Earlier this evening I stood on the deck overlooking the river. A sliver of moon, like a pale ivory scimitar, sought its way through tangles of bare branches in the tall sycamores on the island across from the cottage. Soon it would sink over the western horizon, leaving only the light from scattered stars to punctuate the crisp darkness.
A dozen feet away water purled over riffle stones. A good sound—the murmur of a stream at peace, neither rushing nor resting, but flowing steadily along, finding its way one bend at a time to a destination already set at birth, down a pathway as ancient as surface geography. You might even call it a happy river.
I feel small when I look at the night sky. And I feel foolish when I listen to rivers. If you want to know your real worth, look up at the stars and listen to streams. Both rearrange my personal perspective while administering a dose of humility. Oddly, I find the experience reassuring, refreshing. I can't grasp one, and I don't understand the other. But I know those stars will still be out there twinkling in night skies a thousand years from now—and I know rivers will be whispering their way from source to sea.
With me, or without me. I don't really matter; I'm not responsible.
That's comforting.
22 comments:
Enjoyed your 'Stars and Streams '
to-day ,Thanks
Evelyn .
Evelyn…
Thank you. It's a pretty day here along the river…bright sun, cloudless sky, supposed to get to 55˚F.
HI
Beautiful night sky and audio descript. I could hear your river.
I have been recovering from a bit of a relapse with the MS following a quick hitting fever with chills and aches.I looked for you to comment on my post(s) or even Facebook. :-(
Love Gail
peace.....
Gail…
I'm so sorry to hear you've been under the weather and struggling…but hope you are now on the mend to soon feeling much better. You've had more than enough to deal with these past few months.
We're just getting set to head out for a day of shopping, dinner, and a parade. Have been working inside and out all week, with eye doc appointments, blood work, writing, and several evening meetings, leaving little time for anything else. Too, we've had on again/off again internet issues, which I've yet to solve. I didn't know you'd been sick. I apologize for not writing or commenting. But I'll get onto your blog or at least FB tonight or tomorrow and try to catch up.
Take care…
Hi again, thanks Grizz. I am happy to hear form you, very happy. Enjoy your parade and dinner and shopping. I am home recouping. Had my sister's 65th b'day dinner here last night. We down-sized because I was not up to it rather than at her place with more people etc. It was very nice but I am exhausted. This set back hit me hard and fast. I am pulling out of it, slowly and regaining my leg strength. MS sucks.
Skipp is over at my Mom's place, (our new place) because the new bathroom floor and bedroom carpet is being installed. It is all re-painted and the kitchen is remodeled. It is really beautiful. Now we still have to sell this place and finish packing and sorting. Phew. Enough about me. Please s`tay close.
Love you
Gail
peace.....
AH THE MOON AND RIVER -the ebb and flow of life-brings out your poetic side-the same reason I drive up north- to wake at night and feel the calm puilse of earth it urges me to paint.happy times for both of us...
Gail…
I understand, in many ways, what you're going through…and I know how difficult it is to keep all those things going—health, move, loss, gain, family—so much to attend to and not lose your sense of perspective and wellbeing while maintaining a positive outlook. Sometimes you just want to throw your hands in the air and give up.
But that's just life…and life is no better or worse than we make it. Stuff happens. But perspective is our choice.
Easier said than done, I know.
I'm sitting here not feeling all that peachy myself. We had a good day yesterday. Spent nearly $1000 on new woodstove and fittings. Had dinner. Enjoyed our parade. This morning, our water heater appears to have gone out…at least the breaker has suddenly started kicking off. For the last couple of days, the heater has produced almost scalding hot water, though no settings had been changed. I gave it a good look earlier this morning (for what it was worth, considering my ignorance) and could find no reason. But something is obviously wrong. The unit is under five years old, too. But in my experience, when WHs start acting up, replacement is about as cheap as repairs. So here we are, a few days before Thanksgiving. Gotta have hot water. And getting this one fixed or replaced will doubtless eat up much of the Christmas budget. Which is already stretched because of medical bills and pending medical bills. Nope. Not going to be much fun these next few days. But after I whine and worry about it for awhile, I'll just buckle down and do what I have to do and we'll get through it—and somewhere on the other side of this latest mess, perspective will be restored until something else comes along. But give up? NEVER!
AfromTO…
Sometimes, some of us just need to reground our spirit. I need elemental things—earth, wind, fire, stars, moon, sky, rain, snow, birdsong, and the lilt and purl of river music. Coffee always tastes better from an enameled cup, made in my old battered pot over a campfire, with the fragrance of jackpines in the air and fresh-caught brook trout sizzling in the skillet.
Yup, that's what's necessary.
Beautifully written, Grizz, and writing like this can only flow from an experience that is equally sublime. Happy Thanksgiving to you, your Ladylove, and Moon the Dog.
George…
This week has had both trials and joys…but tonight there's a hearthfire burning, Myladylove has been baking pies, I've been readying fresh cranberries, plus cutting and chopping up onions and celery for tomorrow's cornbread stuffing—doing whatever prep work I can for tomorrow's feast. The day has been lovely. And lots of things I feared wouldn't work out have somehow been resolved. Everything is good.
The stars are still up there and the river is flowing along it shining pathway to the sea. My life has love and peace. I'm truly thankful.
I hope all is just as good for you and yours, my friend. I hope your heart knows peace and joy and love. And I hope you have a truly blessed Thanksgiving.
Grizz,
I realize I haven't answered your letter but oh, how I heard it.
You came to mind on this day... you who find Thanksgiving all year long and share it.
Thank you and Happy Thanksgiving to you, your Lady and the ever shining Moon.
Scribe--when I step out each night to accompany the dog on her final evening stop, I look up at the sky. I am always struck by the seeming infinitude of the starry heaven. Does the universe really go on forever? And if it does, how?
Oh, the questions that staring at a starry sky can inspire in a person!
Robin…
What a sweet and lovely comment. Thank you.
I know it isn't always true of me—though it is my desire and intention; but I regularly fail often. I just hope not for too long. Even in the midst of my latest woes—mostly minor—after I've wallowed a bit, I drag myself back and consider this latest rough patch against all the good things in my life, the positives, all my gifts, what I do have, all that has gone right…and it's immediately obvious how, on the whole, I've been overwhelmingly blessed.
It's not just is my cup half empty or half full? It's the realization I at least have a cup. "Let not you heart be troubled…" is one of those Scriptures that's often quoted, and often ignored.
It's easy for me to become a practically world-class worrier. But I've never been able to worry myself out of a bad situation. Fear and insecurity, worry, doubt, all those negative things can eat you alive, keep you from overcoming and succeeding, and rob you of joy and happiness. We pre-plan, make schedules, and like to believe we're in total control. but this is life. Stuff happens…good and bad. Sometimes the only thing we can control is our attitude. And that's easier said than done. But I try my best to maintain a merry heart. And I try to share the wonder and beauty and delight of life with everyone I meet, because I've come to appreciate the truth in that old saying that happiness shared is happiness doubled. I truly do try and greet each new day with a heart of Thanksgiving, for I am indeed thankful to simply see another dawn…and having begun so positively, the tally sheet is already going the right way. Moreover, I hope that spirit comes through in every word I speak or write, every photo I make, every action and interaction in which I'm involved. Thanksgiving all year long? Oh, yes, I surely hope so!
Re. that letter…not a problem. I figure you'll write when you want, comment or not on whatever, or we'll just move on to the next subject. A confortable conversation between friends, okay?
KGMom…
Oh, yes, looking up at a night sky laced with stars not only cuts one down to their properly inconsequential size, but it invariably raises some of the weightiest of questions—scientific, theological, perhaps historical, philosophical, and sociological. It shifts perspective, revealing more that we can ever comprehend, while pointing out the sum total of mankind's knowledge does not even now equal a fraction of a percent of those things yet to learn.
Besides that refreshingly humbling experience, a night sky swarming with stars is simply profoundly beautiful—especially if you're somewhere really remote and dark, with a clear night, and the Milky Way cutting it's great lighted swath overhead. That's one of the things I so love about the northcountry, along the shores of Lake Superior, or seen from atop the high peaks of the southern Appalachians.
I was just reading an article/ watching a video, mopped up some tears and decided to see if you had found my comment.
Well, you had and you responded.
This is the quote that led me into the aforementioned article/video and I guess, subconsciously to you...
“When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself.” -Tecumseh, Shawnee leader
I think you must be my human Hawk. From now on, I will wake... find the morning light, and start from there.
Thank you.
Robin…
I understand, and am honored by such a notion…even if, at best, I'm a lesser Hawk. But you'll certainly never regret doing your best to follow Tecumseh's advice. Incidentally, Tecumseh was born beside a spring located perhaps a dozen miles as the crow flies from where I now sit…a spot I've been to a number of times. It is said he was born under the sign of a falling star or meteor that burned across the dark March sky. This is the heart of Shawnee country. Tecumseh was a unique and charismatic man, in many ways a leader beyond his time, and rightly revered still.
What is that spot like now, Grizz?
Robin…
Tecumseh was born just north of the present town of Xenia (pronounced Zing-ya), close to an area known as Old Town. Indeed, as you drive north on Rout 68 between Xenia and Yellow Springs, near Old Town (not quite a wide spot in the road, just a house or two and, oddly, a motel) there's a little park and soccer field with a plaque which says something like "Near here, the great warrior chief Tecumseh was born…" But the truth—and the actual spring—is about a half mile back to the south, on the grounds of the Ohio Department of Natural Resources's District Five Field Office…where its still bubbling waters feed a holding pond for newly hatched fish—usually, if memory serves, saugeye—awaiting some fingerling stocking program. So the spring is still there, still going, and sorta natural looking—but surrounded by various buildings.
Incidentally, there's an incredible amount of misinformation out there regarding Tecumseh—starting with his birth site. Some texts say he was born near a place called Chillicothe, the name of a Shawnee village. And also the name of a current small city in southeastern Ohio, and once the capital city of the state before Columbus was built. Also the place where the outdoor drama, Tecumseh!, is held during the summer. (A really neat show, BTW.) But there were several historical Shawnee villages named Chillicothe, at least four or five, and today's Chillicothe is not the Chillicothe close to which Tecumseh was born. That would have been the Chillicothe that's now the Old Town above. At the time of his birth, Tecumseh's parents were actually trying to reach a Shawnee village a few miles to the north, near old Fort Pickawillany, which itself was close to current Piqua. But though Tecumseh's family had only a dozen or so miles yet to go, babies come when they will, and so they had to stop for the night near the spring. And excellent book, in my mind the most accurate of the lot, is the Tecumseh biography by Allen W. Eckert.
Thank you, Grizz. I did enough sleuthing to see that his birthplace was in question, but I believed you knew what you were talking about (and rightly so). I figured the area was fairly well populated. Thanks for describing it for me and the book referral.
Robin…
There's just so much garbled, misunderstood, and just plain wrong information re. Tecumseh—especially as it pertains to his birth and death, but also many of the quotes attributed to him—that you really have to wade deep to get as close as possible to the truth. Nowadays, more so than ever before, people writing "historical" biographies have agendas, often hidden or at least underlying agendas—religious, political, social, geographic, ethnic, even historical…agendas in which they pick and choose, and sometimes skew or even invent facts and events to suite their purpose and preconceived direction. Tecumseh is a prime example—perhaps the "poster child"—in this day and age of political correctness, social apologists, and historical revisionism, and anyone seeking to come close to the truth to the real person needs to choose their biographers with great care. And still read extensively on all aspects just to be able to recognize invention, hogwash, and shoddy research when you encounter it.
I knew Eckert, know the decades and reams of primary source material he spent before doing his book. I know—or at least have met—several of the other Tecumseh biographers, and more importantly, I have some insight into how they worked, gathered material, choose what to include and what to question. And finally, I've talked with members of the Shawnee nation who have read and know something about Tecumseh from their heritage sources. Was Tecumseh born near that particular spring during a night when a shooting star blazed across the sky? Almost certainly.
After being killed during the Battle of the River Thames in Canada, on October 5, 1813, rather than allow their great warrior chief to be buried in a mass grave, Tecumseh's body was taken away during the night by members of his tribe and kept in a secret burial place. For many years Tecumseh's bones had no permanent resting-place. Although they were moved several times, there was always someone who knew where they were. The location of this place was passed down through the generations of Shawnee elders. One of those who helped spirit the body away from the battlefield at Moraviatown, was "Oshawana" (John Nahdee), Tecumseh's chief warrior at the Battle of the River Thames. He is said to have buried Tecumseh's bones on St. Anne Island and, when he died, passed on the knowledge of the location. These are supposedly the bones that members of the Soldier's Club, having themselves served in the Great War of 1914 under the same flag as Tecumseh, raised funds and used, in 1931, to see that Tecumseh was honorably buried, and his grave marked with a simple monument, on Walpole Island, at the junction of the main road to the Island and River Road, overlooking the St. Clair River. Is this true? The monument is indeed there…but are Tecumseh's the bones in the grave below? I'd say possibly, even a little more likely than unlikely. On this Allen Eckert and I disagreed; he thought the location of the bones remained known only to a few Shawnee members…or that they had been forever lost. Which is believed by some Shawnee members I've spoken with, though others say the "keeper" still knows the secret location, and others side with the Walpole Island site.
There's simply less primary source evidence on the burial place than the birth place. I feel confident on the latter. (Yeah, doubtless way more info than you wanted or needed. But I just thought I'd give you the why and how, as well as the what.)
Never, ever, ever too much information. Thank you.
Robin…
Good. I'm relieved. I tend to ramble, digress, and spew…and doubtless over-inform. Writer's block—at least writing at length—has never been an issue.
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