SuperPod! (80 sec)

Patrick Webster, who has lived near Monterey Bay for 11 years, is no stranger to sea creatures. But this week was the first time he saw the ocean “come alive,” he said.  About 1,000 dolphins were racing along the shore in a “superpod,” jumping in and out of the water while chasing baitfish. “It was one of the most amazing experiences to see the water be alive with squeaking and splashing dolphins,” Webster said. “They’ll hop up and take a look at you, and you can see they’re checking you out.” The dolphins led the boat to several whales that were lunge feeding and bubble netting, which occurs when whales blow bubbles around a school of fish to trap them. The dolphins swam in and out of the whales’ feeding area, picking up their leftovers, making for a spectacular show that Webster captured on video. “They were just going to town,” Webster said. “It’s a super big deal to see so much wildlife all in the same spot…. For the animals, it’s probably just a regular day.”

(Source: Hundreds of dolphins race along Monterey Bay in ‘superpod’, Los Angeles Times, September 7, 2018)

Sunday Morning

Holy silence is spacious and inviting. You can drink it down. We offer it to ourselves when we work, rest, meditate, bike, read. When we hike by ourselves, we hear a silence still pristine with crunching leaves and birdsong…During congregational silences, in meditation rooms or halls, in prison cells and meeting rooms, in silent confession at church, all these screwed-up people like us, with tangled lives and minds, find their hearts opening through quiet focus. In unfolding, we are enfolded, and there is a melding of spirits, a melding of times, eternal, yesterday morning, the now, the ancient, even as we meet beneath a digital clock on the wall, flipping its numbers keeping ordinary time in all that timelessness.

~ Anne LamottHallelujah Anyway: Rediscovering Mercy


Notes: Quote – Thank you Make Believe Boutique. Photo: Franziska Korries (via Newthom)

Sunday Morning

I have found such joy in simple things;
A plain, clean room, a nut-brown loaf of bread,
A cup of milk, a kettle as it sings,
The shelter of a roof above my head.
And in a leaf-laced square along the floor,
Where yellow sunlight glimmers through the door.

I have found such joy in things that fill
My quiet days: a curtain’s blowing grace,
A potted plant upon my windowsill,
A rose, fresh-cut and placed within a vase;
A table cleared, a lamp beside a chair,
And books I long have loved beside me there.

Grace Noll Crowell, from I Have Found Such Joy


Notes:

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Photo: via NewThom

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Notes: (via NewThom)

Morii

With every click of the shutter,
you’re only trying to press pause on your life.
If only so you can feel a little more comfortable moving on
living in a world stuck on play…


Source: Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Hearty Soup

Yes,
I like seven pounds of short ribs and
twenty-three cloves of garlic in barley soup.
Some will settle for less
but they’re not writing barley poems.

~ Jim Harrison, from “Courage and Survival” (Brick, November, 26, 2012)


Notes: Photo: thefoodcharlatan.com. Quote: Thank you The Hammock Papers

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

sleep-tired-fatigue-monday-morning-stephen-shore

“Insanity is ‘doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.’

That’s writing poetry, but hey, it’s also getting out of bed every morning.”

Mary Ruefle, Madness, Rack, and Honey, Collected Lectures


Notes: Mary Ruefle Quote: Austin Kleon. Insanity Quote – Albert Einstein. Photograph: Stephen ShoreUncommon Places via this isn’t happiness

 

We might lose this child

boy-clouds-reach-light

The team knows and I know that we are running out of time. The anesthesiologist looks up at me and I see the fear in his eyes. . . We might lose this child. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) is like trying to clutch-start a car in second gear—it’s not very reliable, especially as we are continuing to lose blood. I am working blind, so I open my heart to a possibility beyond reason, beyond skill, and I begin to do what I was taught decades ago, not in residency, not in medical school, but in the back room of a small magic shop in the California desert. I calm my mind. I relax my body. I visualize the retracted vessel. I see it in my mind’s eye, folded into this young boy’s neurovascular highway. I reach in blindly but knowing that there is more to this life than we can possibly see, and that each of us is capable of doing amazing things far beyond what we think is possible. We control our own fates, and I don’t accept that this four-year-old is destined to die today on the operating table. I reach down into the pool of blood with the open clip, close it, and slowly pull my hand away. The bleeding stops, and then, as if far away, I hear the slow blip of the heart monitor. It’s faint at first. Uneven. But soon it gets stronger and steadier, as all hearts do when they begin to come to life. I feel my own heartbeat begin to match the rhythm on the monitor. Later, in post-op, I will give his mother the remnants from his first haircut, and my little buddy will come out of the anesthetic a survivor. He will be completely normal. In forty-eight hours, he will be talking and even laughing, and I will be able to tell him that the Ugly Thing is gone.”

~ James Doty, MD, from “Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon’s Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart


Notes:

Listen . . . Listen . . .

hair-red-close-up

Tune to the frequency of the wood and
you’ll hear the deer, breathing; a muscle, tensing;
the sigh of a field mouse under an owl.
Now listen to yourself —
that friction — the push-and-drag,
the double pulse, the drum.
You can hear it, clearly.
You can hear the sound of your body, breaking down.
If you’re very quiet, you might pick up loss:
or rather the thin noise that losing makes — perdition.
If you’re absolutely silent and still,
you can hear nothing but the sound of nothing:
this voice and its wasting, the soul’s tinsel.
Listen . . .
Listen . . .

~ Robin Robertson, Tinsel from Sailing the Forest: Selected Poems  (Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2014 )


Notes:

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