Seeing stars is such a gift! Seeing them in the Andes has to be a lifetime memory! Thanks for sharing it!
I can still remember 50+ years ago driving with a college pal across the "wilds" of Colorado. We stopped to stargaze when it seemed like the sky was going to burst with stars. When you see the star output in a dark sky you never forget it.
So, thank you for the opportunity to share an old story. Now I will look for that grace note to tuck in my pocket. Thank you as well, Carrie, for sharing your wonder with us. Always a gift.
My grandfather died close to my birthing due date. Because of the stress, my mother was induced. If I survived, then good. If I did not, she had 2 other mouths to feed already and her dad was dying of cancer. When I was born (and fought to survive) he named me. I have an affinity towards him and tell this story of his good natured mischief and kind heart. As general secretary to the YMCA, he moved from town to town to raise funds to build a YMCA. He would start at ground breaking and end with the dedication. In Beverly, Mass. he was there for the dedication and so was the President of the United States, President Taft (who summered in Beverly). After the ceremony they all joined the president for a black tie even complete with top hats. Just before dinner, by grandfather quietly walked by the president and slipped some silverware into his pocket! Then he went to the waitstaff young man and said, "Sir, I believe that gentleman, (pointing at the president), just slipped some silver into his pocket. I think you should confront him." The young lad walked over shaking in his shoes the whole time, and when he got to the president, he said, "Sir, I am going to have to ask you to turn out your pockets. We are missing some silverware." The president looked shocked but reached into his pocket to turn it out for the young man, and felt the familiar feeling of silver. He immediately turned to my grandfather, smiled and pointed, and said simply, "You!" Fortunately for my grandfather, who I assumed had a relationship with the president, all was in good humor. I love him for his mischief and good natured fun, something I have exemplified. I carry him in my bones.
“Gathering of Spirits” - a not so old song- never fails to give me pause, to remember the good, wise, hardworking women in my family who made their way into a new world and a new way of being empowered with determination. Mamoo, my grandmother, worked miracles with the what life presented. Stars. Glimmering stars. Promises and Possibilities. I remain connected.
You took me back to our backyard for the five years we lived in Estes Park, Colorado. The Rocky Mountain National Park was two miles away from our condo and we often would go into the park to savor the night sky. And the wildlife… Elk herds at the church, elk and deer in our neighborhood… the occasional bear, bobcat, or coyote wandering past… it was wonderful! Thank you, Carrie!
Teri I lover your comment. I had the joy of living in Green Valley for 17 years. A place were I experienced a miracle every day. Nor I live in Texas in a rental and my backyard is empty. I am thankful I can visualize where I have seen “ miracles happening every day.” In my 90 years I rejoice of all I have seen
Carrie, your opening essay is luminescent, as if your pen were filled with stardust when you wrote it. As one of your other readers said, “Wow!" Just wow! And thank you...
Reading about the blanket of stars brought to mind two things. First, since I moved to my current residence, I am able to see stars easily just looking out my patio door. Not the blanket you experienced but enough to satisfy this city girl's need for connection with the universe. The second thing that came to me is that when I go to my inner space of connection with the universe, and send Light out into this troubled world, my image is being with the Light of the stars holding the space for Love and Peace.
The image of the blanket of stars also brings to mind a story I connected with many years ago about the Kaballistic view of the creation of the world. As the story goes, when God was creating Light, He poured the Light into glass vessels. The Light was so intense the vessels shattered. The shards of glass represent our individual souls. Judaism has an important concept called Tikkun Olam. This translates to Repairing the World. On the physical level, I believe it explains the call for so many to try to repair the world via social action. But on the Spiritual level, I believe it means we all "repair" our individual souls, merging into that Light again so that Loving and Light will prevail over darkness and fear. Namaste.
As much as I love your music, and I do love it dearly, I am beginning to think that you are an even more wonderful writer. Such beautiful language. “Under that dome of heaven, beneath bolts and bolts of celestial fabric tossed like a twinkling blanket over the wide shoulders of the world, I thanked The Astronomer for dumping oceans of stars into the cosmos, and that I, small and brief as I am, was allowed to spend time beneath such wonder.”
Her hooked beak directed into the wind; she hovers effortlessly in a single spot. Searching the ground fifty feet below her, she descends slowly by simply straightening the ends of her wings. I have stirred a rodent from the high grass with my field mower and she wants to use it to feed her chicks. They wait anxiously in the nest nearby. As I come around the corner for another straight-line pass on the big field, she lifts off. She carries a tuft of grass in her talons along with her babies’ next feast. In flight, her defining red tail shouts this bird’s name.
I am joined by a squadron of blue aerobats. Their tails are forked and their backs are colored royal blue. Chestnut undercarriages flash as they swoop and swirl to catch the myriad of flying insects who are abandoning the grass in droves, with each pass of my mower.
For a few minutes, I am in fear of some sort of collision. The Barn Swallows are everywhere at once and I visualize bird on bird crashes or bird to tractor disasters. I am surprised that one of the lightening fast wingers hasn’t hit me yet.
So, this is chaos theory. Since they fly like bats, I wonder if they have echo location like their bug eating brethren.
I calm down. These flyers would be the envy of the most expert Navy pilot. We co-exist and do a very complex dance. They stay with me as I go up and down and around and around again.
The Hawk returns and lands on the fragile top branch of a Pear tree thirty feet tall. I look up at her and playfully flash a peace sign. She turns her beautiful fierceness toward me and I nod and smile. We reach a symbiotic accord. I will free up more food for her to feed her family and she will let me watch her perform her expert flying and hunting.
She remains on her perch, displaying a patience that the wildest of creatures possess.
This is my church. Surrounded by huge trees and undulating grasslands. Birds and beasts who will show me their world.
Jeff, minutes ago I commented on a different thread that you should write your own Substack page…now the universe has gifted me this entry of yours and I am convinced I was correct with my first comment!!!!…..”she remains on her perch, displaying a patience that the wildest of creatures possess”…lovely
Seeing stars is such a gift! Seeing them in the Andes has to be a lifetime memory! Thanks for sharing it!
I can still remember 50+ years ago driving with a college pal across the "wilds" of Colorado. We stopped to stargaze when it seemed like the sky was going to burst with stars. When you see the star output in a dark sky you never forget it.
So, thank you for the opportunity to share an old story. Now I will look for that grace note to tuck in my pocket. Thank you as well, Carrie, for sharing your wonder with us. Always a gift.
My grandfather died close to my birthing due date. Because of the stress, my mother was induced. If I survived, then good. If I did not, she had 2 other mouths to feed already and her dad was dying of cancer. When I was born (and fought to survive) he named me. I have an affinity towards him and tell this story of his good natured mischief and kind heart. As general secretary to the YMCA, he moved from town to town to raise funds to build a YMCA. He would start at ground breaking and end with the dedication. In Beverly, Mass. he was there for the dedication and so was the President of the United States, President Taft (who summered in Beverly). After the ceremony they all joined the president for a black tie even complete with top hats. Just before dinner, by grandfather quietly walked by the president and slipped some silverware into his pocket! Then he went to the waitstaff young man and said, "Sir, I believe that gentleman, (pointing at the president), just slipped some silver into his pocket. I think you should confront him." The young lad walked over shaking in his shoes the whole time, and when he got to the president, he said, "Sir, I am going to have to ask you to turn out your pockets. We are missing some silverware." The president looked shocked but reached into his pocket to turn it out for the young man, and felt the familiar feeling of silver. He immediately turned to my grandfather, smiled and pointed, and said simply, "You!" Fortunately for my grandfather, who I assumed had a relationship with the president, all was in good humor. I love him for his mischief and good natured fun, something I have exemplified. I carry him in my bones.
I think this is my favorite of all your wonderful essays. Thank you.
“Gathering of Spirits” - a not so old song- never fails to give me pause, to remember the good, wise, hardworking women in my family who made their way into a new world and a new way of being empowered with determination. Mamoo, my grandmother, worked miracles with the what life presented. Stars. Glimmering stars. Promises and Possibilities. I remain connected.
You took me back to our backyard for the five years we lived in Estes Park, Colorado. The Rocky Mountain National Park was two miles away from our condo and we often would go into the park to savor the night sky. And the wildlife… Elk herds at the church, elk and deer in our neighborhood… the occasional bear, bobcat, or coyote wandering past… it was wonderful! Thank you, Carrie!
Teri I lover your comment. I had the joy of living in Green Valley for 17 years. A place were I experienced a miracle every day. Nor I live in Texas in a rental and my backyard is empty. I am thankful I can visualize where I have seen “ miracles happening every day.” In my 90 years I rejoice of all I have seen
So beautiful thank you
Carrie, your opening essay is luminescent, as if your pen were filled with stardust when you wrote it. As one of your other readers said, “Wow!" Just wow! And thank you...
Thank you so much, Parker! That means the world to me.
Reading about the blanket of stars brought to mind two things. First, since I moved to my current residence, I am able to see stars easily just looking out my patio door. Not the blanket you experienced but enough to satisfy this city girl's need for connection with the universe. The second thing that came to me is that when I go to my inner space of connection with the universe, and send Light out into this troubled world, my image is being with the Light of the stars holding the space for Love and Peace.
The image of the blanket of stars also brings to mind a story I connected with many years ago about the Kaballistic view of the creation of the world. As the story goes, when God was creating Light, He poured the Light into glass vessels. The Light was so intense the vessels shattered. The shards of glass represent our individual souls. Judaism has an important concept called Tikkun Olam. This translates to Repairing the World. On the physical level, I believe it explains the call for so many to try to repair the world via social action. But on the Spiritual level, I believe it means we all "repair" our individual souls, merging into that Light again so that Loving and Light will prevail over darkness and fear. Namaste.
I love the concept of Repairing the World! Thank you for sharing this. I’m going to try to do some more reading about this idea.
I wrote something about this year's ago that I'm happy to share with you. Check out the 16th Century Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria.
Oh I felt like I was right there with you in the stories you told. So beautiful and I thank you.
As much as I love your music, and I do love it dearly, I am beginning to think that you are an even more wonderful writer. Such beautiful language. “Under that dome of heaven, beneath bolts and bolts of celestial fabric tossed like a twinkling blanket over the wide shoulders of the world, I thanked The Astronomer for dumping oceans of stars into the cosmos, and that I, small and brief as I am, was allowed to spend time beneath such wonder.”
Just wow.
Gosh. Thank you Michael. That means a lot to me.
file:///var/mobile/Library/SMS/Attachments/75/05/AEB291E3-6B11-4A4B-A4E8-654A9809BF4D/FullSizeRender.HEIC
Hearts 💙feathery clouds ☁️ ~shimmering water 💧
Ephemeral gifts abound💙☁️💧
Her hooked beak directed into the wind; she hovers effortlessly in a single spot. Searching the ground fifty feet below her, she descends slowly by simply straightening the ends of her wings. I have stirred a rodent from the high grass with my field mower and she wants to use it to feed her chicks. They wait anxiously in the nest nearby. As I come around the corner for another straight-line pass on the big field, she lifts off. She carries a tuft of grass in her talons along with her babies’ next feast. In flight, her defining red tail shouts this bird’s name.
I am joined by a squadron of blue aerobats. Their tails are forked and their backs are colored royal blue. Chestnut undercarriages flash as they swoop and swirl to catch the myriad of flying insects who are abandoning the grass in droves, with each pass of my mower.
For a few minutes, I am in fear of some sort of collision. The Barn Swallows are everywhere at once and I visualize bird on bird crashes or bird to tractor disasters. I am surprised that one of the lightening fast wingers hasn’t hit me yet.
So, this is chaos theory. Since they fly like bats, I wonder if they have echo location like their bug eating brethren.
I calm down. These flyers would be the envy of the most expert Navy pilot. We co-exist and do a very complex dance. They stay with me as I go up and down and around and around again.
The Hawk returns and lands on the fragile top branch of a Pear tree thirty feet tall. I look up at her and playfully flash a peace sign. She turns her beautiful fierceness toward me and I nod and smile. We reach a symbiotic accord. I will free up more food for her to feed her family and she will let me watch her perform her expert flying and hunting.
She remains on her perch, displaying a patience that the wildest of creatures possess.
This is my church. Surrounded by huge trees and undulating grasslands. Birds and beasts who will show me their world.
My heart is beating a peaceful rhythm.
Jeff, minutes ago I commented on a different thread that you should write your own Substack page…now the universe has gifted me this entry of yours and I am convinced I was correct with my first comment!!!!…..”she remains on her perch, displaying a patience that the wildest of creatures possess”…lovely
I now have my own and have posted a couple of things on it. Thank you for the encouragement.
J
Beautiful!
You write so beautifully, and your observations and stories are also like a comforting flannel blanket wrapped around me.
Thx you so much.