Wetland Restoration

The air is thickening down here with Mardi Gras merriment and the occasional warm day brings out the dank of the swamp. I am definitely at the apex of my career trajectory as I'm living in the Merry Green Marvel under a bridge down by the river!  But I'm at least with gravel underneath not sinking all that pure green joy into the swamp.  I'm slogging away meeting with folks and cooking up projects for next Fall season. 

My love for cypress swamp grows with each kayak paddle. I felt I was watching the dawn of creation as I watched the moon rise through the bare trees out of this primal soup the last few nights.  I remember other times of my life needing to find swamp or a place where the going is hard just to provide the physical metaphor for the journey through this crazy world.  

The other night I ventured off the river into an area flooded by recent rains.  I ran out of easy passage water and began bushwhacking the kayak getting hung up on cypress knees and pushing through thorny strip ya naked vines. I got what I sub consciously needed: Lost.  I felt frustrated and a growing need to quell the panic impulse or at least the self consciousness of how stupid it would look to  Be seen. As I pulled away on trees and pushed with my paddle I wasn’t sure where I was going and if I’d make it back out to the river before dark. I used setting sun to reconnoiter.  On a tangle of thorny vine I saw a little snake all coiled up.  I’m pretty sure it was the poisonous kind, but I felt sympathy for it more than anything. Most likely displaced from its winter slumber by the flood.  It was clinging to that vine just inches above the cold water.  I wondered how it would make it through the cold night.   The sun was sinking fast.   

When I finally could see the river there was surge of exhilaration siphoning off the last of the adrenaline.   I paddled off into a side swamp and waited for the moon rise.  The  chill that came with the evening fog started to settle in and I felt it in my bones.  I switched on my head lamp and was amazed to see sparkles in my high beam coming off the tree trunks near where the high water mark lapped up.  I felt transported into another constellation!  Curious I paddled closer and found that each sparkle was a spider!  I was in the swamp orbiting with thousands of spiders!  

I’ve never forgotten the phrase from the Lakota that says, “It is a good day to die.”  Why would they want to issue a death wish to the sun rise?  Now maybe I understand the death we give ourselves over to as the way to real freedom and peace.    Yes there is the good fight and much to live for, but carrying the worldly weight grinds us down.  When I can accept that death is the most natural occurrence everyday in nature then maybe that frees up more heart space for faith.  They say faith sees best in the dark.  How else can I explain the myriad of diamond glow in the swamp that night?   I paddled home riding the swift current of the flooded river watching the moon rise though thin clouds making it look like gauze on a wounded weary world.  Let’s call it wetland restoration.

Notes from the Adventure Bus

Super Moon

Tortoises can live for over 100 years.  This one raises

its head and with a wink of a blinkless eye a sparkle blooms

from the sags and wrinkles and worries of a weary world.  A

sparkle that says, “Why not?”  Why not ride this Yum Yum bus.  

Climb aboard this is a yes to Yeehaw! Yes to shedding old skin.

Yes to stepping out of comfort zones.  Inhibitions cracked

like the eagle of soon to be six foot wings busting through a hard

shell with open maw ready to “Eat More Food!”  And we all get

to ride this born again bus, incubating in the ripe dimthuey

of smelly socks, snores , sneezes and sighs. And Yes! To riding

no matter where we’re from, or who we worship or how deep

we’ve drunk of the very cup of trembling.  This bus is out to prove

that Happiness floats as we wade on in, back to Mama, bobbering

with shrimp and fly larvae in a lime green brine as Tufus, of course,

can’t help but trumpet, “Yum, Yum!”  Yum Yum to curry seasoned

with the spice of a sunset that takes us in , no matter how small we are,

no matter how our hearts have  numbed and pulls us up to scampering

on tip toes every which way because it’s so everywhere and suddenly

we are everywhere and with everyone who has ever loved us.  Earth! We

grab for cell phones to try and text a photo but not even the vroom of devices

can keep up with this feeling as still more dappled dusk divines

into the pulse of a heart becoming a river braiding its way into story:

and then! and then! and then!  And you’re still talking about the sunset!   

And then:  Even when there’s dishes to do a musical medley breaks

out in the musical notes of what a heart can gather like the smell

of Ponderosa Pine, the shine of morning sun on obsidian, Aspen giving

their gold away, towering crescendos of white granite, meadows

called Tuolumne (To All o’ Me), and spires of trees at night stirring

the stars into a milkiness that dawns.  And these songlines imprint

your soul so that in those moments when it’s utterly dark and you’re

furthest away, you find a memory floating up inside you like a moon,

you thought was clouded over, slowly emerges from a total eclipse

and you catch yourself humming, “Yum. Yum!”

Mom's Eulogy

Can we take one last walk with Mom?  You come too. The poet Wendell Berry asks us, "To practice Resurrection."  For Mom just getting up out of the bed was an act of Resurrection. But being 80 or 95 or even 99 was never an excuse to sleep in.  Seldom was she ever not up at least by 7am. But it didn't come easy. This Resurrection involved canting a litany of the saints: Oh my Mother in Heaven!  Jesus, Joseph and Mary! Lord have Mercy! Oh my darling Harry! and quoting great grand daughter Amaya: C'mon Mom Mom you can do it! You can do it Mom Mom!. And the sounds that came out of her were a cacophony of Uncle Eddie's two banger engines puttering and gasping through a cold start and then there came the wheezing and releasing the stiffness, shuddering a little like a big Belgian horse pulling the plow as the first furrow of Spring turns over.   But once up, she is a force to be reckoned with for she walks with a down hill lean and has 99 and 5/6 years of momentum on her side. She is a charter member of the force of Love! From all that living she knows truly that God is able and with God, indeed all things are possible!

And there is no going out to do the work of the Lord without gussying all up with one of her many pant suits, a coordinated scarf, jewelry, a pair of S.A.S. shoes (Beige, Navy, and Black) and of course her make up. Her eyes are not so good so the eye brow pencil can veer up in a rainbow arc creating a look of total amazement.  Which come to think of it is all part of this walk; why not look pleasantly surprised and why not to set yourself on a path in perpetual state of wonder and amazement. She'll help you be amazed too. Mom found Beauty in this world and brought it out in those she met. In every walk there was always new friends to meet.

And once she met you, you were not forgotten.  She really listened to you didn't she? And she took a sincere interest and wanted to know what's important to you and how you connect. No one can break down the six degrees of separation faster than Mom. "Oh if you're from Dows then you must know Dale and Imogene Hostetler who live out on the county road going east out of town.  Being a nurse all those years she'll probably remember too if you've had your gall bladder out. She has lived for five generations and has the wide spreading branches and tangles of genealogical trees stored in what seemed more memory than any device to come out of Silicon Valley. And her memory was sincerely tendered. If you lived in Hardin or Franklin County chances are she knew who you were related to.  

Mom had a saying in her later years:  "Give me a second to bring that to the front"  Imagine her memory as a huge warehouse of files upon files.  Files so high you need a ten foot step ladder to reach the top. When she says "Give me a second to bring that to the front,” imagine her minions of elves and gnomes scurrying about finding your three ring binder and pushing it up to the front on a flat bed push cart. And don't you feel special that she remembers so much about you?

And of course this vast memory was really  just a glimpse of her magnanimous heart. Magnanimous in its range of generosity and forgiveness, the warmth of her heart offered horizons upon horizons that stretch into the infinite revealing a faith that served her again and again, hardship after hardship, tragedy after tragedy, weakness after weakness.  Like the Iowa farmland that raised her and sustained her: She was understated yet with deep reserves of resiliency to meet whatever needed to be met and a richness of resolve to carry on no matter what. She never seemed to need to check out with the usual numbing diversions, she just seemed ready and willing to do what the Lord asked of her, whatever the case or the day. And whatever the day she was always happy that you stopped by and loved "whipping up a little something to eat before you have to go."

This walk could never have gone the distances she covered without stopping to pray.  And praying brought out the serious, distressed look, often with a set jaw. But as in the determination she put into her walk, Mom was determined to find the strength to keep on keeping on from her prayer. Her constant plea was in the form of the Prayer to St Jude, patron Saint of hopeless causes. Apparently everything and everyone, herself included, fit somewhere on the spectrum of hopelessness.  Praying to St Jude was going right to the special forces and not wasting time with some saint that only dealt with somewhat hopeless causes. She wore out many St Jude prayer cards over the years until she got one that was laminated on a board when she was out to Arizona with Dad, Melvin and Agnes Mary back in 1974. That one, though peeling and rubbed to oblivion, was like a daily touchstone. It carried the essence that gave her the poise that lifted her into her highest self.  

From that higher ground she truly had the long view that assured her and those she touched,that it's going to be alright. No matter your grievance, no matter your feelings of being treated unfair or not appreciated you must know this: it may seem bad now but it's just temporary.  Don't give into your anger, your judgments that spring from your fear and ignorance. Refrain from numbing yourself to the pain. This can only hurt you and those closest to you who may be trying their best to love you. Trust your heart and its impulse to keep giving, find compassion, reach out knowing full well that you may never see what comes of this love you have to give.  But know without a doubt that your contribution builds up the force of love in this world. Her 99 year long view that was born before women could vote and sliced bread was invented will be your daily testimony that Love always wins!

This is the heart shine you see coming off her as you walk along with her.  This is the profound freedom she is giving you as you make this walk. You have options! Use them. Develop your talents, open your mind to new learning everyday.  Don't let yourself become a feeble pawn to someone else's power and greed. Laugh often! It helps you transcend your pettiness to see the humble and fragile humanity in yourself so you can see it in others.

From this place she couldn't help but be generous and realize it's more fun to give it away than to cling and hold on tight and spite others who are less fortunate.  1936, in the depths of the Great Depression she was in her last year of nursing school. She came home for Christmas to find that there was no extra money for material gifts in her family of ten.  Although with the Oppolds all it really took was a deck of cards for a raucous good time. But Mom made a note to herself. "Not again." The following Christmas times were still hard, but Mom had graduated and had started her first job working a 12 hour shift for five dollars.  That Christmas she came home with gifts for everyone: Eddie got a pair of skates, one of the brothers got a shot gun, Ruth got a winter blazer and Mama and Papa got a brand new bedroom set.

Fast forward 79 years: on the day Mom died she woke up weak and unable to stand on her own. Somehow she still found a way to get on her make up and dress up.  She was taken to the hospital in Iowa Falls. There she felt a growing sense of weakness through the day. But always aware and always a nurse, she knew that 3pm meant a shift change and that a new nurse would be coming on the floor.  Making connections to the end, Mom was happy to meet the new nurse and ask about her family and place her in the grand genealogy she kept compiling. This nurse was accompanied by two local nursing students from Ellsworth College, whom Mom also found the reserves to interview and place them.  One of them piped up at the bedside of this grand elder: "You're Evelyn Lawless?!? I was the one who received your nursing scholarship just this past year." Tears are shared. A torch is passed. It was the last chance Mom had to make a new friend. Soon after she had a massive stroke and moved on along.

So here we are.  But know this walk with Mom isn't over. There are no excuses or better alternatives than to keep on walking. "Get up. Get into it. Get involved!"  She is always available to walk with you. To be this big heart that is your biggest fan, rooting you on, making you feel that you are her favorite. Thrilling in the adventure of deepening your own heart. Keep giving to the circle of kindness and know that you may never know or recognize how it comes around and how it gives back to you, but oh do know that this is it. This is the Resurrection!

And before you go out, know you shouldn't attempt this walk without necessary supplies: Mom's last shopping list was on her end table near the St Jude prayer card: Toilet Paper, Room Air Spray, Puffs and Ice Cream.  And don't forget the Ice Cream!

Christmas 2016

A Nativity

November 2016.

First there was the election and two days later my Mom decided to move on along after 99 years.  My hope for humankind and the life of the planet was diminished. At 55 I was now an orphan and depressed that much of what I stood up for in my life’s work was slipping away to the powers of greed, ignorance and fear.   Then as if up from the grave for one last parenting flourish, Mom sent me Jewel to get me to stop my moping around and stand up straight.

He was born in a logging camp in Mississippi in 1921 and his Mama named him Jewel for the way he smiled right from the start.  His wife chimes in, “And he shines everyday for me like the most precious of jewels.” Over the years this life forged a deepening shine that could not be dulled.  There were the scarcities of the logging camp, being forced to eat tree leaves during the Great Depression, the war in the Pacific, the years working at the plant.

Then came the Louisiana flood of August 2016, devastating his home with three feet of water inside.  He seems surprisingly light hearted for someone with 95 years worth of stuff to lose. He acted like it was simply  the occasion required to bring us together.

He asks me to come around with him to the back of the house where stands his orange tree littered with flood debris; chaos, including a  baby doll, wedged into branches by the torrent of water. All the oranges were stripped and carried away by the flood before they had a chance to mature.  Yet hung up in the highest branch, an orb of ripened fruit remained, like the very sun born of the darkest night. Jewel shook the tree and as if on cue a reflex opened my hands, the fruit landing into an easy catch.  His smile widening like a long summer day when you have a man named Jewel remind you that you too are shining like the sun.