November 16, 2014 - The Five Elements

The four elements joined together today and held hands for this photo.  Here you see Earth, Air, Water, and Fire.  The earth is the sand, the water is the ocean, the fire is the sun, and the presence of the unseen air is known by the movement of the clouds.  It is said that with these four elements, anything can be created.

But there is a fifth element, a binding element, the one that fuses the four and gives them purpose.  This is the element of Spirit.  This is the glue, the net, the web.  Without Spirit, the creation of the other four elements would be meaningless and haphazard at best, if even possible, with no direction and no purpose.  But with the directing pressure of Spirit, everything falls into its own perfect place.

There have been many names for Spirit over the millennia, and I would neither presume to give a name here nor argue over the names given by others.  However, I think that “pressure” is an accurate description--nudging, directing, solidifying, gravitating, and ultimately manifesting--with waves behaving like particles and particles behaving like waves.

And how do we know Spirit?  In today’s lesson as I looked out over the very cold ocean in the season where no life can readily be seen, it was easy to know Spirit.  The busy-ness of the other elements was slowed to a crawl, and there were no other life forms to distract me.  This was how I saw it.  Spirit is not life; it is that which gives rise to life, that which comes before.  When life pauses, as it does in the winter, the web can be seen.

The joining of the elements.

November 15, 2014 - Rock Turtle

Down along Route 127 in Maine as you’re headed to the shore, you’ll see interesting rock formations.  Of course, you’ll see interesting rock formations everywhere in Maine, but along this particular route, a seer came and saw what was hiding in the rocks.  How many people had driven, walked, or biked down this route and had not seen what was hiding in the rocks?  How many years did the creature stay hidden?

And then the seer came, and he saw the creature hiding in the rocks.  He looked at the rocks from all angles, and the creature said, “Please!  Free me!  I want to see and be seen!”  So the seer bought some paint and he began to touch the rocks.  He wondered to himself what the best way might be to not only paint the color of the creature, but to use the actual structure and curves of the rocks themselves to show the depth and breadth and body of the creature.

Then he painted, and then he left.  And this turtle is the gift he gave us.  Many other creatures called to him, and perhaps someday he will free them as well.  Many creatures call to us every day.  “Do you see me?!  Do you see me?!  I am here!  I am here!”  All we have to do is alter our vision, just the slightest bit, and the entire world comes alive.  This is the world of the Fae.  Do you see them?

The turtle in the rock.

The creature called to the seer.

The creature can see and is now seen.

November 14, 2014 - In Pursuit

All alone at the beach, you can see my footprints as I walked down toward the water, in pursuit of Maine, as usual.  I found Maine at the beach today, waiting for me like a lover.  We were all alone and didn’t have to worry about what anyone else thought of us.

The waves in the sand you see are not from the water but from the cold wind as it scrapes across the drier sand that is farther up from the surf.  A severe storm will bring the water up this high, and that will happen soon enough, but a regular tide will not do so.  I wrote my message out with a piece of driftwood that I found.

But the wind had other ideas and he erased my message completely and the evidence of my having been there as well until there was nothing left but Maine, which is what I started with anyhow.  The quest continues.

The search continues.

November 13, 2014 - Sedimentary Island

Back in the days the when the Earth was young and all the rules had not yet been set in stone--indeed, some had not been formed at all--there was the first beautiful stand of trees on a tiny island in a large river.  They grew out of the longing desire of the island, the island that felt alone and remote from the rest of land.  Day and night the island pined away for friendship and love, and it was this pining that grew into active imagination, which as everyone knows is what manifests everything from the field of potentiality to the seen world of solidity.

Out of this imagining and dreaming came some beautiful trees, and as they grew strong and tall from the fertility of the island, they became self-aware.  Now they were separate from the island, although still completely dependent upon it.  Now the friendship could grow in earnest, and grow it did.  Daily, the island fed the trees and the rain watered them, and in return the trees talked to the island and kept her company.  Daily, the island would tell the trees how beautiful they were.

One day it occurred to the trees that they did not know what the word “beautiful” meant, and so they asked the island, who promptly responded by telling them that they were beauty itself.  However, this did not help the trees since they could not see themselves, and this gave rise to a bit of discontent.

“Describe us!” said the trees to the island one day, and she did.

“You are tall and slender and green and graceful,” the island said.

“But what is tall?”

“And what is slender?”

“And what is green?”

“And what is graceful?” four trees asked at once.  The island could not answer these questions to the satisfaction of the trees, and soon they became even more discontented and did not talk as much to the island as they used to do.

The mirror of the water.

Trees are fickle by nature, of course, with pines being the most fickle, but the island was lonely and wanted her friends back.  At last she contrived a plan but would need the help of the churning water all around her.

“Would you go still for the trees so that they might see their reflection on your surface?” the island asked the water.

“And what will you give me in return?” the water responded.

“I could give you the pretty fallen leaves.”
“Not good enough.  The wind already gives me those.”

“I could give you warmth from my inner core,” said the island.

“Don’t need it.  The sun already does that.”  The island was running out of ideas.

“Well, then,” she said after considerable thought, “I could soften my rocks just a bit so that as you lapped against my shore, you could slowly wear me down into sand that you could use to form your own Earth elsewhere.”

This appealed to the water, who was greedy and shrewd and more than a bit jealous of the solidity of the island in comparison to his own fluid nature.  He agreed to go completely still as a mirror but only twice a day at sunset and sunrise and only when the weather was fair.  So they struck a deal and the water immediately went to work at wearing the rocks of the island away.  He would eventually erode the island away completely, and the island knew this, but she did not care because now she had a gift to give her tree friends.

Now even though trees are fickle and pines especially are bristly, they are not as a rule cruel beings.  They had overheard the entire exchange between the island and the water.  They were very excited about getting to see their reflection for the first time in the water, but they were also concerned about their old friend, the island--partially because they required the island itself in order to grow but also because they had grown to like the heart of the old island.  And after all, it was a symbiotic relationship, which benefitted them both and which they intended to strengthen even more.

So the first sunset after the agreement took place came to the island, and the water kept his promise and went still as a mirror.  The trees looked down and saw just how beautiful they were.  They saw that they were tall and slender and green and graceful, and for a while, they just stared into the water until it began to churn again, wearing slowly away at the island, who said nothing.

In the morning, after viewing themselves in the still water of the sunrise, the trees greeted the island warmly and chit-chatted with her.  They began to shed their leaves and some of their needles and their sap and their twigs and all the things left in their branches by the birds and animals that lived there.  Day in and day out they did this, piling pieces of themselves, of the animals around them, of fur and feathers, of the other plants, of insects, etc., all over the island and especially at the shore.  And day in and day out, the water lapped against the island, compacting all that was shed.  This went on for a very long time.

One day it occurred to the island that she was no smaller than she had been at the beginning of her deal with the churning water.  In fact, she had grown a bit!  This made her very happy but confused, and it perplexed the water who daily set about trying to tear her down.  The trees only giggled when the island remarked upon this.  The water churned more and more, trying to bear down upon the island.  The more he did this, the harder the sediment around the island became, until at last he gave up because the sedimentary rocks he had created himself were quite hard and resilient.

“Oh, you knew all along, didn’t you!?” said the island to the trees.  The trees just laughed.  They had formed from the longing desire of the island, and daily bits of them returned to the island because energy cannot be created or destroyed but can only change form.  Of course, this all took place in the beginning of the world, and it is anyone’s guess if it is still going on.  Ask the trees, though, if you care to know as they seem to have an understanding of such things.

November 12, 2014 - Night Creatures

I went outside early this morning before the sun had risen, when the fog still clung heavily to the ground, and I could see things that were not there during daylight hours.  When the sun sets, he carefully picks up each one of his creatures and hides them from the night.  Then he returns them all in the morning, safe and sound, before most of us are aware that they had even been removed.  But before they are returned, there are other denizens of the woods who take their place while they are gone.  These were the creatures that were out this morning.

The message to me was clear:  You do not belong here.  The skeletons of the woods were roaming free, and their bony fingers were everywhere, reaching up high into the sky.  It occurred to me that they were strong enough now at this dark time of year to actually be looking for the sun.  Whereas they would have ran frightened during the summer months, now their boldness had grown to arrogance, and I wondered whether they would lay in ambush for the sun and destroy him this time.

They rule before the sun comes.

You do not belong here, came the voice in my mind, the voice that told me I was dealing with a very different kind of morality than what I was used to.  Here there was no seeking of balance and no honor among thieves.  Here were the inner workings of the world that lived in eternal darkness, just as did my own skeleton within my own body, never seeing the light of day.  Yet without it, there would be no me.  So the idea came to me that without the creatures of the night, there would be nothing to support the external world of light.  I thought to myself, I do belong here.

And this is what they can do to your mind in the morning before the light comes.  This is how they get inside at this time of year to remind you that they have always been there.  I sought the sun later but could not gaze directly at him because he knew I was guilty.

November 11, 2014 - The Lighthouse

I always wondered about lighthouses.  They’re designed to warn sailors of nearby shore or of rocks jutting out of the sea, and in that sense, they have saved countless lives.  They’re a distant beacon warning and yet beckoning.  Imagine being out on the sea and not having seen land for a long time and maybe even wondering if you’ll ever see land again, wondering if you’re lost in the mist.

“Come to me,” the lighthouse beckons in the dark and misty night, the very lighthouse that is placed there to warn you away from it or to at least tell you to be very careful where you sail.  But it’s such a bright light twinkling in the cold and wind.  Maybe it’s not really there, you think, maybe it’s just a mirage.  “Come to me,” the lighthouse whispers.  Come where you should not come; go around although you wish to stay.

The Pond Island lighthouse.

Like a Siren from the ancient Greek and Roman myths, the dangerous and beautiful creatures who lured sailors with their singing to shipwreck on their island, the lighthouse sings out its song:  “Come to me.”  Their song was mesmerizing yet very sad.  If it was heeded, disaster followed.  Even Leonardo da Vinci wrote of the Sirens and their beckoning yet fatal call.

Or perhaps it’s more like a seductive Selkie of Scottish and Irish folklore, who enchants the human who captures her but always escapes back to the sea the first chance she gets when she finds her Selkie “skin.”  Perhaps you could look longingly at a lighthouse, but never quite own that initial burst of light and joy it brings to you because it washes its affections out to the sea only.  “Come to me,” it says, but you must never do it.

November 10, 2014 - Fort Popham

At the mouth of the Kennebec River in Phippsburg, Maine, stands old Fort Popham.  It’s not far from the original Popham Colony of 1607, and like the colony, it’s named after George Popham.  Fort Popham came along later though, and it was just a small fortification during the American Revolution (1765-1783).  In 1808 the federal government built the site up into an embargo fort, and it was part of the system that guarded the coast.  The fort stayed manned until 1815 and saw some action in the War of 1812.

Construction of the fort that we see today began in 1861 during the American Civil War (1861-1865).  It was built in a crescent shape from granite rocks quarried from nearby islands.  Construction stopped in 1869 before the fort was completed, but additional work was done and it was garrisoned again during the Spanish-American War (1898) and World War I (1914-1918).  Eventually, the newer Fort Baldwin constructed in the early 1900s made Fort Popham obsolete.

Fort Popham, Maine

Fort Popham is now part of the National Register of Historic Places.  Now tourists come and eat fried fish and munch french fries and gulp down soda while they look at a part of early American history.  I don’t know why this makes me sad, but it does.  Perhaps it’s because an important part of our history and protection is now just something to gawk at and take photos.  What would the original builders of Fort Popham have thought of that?  And how about the original settlers of the Popham Colony who were here in Maine long before the fort?  What would they think of a great fort built and then unmanned and abandoned and turned into a tourist attraction?

There is a great deal of history in Maine and all of New England that the rest of modern America does not share.  There are roots here.  There were real people who came here, settled in Maine, lived and died, and began the early part of what is now the United States of America.  For these people, it was not about tourism or what people might read in history books.  These people were living the actual history, creating it as they went about their daily lives of colonizing the “new world.”

Fort Popham, Maine

Fort Popham, Maine

Fort Popham, Maine

Fort Popham, Maine

November 9, 2014 - The Magic of the Beach

There’s just something about the ocean.  Is it the sound?  The scent?  The sight?  Maybe all of those things and more.  It’s just relaxing to go to the beach during anytime of the year.  Most people go in summer only, but I find the beach to be most glorious in the colder weather.  There is no finer surf than what you will find at the beach in January or February, especially during a snowstorm.  But I am a Mainer, and not everyone enjoys the cold as I do.

It could be the huge amount of negative ions in the air.  Negative ions are invisible molecules in the air that are most prevalent naturally around bodies of water, such as waterfalls or the ocean.  They are also plentiful just after a rainstorm.  Did you ever notice that fresh and wonderful scent and feeling in the air after a good rain?  Did you ever feel a calm come over you after a storm?  It’s not just psychological.  It’s negative ion magic at work.

A magical November day on Popham Beach, Maine.

An ion is a molecule that has gained or lost an electrical charge, and this can occur with many things, especially moving water.  The theory is that when the negative ions reach our bloodstream, they produce biochemical reactions that increase levels of serotonin, and this helps to alleviate depression and stress.  University studies have shown that negative ion generators can help relieve depression as much as antidepressants.  Part of how they work is by increasing the flow of oxygen to the brain, and this in turn gives us more energy and a feeling of alertness.  Some people call them “vitamins of the air.”

Then, again, maybe it’s just the beach and the horses and a magical cool November day.

(It’s important to note that grounded devices [such as computer monitors] can produce positive ions, which counteract negative ions.  As always, In Pursuit of Maine is a blog about my experiences of Maine.  If you want further information or analysis or references, the internet beckons.)

November 8, 2014 - Scars

Such odd growth occurs everywhere.  A sweeping glance tells us that Nature is perfect, but closer inspection reveals that she is not.  Or perhaps she is, but it is only that she does not meet our expectations and so we deem her creations imperfect.  There is not one of us who is perfect, and each of us bears many scars--some seen but most unseen.  Like this tree, each one of us has callouses built up around attempted growth, failure, cuts, sickness, and sorrow.  Like this tree, each of us has hardened knots and growth that snakes in odd directions, which we try to hide, even from ourselves.

But unlike this tree, most of us do not show our imperfections.  We hide them and gloss them over and place distractions in front of them.  All the while we are hoping that no one sees our deformities, that no one sees how we tried and failed, that no one notices our weak spots.  We play a game of pretend with everyone, especially ourselves.  No one must know of our defeats.

A tangled mass of scar tissue on the tree.

Yet our defeats have their own faces, even as this tree does.  Look carefully at the tangled knot and you will see the face.  You will see the pain.  It’s okay to see it, and the tree doesn’t mind.  The tree says, “Yes, this was where I tried to grow toward the east but suffered tragedy and illness.  How lucky I am to have learned such a valuable lesson!  It saved me heartache when next I tried to grow toward the west.  Life is glorious!”

We can do the same.  We can say, “Yes, this is where I had a C-section.  This is where I took some shrapnel in the war.  This is where the ball hit me and took my eye.”  Or maybe we could go deeper to our hearts and say, “Yes, this is where I lost my wife because of what I did.  This is where my mother died.  This is what happened when I lost my career.”  Or could we go even deeper into our souls?  Could we say, “Yes, this is where I lost my faith.  This is where I killed my dreams.  This is where I met the dark one, and this is what I did.”

Could we do that?  Could we be as brave as a tree?