there would be time enough for them all to sleep.

July 6, 2014 - The Sun's Command

Whereas yesterday was rainy, dark, and introspective, today is brilliant and warm.  The sun shines brightly on the ocean as the tide comes in, and it reflects off the water like a million diamonds.  The brilliance pierces everything with razor-sharp intensity.  The shadows that were all about me yesterday are driven forth by the sheer intensity of the Sun, who will tolerate no darkness.  "All is exposed," the Sun boomed loudly, "and there will be no place to hide, for I require absolute loyalty!  Show yourself!"  I nodded readily and agreed, and secretly--ever so secretly--I kept the vision of the moon and the darkness and the coolness hidden in a tiny black pouch in my mind.  I knew the day would come again when I would need the solace of the shadows.  One cannot gaze too long at perfection.

July 5, 2014 - The Silent Witness

On gray days, I can feel the watcher.  The rain falls intermittently or sometimes torrentially, and the watcher is there.  The birds are silent and hiding from the weather; the animals as well.  The insects shelter under leaves.  Nothing moves very much.  Even these two ducks, one with her head below and the other above, glide furtively and silently as they seek shelter and protection.

I’m all alone, and that’s when I can feel the watcher the most.  I call it “the silent witness” because it stands back and watches without ever making a comment.  It is not the judge in my head.  You know of the judge?  The one who tells you that you have done right or wrong?  The silent witness is not the judge.  And it’s not the parent in my head.  Surely you know of the parent?  The one who berates you for not working hard enough and occasionally praises you (very occasionally) for a job well done?  The silent witness is not the parent.  In fact, it’s none of those parts of us that we have “conversations” or “arguments” in our heads with, those parts that guide or misguide, that tempt or protect.

The Silent Witness is the one who stands apart, the one who watches it all.  The silent witness offers no opinion and takes no sides.  It merely watches and stores events in the Akashic Halls.  Ordinarily, we are too busy to notice it.  But on these days when the mists fall and the veils between the worlds grow thin, sometimes we can feel the silent witness watching us.  It is an extraordinarily odd feeling to witness the witness, the one who momentarily becomes aware of itself.

July 4, 2014 - The Shack

There is a shack overlooking the Mill Stream, and in my heart it belongs to me.  No one lives there now, although it looks like at some point it was wired for electricity.  I often wonder about this shack.  Someday I will cross the stream and go closer, but it is a long hike down a slippery slope to get there.  I'd like to know more about it, but there's no one in the area I can ask.  I can tell by the windows that it's not a modern building, but then you could see that by the photo anyhow.

Who lived here?  Why did they build it right over the stream?  I'm one who always wants to know why things are the way they are.  There must be reasons.  There must be answers.  And, yes, there must be dreams--always.  In my mind's eye, I picture the builders.  I ponder on what their hopes and dreams might have been.  It must have been cold there during the winter.  When the sky and the water and the wind raged, as they often do in Maine, did the cold creep through the floor boards and grab at their ankles?  I imagine it must have as it does even now in my own home.  Was their fire enough to keep them warm?  Did they have hand-sewn quilts on the bed, made from scraps of fabric odds and ends?  There looks to be a shed in the back.  How much food did they store in it?  Did they hike up to the Harraseeket River and fish in its tidal waters in the winter?

And Spring.  Did they wait longingly, as I do, for Spring?  Did they turn hopeful, tearful eyes to the sun and wait for the joy it always brings?  I think they did.

The shack on Mill Stream.

July 3, 2014 - Fairy Traps

Well, they're at it again.  I'd gotten a break for a while and almost thought the fairies had up and moved, but it seems not.  I went for my usual walk through the woods and almost stumbled into this.  First we have a "threshold," which is the two trees you see.  Now, a threshold can be just an ordinary spot between one room and another, and that's what most people think it is.  However, in the magical world, a threshold signifies a serious "change," a change from one state of being to another.  A change from one mindset to another.  The departure from one life and the entrance into another.

I heard a massive "crunch," and the rock opened up before me, as you can see.  I tried to look into it from where I was without crossing the threshold, but it was hard to see for sure.  I could tell that the chasm created went far into the Earth.  They were taunting me, tempting me, wooing me, and ultimately attempting to trap me.  I've no doubt that if I had crossed the threshold, I would have become disoriented and fallen into the chasm (most likely pushed).  Then there would have been another crunch and I would have left this world.

Now, there are those of you who will read this and tell me I am wrong.  You will say that this is not fairy magic and fairy trickery, but the footprints of a glacier that left this land 10,000 years ago.  You will tell me of continents crashing into one another and creating a Pangaea, then splitting apart again from volcanic activity, and then lastly being covered by massive sheets of ice.  You will tell me that as the ice finally retreated, it ripped the huge rocks asunder like silly putty, dragging and depositing them about randomly.  You will tell me that the chasms and rocks and caves and fissures all around me in Maine are just a result of geological wonders.

But you just don't know those fairies like I do.

Rock torn asunder from geological "forces."

July 2, 2014 - Rocky Coast

Hard rock comprises about 58% of the Maine coastline.  This was formed from continents smashing into one another and glaciers later tearing through the land.  The coast is a spectacular site to see but very dangerous for sailors.  There is a lot of granite and iron ore, and you can actually see the rust color as the iron slowly oxidizes.  But interspersed here and there, sometimes in very large quantity, is quartz rock/crystal.  It's very beautiful and just a natural part of the shore here.  It's a magical thing to see it shimmering on the coast in the sunlight.  I suspect it's why the fairies set up shop here in the first place.  (You will recall my Transformers post from May 13.)

There's an energy to be found here in Maine if you know how to look for it.  It's palpable.  It's in the air.  It's in the rocks.  You can feel it.  That's why the fairies have set their stronghold up here.  It's why I'm here as well.  If you are a sensitive person, be warned.  If you come here, you may find yourself unable to leave.

Quartz adorns the rocky shore of Maine.

Sunset - July 1, 2014

This makes me thankful.