230608 Fire, phoebe, fox-and-cubs

 June 8, 2023

The sun, alien and scary from the smoke of the forest fires, photographed through the car windshield. We could not stop but I wanted to capture the image.

Smoky mountains that were green yesterday. There is a stretch of hills beyond those that are visible here in the haze. The world is burning. Canada is burning at least, but I remember that everywhere in the world a fire is burning, or a flood or a train crash has broken lives apart.

*****

The birds in the woodshed are phoebes. One of the parents flew out and landed on the roof long enough to bob its tail, which is an identifying characteristic. From there I checked out the eggs in my bird book, which showed five eggs exactly like my own photo, white in the nest. I want to go and see them more and closer, but that will disturb the parents, so I am quelling my interest and being happy just to know they are there. The  nest was already there, in fact there are two, untenanted for the past two years, well-built with mud for sturdiness and insulation. It is a marvel of nature that these creatures have a memory for such things. Call it instinct; it is "memory" nonetheless. 

I often wonder how much of our human behaviour is instinct, unconscious drive, even though we appear to use thought to make decisions. I look at mating and war, love and hatred, and wonder how much they are the mechanics of a life form and how much free will. This sounds suspiciously like the mechanistic model of the phenomenologists, who reduced mental processes, even pain, to a separate and not real aspect of creatures. But there can be a meeting of the two sides, and a wholistic model which can grant validity to subjective internal processes while acknowledging the instinctive nature of behaviour. Human thought, but also pain and joy in the smallest or largest of the animal species, can be given credence; we must have compassion and respect for all life. Instinct and mechanism in our being does not remove the onus upon us to strive for moral thought and action in all things. It would be easy to shrug and say, "It is my nature; I cannot help being selfish, or cruel; it is the way of the world." On the contrary we can be grateful that we can control our behaviour for I believe that we can. I must believe it. My moral sensibility insists that I can be my best self, that it is my own will that allows me to act with kindness and thought for the good of the world. The arrogance of the human must be mitigated by humble acceptance of our responsibility to other humans and to the world around us, life and resource.

*****

I have talked several times about solid ground, and have felt it there beneath my feet from time to time since the beginning of the year. But I have stepped off the path again and again, and wallowed in the unsteady mud of the swamp. The muddle of my thoughts was clouding any ability to do or decide. At my age I know enough to go on as best I can while time and circumstance carry me forward. Yet it is so frustrating and unnerving.

On June 1, I woke up and was not "depressed". For many weeks I have been struggling with that mindset of seeing the down side of everything: the entropy without rebirth, the sadness and pain without the joy. It is more than that, it is feeling the weight of the negative and not the hope and light of the positive, that is depression. One can, when not depressed, see the growth and opening-up alongside the entropy and death. Yet one is bouyed up by some spark that is trust, and ability, and vision. I thought that my depression would ease once we reached the vineyard, but it followed me like a determined stray, like muddy footprints. Now, thankfully, it has kept at bay all week. But what flipped the switch, I wonder? It was not situational, my situation being the same. And I am not consciously aware of a change of thinking on any situation. But I noticed that first day, the retreat of abstract philosophical thought, like a sea at ebb, far down the beach. The heavy worry about the world, its troubles, gets in the way of walking and acting mindfully in the present. 

Magical notions of star and moon, and of natural influences, sunrise and and summer, occur. Alternately, and more satisfying, is the idea that my thought process has moved me into a better place, that in the mud of confusion my mind was working to bring about this more positive state of mind. I will let all influences in, and see the process as a whole, hold onto the trust in self and world.

*****

I am often dismayed at the disposable material in the world. So much that is one use only, for transporting food, even if it is local. And then the container is thrown away, or often now recycled. Even so it is such a waste of materials, transportation expense, first to and from stores, and then to the recycle depot or the dump. I make use of some of it. We have not purchased plastic wrap now for two and a half years, relying on bags and wrap that our groceries come in. We have also not used paper towel or aluminum foil, which we do not miss. I use parchment paper instead of foil in cooking. Containers like this are useful for temporary art materials, drawer divisions and food storage. It would be fun to challenge oneself to buy nothing new, ever. Of course, I guess I am already a long way to doing that, with most of our clothes, dishes, household stuff and kids' toys second-hand. 

Fox-and-cubs, a relative of the hawkweed, they are a wonderful burnt orange and their name itself is delightful.

Keep safe. 

Mumma Yaga