THE CURIOSITY OF HAVING AN ENEMY

I found out recently that I have an enemy.  I have lived a long life and never had an enemy before.  Well maybe once.  A girl in 5th grade pulled my hair so hard that I can still today conjure-up the sting on my scalp. She had told everyone that she was a princess and a friend and I made fun of her.  We were wrong and she let us know it.  I knew nothing about difficult families in 5th grade.

It's the enemy I have today that is the surprise.  It is a strange feeling to know someone who wishes to cause you emotional distress.  My grown-up experience with enemies has always been through the Psalms.  The authors of the Psalms are besieged by enemies--wicked people and liars, gossip-bearers and false tale-bearers--from whom they seek deliverance and rescue.  "Silence all my enemies and destroy all my foes." Psalm 143. 

Someone who chooses to be an enemy is deeply flawed and narcissistic. She is not used to being thwarted.  She feels superior and wrote to a colleague, "Let's get together and discuss our innate superiority."  

So, someone who decides to be your enemy has colleagues, family, maybe even followers.  But no one should waste their time this way, acting only in service to oneself no matter how cleverly disguised. 

I hope this has not happened to you. But if you have an enemy, shut the door.  The door of an enemy leads to nowhere. 

SLOW JOURNEYING THROUGH ALASKA

Glaciers, Prince William Sound

My husband and I spent many months planning what he calls our Great Alaska Adventure, June-July 2016.  We began with five nights in Fairbanks in a cabin on the banks of the Chena River.  We did everything local we could find--a Fish bake with wood-grilled salmon, wild Alaskan cod, and snow crab; a summer solstice baseball game lasting into the wee hours of the morning; a river cruise by stern wheeler; and a visit to the training grounds of the Iditarod dogsled team. We used local shuttles to get from one adventure to another.

We plunged into the scenic wilderness of central Alaska by taking the Alaska Railroad Goldstar domed train to Denali National Park.  There we hiked, rented self-drive jeeps and photo-hunted moose and the elusive Denali.  We took the same train to Anchorage and rented a car for the drive to Alyeska, a glacier-carved valley in Girdwood, Alaska.  In the midst of seven glaciers, Alyeska became our base camp for trips to Whittier and the glaciers of Prince William Sound and Seward and Resurrection Bay.

On the road 

Amazingly, we saw every single bird, fish and mammal we hoped to encounter, from moose to whales, to puffins, to otters, to seals, to birds of every variety.  The rookeries lining the cliff edges of Prince William Sound were so swirlingly noisy they outdid even the waterfalls.

Rookery, Prince William Sound

Now we monitor the Fairbanks weather and sunlight.  On December 21, the winter solstice, the sun rose at 10:50 a.m. and set at 2:41 p.m.  Three hours forty-two minutes of daylight!  There were fireworks downtown to celebrate the shortest day.  I wish we had been there.

REFLECTIONS--THE GREAT DISMAL SWAMP

We took a slow journey through the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  I've written about slow journeying before.  It doesn't take more time.  You see less, but see it closer.  Some people call this easy pace vacations, or smart travel or insight travel. Different from stealing some sightseeing time on a business trip, which most of us do when we can.  But sometimes, as we all know, less is more. Our plan this time was to stay on the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia, less than a 4 hour drive away, and meet up with old friends.  

Chesapeake Bay Beach, Virginia

Sunset over the Bay the First Night

Then cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel (17.6 miles of bridge and two one mile tunnels for shipping lanes), an engineering marvel. I'd been wanting to cross this bridge for ages.  There's no superstructure. It's low level trestle style with single tube tunnels.  The bridge begins in Virginia Beach and ends in Cape Charles by the Bay, a beautiful small town nestled in Virginia's Eastern Shore.  So worth visiting!

Then stay on Chincoteague Island, enjoy the National Wildlife Refuge, and view the wild horses on Assateague Island.  We had only 3 nights, so maybe that doesn't sound slow paced enough, but somehow it was.  An over-the-top nature experience.  Of course we saw the horses.  We caught them grazing at dusk.  I didn't get a good photo of the horses, but my snowy Egret is in a lovely setting, isn't it? More daylight. Delicate long legs on it's own slow journey. I love the reflections in the water.

Finally on the drive back we went through the Dismal Swamp on the Virginia-North Carolina Border.  It's a Coastal Plain Swamp.  These are the most wonderful photos to me.  The reflections made the swamp not dismal at all.  Buggy maybe, but so beautiful to see the clouds and trees upside down.  I read the history later.  What is amazing is that the water is only 6 feet deep.  When you are there it looks much deeper because of the reflections.  We weren't lucky enough to see otters or weasels, and didn't want to run into a black bear or bobcat.  But the birds and bald cypress were plentiful.  We enjoyed it all.  See what you think.

Canal at Great Dismal Swamp

Clouds and Trees, Dismal Swamp

Usually an upside down world connotes something stressful--politics maybe, or something askew at home or at work.  Not here.  Here the trees, clouds and water brought nothing by awe and wonder.  It seems misnamed for sure. 

SIMPLIFY YOUR LIFE BY SHEDDING WORRIES

I was in a church recently where a prayer card was handed out.  The prayer was by Thomas Merton (1915-1968)--American Catholic, mystic, Trappist monk.  Merton's prayer begins,

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.   

I do not see the road ahead of me.  

I cannot know for certain where it will end. 

Do we not all feel like this sometimes?  No idea where we're going.  No idea where our path will end.  What can we do when we feel like this?  Each of us may have a different answer.  Merton was a Christian so turned to God.  He says to his God,

"I know. . . you will lead me by the right road 

though I may know nothing about it.  

Therefore I will trust you always 

though I may seem to be lost. . . ."

This prayer helps me.  Some problems seem insurmountable don't they? We all have them.  Toxic people.  Deception or disloyalty.  Illness, aging, death.  Loss or fear of loss.  Even the young can fear growing older without the accomplishments they expected. A job, a spouse, a house, children, financial independence--each can seem out of reach.  Life has never been easy.

Would our lives be simpler, better, if we shed our worries about what we cannot change?  Experts seem to think so.  First to tackle is the PAST.  William Faulkner says "The Past is not Dead.  It's not even Past."

He is not talking about good things in our past, that is clear. But those things we wish had never happened.  

Because the past is immutable, we cannot wish actions or words away, hurt we either caused or endured.  Trauma fades, but something that devastates us fades imperfectly and not on our timetable.  We can only try to understand and fashion a narrative we can move forward with.  And as always, keep close company with those who understand and value us, whether one or many. A person, a pet, or even a memory. 

My own prayer is shorter than Merton's.  I simply ask God to help and guide me.  Or, the anonymous prayer "God be in my heart, and in my thinking."  That's it. No specifics.  No hamstringing God.  I don't have to define the problem, or fashion the solution. All I have to know is that I need help.

Of course this isn't foolproof.  Sometimes I ask too late, or with a hidden agenda.  But the gain from shedding worries about things we cannot change is immeasurable. We might call it the Peace of God.

FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT AND NATURE

"I believe in God only I spell it Nature."  So said Frank Lloyd Wright (186-1959). "Stay close to Nature. . . . It will never fail you," he told his students.

"Just connecting to beauty is consoling.  You see that people don't only make wars; they can also create great works of art."  Marieke Nijmanting

We were fortunate this winter to realize one of those life-time goals we all have. We visited Fallingwater in rural Pennsylvania.  The day was a lovely, crisp 18 degrees.  But the waterfall over which the house is built kept on flowing.  The noise of nature a constant for the people who lived there.  Somehow the freezing cold for two North Carolinians made it just that more memorable.  This picture is taken from across the creek, looking back at the cantilevers that jut out from the body of the house and follow the waterfall itself.

A fire burned in the open hearth and the furniture was swathed in fur rugs and blankets.  A true house built upon a rock. 

The shadows cast in the winter sunlight were stark with symmetry.  See how they crisscross?  It seemed like a very livable home, one that, even with the expanse of open space would cozen you in winter and free you in summer.  We were awed. 

Later in the week we went to the Guggenheim Museum across from Central Park in NYC.  It is said that Wright was inspired by the nautilus shell in designing the spiral ramp.  As someone with a twenty-year collection of sea shells, I resonated to that.  The museum seems to be a spiritual place, with rhythm and movement, unfolding like an organism.  Look at the rotunda skylight, letting in the sunshine through glass panes fashioned with the symmetry of a spider's web. 

Central to the rotunda is an Alexander Calder (1898-1976) mobile called Red Lily Pads.  After we saw it, I did some research.  It reminds many of leaves skimming a pond.  Ovoid disks floating parallel to the earth in a way that echoes the unpredictable activity of nature.  What amazingly simple beauty.  We took the elevator to the top ramp then walked slowly down, enjoying the mobile from every level.  Something millions of people from all over the world have done.

So much to be thankful for.  Great architecture and art.  The freedom to visit and enjoy it.  Armchair travel.  Photography.  The seasons.  Some days blessings abound. 

BEING UNDERSTOOD AND VALUED

A Threatening Day

Lately I have had painful thoughts.  Let's say something has happened that is very distressing.  Not just a bad day--something potentially devastating.  A breach of promise or duty, a disloyalty.  If the distress is caused by a family member, a spouse, lover or a partner our minds can race to the worst conclusions--life will never be the same, trust never regained, hurt never healed.  We are not understood or valued.  No apology will be forthcoming. The actions are defended, stonewalled.  Or, maybe, finally, "I'm sorry that I hurt you" rather than "I'm sorry that I wronged you," two very different apologies. 

What can we do in such a situation?  If we are a person of faith, what does God want us to do? If we believe that someone who owes us a duty of loyalty and honesty (as we in turn owe them) has acted in ways that make us worried, anxious, depressed, or sick in heart and body, what do we do?

One helpful idea is to listen to ourselves.  Listening to our instincts is important, especially, I think, when done while asking God for help and guidance.  The more the distressing event is unexpected, the more unprepared we are, the more important to rely upon God and our instincts to guide us.  Our instincts are on our side.

Another idea is to find someone else to listen to us.  Someone in addition to God who can face our fears and misgivings with us and help us realistically assess our perceptions.  A friend, a counselor, a member of the clergy, a physician, a trusted family member.

The best idea seems to be to talk with the person--for better or worse.  This isn't simple or without risk.  It can be an unhappy fearful road.  It can be hard when we have our fears and suspicions confirmed rather than assuaged.  But each of us deserves to know where we stand.  To decide whether to put all our efforts into love of another or faith and trust in another, talk is necessary.  How can we move forward in any direction without the most honest talk possible?  

Writing also helps.  A prayer journal perhaps, or a diary.  Writing helps us know who we are, discover what we need.  It slows us down so that we do not act precipitously. It helps us to not overreact, to be just and reasonable.  Whatever gives us space to think, to pray and to make decisions for the good of ourselves and one another is a good thing.  If we then begin to again feel understood and valued, we can offer thanks to God for helping and guiding us.

Clouds scattered, Blue Sky

SATURDAY AT THE FARMER'S MARKET

We have a wonderful Farmer's Market in Durham, North Carolina. It's in Central Park surrounded by reconverted tobacco warehouses and new condos.  Our small-town southern city is thriving.  We have aromatic food trucks everywhere.

Also, Morehead City where we live part-time and Beaufort-by-the Sea nearby have Saturday markets where I spent this Saturday morning. One vendor stood by jangled piles of jewelry she had brought back from Kenya, some fashioned from noodles that had been spoiled by weevils, now painted gold and silver.  Necklaces were a dollar, bracelets and earrings 25 cents.  Almost everyone left covered in noodles and beads.  The money went straight back to the crafters.

I bet all of us have a Farmer's Market nearby.  Even though the markets are colorful and crowded, they are also havens of respite.  Choosing the right peach or tomato keeps us in the present.  You don't have to buy too much of anything.  An outdoor market is not a place to worry.  It's a neighborly place.  Somehow the supermarket with its fluorescent lighting is not the same. Buying al fresco is like dining al fresco. 

The biggest and best outdoor market near us is the Piedmont Triad Farmer's Market, open year-round selling flowers, fruits, veggies and pork from "happy pigs."  Now that's hard to come by in North Carolina.  The fresh egg dealers even have pictures of their perky hens.  Harriet lays green eggs, Tallulah the speckled brown.

Haven't we all noticed the artistry of the farmer's displays? The jumble of colorful peppers hard and shiny, the textured cauliflowers, the fragile tomatoes.

I talked with a photographer in the Morehead City market.  She had displayed a large close-up picture of augers framed in bleached wood.  You know, those finger-tip cone-shaped swirled shells inhabited by what must be the world's tiniest carnivores.  She said, "No one sees the world the way you do."  What an encouraging thought.  So, when I got home with my treasures, I tried to create my own still-life on my windowsill.  See what you think.  Olive oil, tea kettle, eggplant, a few okra, peppers in the shadows.  What an enjoyable morning.  I wish it for everyone.