Simple Spring Snow
As the heavens poured out the white, winter, down-duvet-split-open-softness on to our heads and campsite and woods the colours and light danced so quietly
as my boots crunched, the water gurgled and Karin’s beer spray protected us all from invisible rye and malt humour.
So is the bed of peace and hope.
There are a few children missing, but nothing more than what is being done can be done. So pray with us, for us, for them.
There are views of life that are so subtly similar, yet a step to the right, left or ahead provide a completely different perspective, seeing in through the cracks that are in everything the light that is Grace and Hope.
The Trees, alive with light on the walk out of the warmth into the wilderness.
Water the source of life, the wonder of life, the beauty of life. Green. Why?
Not because it’s cold, but because it is not cold enough to keep the glaciers from melting.
Glowing, white streams in the green of gorgeous. Can you see it here, too?
The River looking onto it from various points, perspective that changes light and subject, all the same yet completely different.
Turtles, of the snacking kind were at the table the night before, and here they appear again, a bit molded and quiet, looking not to be eaten anymore.
The soft look of fallen snow and fog on the mountains beyond the river.
Rocks … below and …
Rocks below … and …
Rocks beyond …
The River Upstream
Turning 180°
More turtles and …
Rocks and …
Rocks and …
Rocks and …
Rocks … until …
There are no more rocks in view as one looks downstream to Pyramid Mountain.
The path back to coffee and breakfast.
As the snow hangs tight but loosened by melting, waffles wait with syrup from trees and butter enough.
The light and the drips of water frozen in place the evening before.
I simply returned to a sunset over familiar territory, wishing it would be well, all well, most marvelously well, again.
The sun disappeared early behind some clouds and I ran to catch the light before it was all gone. Just minutes after the first this was so different.
Out on the lake the melt of the last few days have recorded every vehicle’s path and movement, soon enough to all disappear into the liquid of the returning lake water.
The expanse of light reflecting ice tracks under the wedge of broken clouds held one in awe, that this light was available all around.
And then this is truly all around.
One can of course play, and playing create something not real, but at least a bit interesting.
Walking on Water
Year in and out after the lakes freeze solid enough we all can walk on water, or ice.
But the spring days when a melt is on and the ice is still VERY thick, though covered with water, the ability to walk on real water, with ice beneath it by a few inches is simply that much more delightful.
The light at sunset after a hard day working give opportunity to see the light from above and below, and behind the grasses standing tall even after a long winter.
Threesome.
More some.
My perfect lodging for the evening, to stay in the clear air, watch the lake at night, and sleep in the great quiet. Later when it warms the beach will be crowded, but for now … solitude.
There are moments that become available just because one seeks some fresh air for a night.
The landmarks stay the same, the fog and light shift as the sunrises.
Moving The Front Door
And it is just outside our door, because we can haul the front door around behind the truck, along with a bed, table, stove, fridge and even a kitchen sink. A bit much for a guy who loved backpacking into the outback where no one else ventured to disturb a good night’s rest. Now we haul a toilet and electricity with us, not least of all to power a 27 inch screen to edit photos on.
Luxury. Well it may easily become my home permanently, so not really, not at -40° and +35° C.
GrasslandsOrange TreesTracksFogDriven to the SunriseFog Rolls HighWider Higher Deeper … Breathe …Looking Back to the South
So it took a few days to catch up to put these on the blog.
I wake on this day so long in coming, and out the door I step with bathrobe, boots, parka, hat, gloves, and camera, to the stillness of heart, mind and world that only the wilderness can afford.
Only the quiet of nothing brushing across the freshly sunlit snow
Fallen the last few days to bring spring to an end
And the wonders of winter covering like a blanket of frozen breath what once whispered a promise of green buds, bird songs, and mosquitoes.
Let the chill keep the bugs at bay for another week or more, a month or three as is seasonally to expect.
Here the water flows despite the minus 25 degrees Celsius.
The sun is warm on the trees and behind them sparking anticipation of a full bright day after three of clouds and snow drab grey.
The right to be at peace, not to have people lie about who you are or what you’ve done, to not be at war, to know through and through that God loves you, to have a small plot of land – say 20 square miles, or even 164 acres, or 23.5, or 9.7, or 5.3 … and be able to live in peace, and greet people with a smile, stay warm in the cold, and cool in the heat and fed in the famines, and to drink water clear each day, and to breath fresh air.
For me it is to find the snow crunch cold a delight, and the view on top a mountain that points you in all directions so high, and to turn the wing among the clouds or loop and roll under the popcorn spotted blue sky, or between the crags of the mountains, or to sit beside the rushing river … safe
From the natural power of all that which can kill, most of all the tongue that does not know how to speak from reality because fear has tossed wild emotions and swings into the face of grace and love turning it into a dance to avoid the landmines and explosions and having yet something else taken from one.
To be in peace, to give peace, to meet fears and lies with grace … this is the promise yet to come to be.
For small things, like biking the ice, breathing clear air, basking in the warm sun, contributing to making the world a better place for everyone and carrying a camera to catch the wonders of light playing the broad ivory of ice and snow, quaking beneath to remind one that also this is not truly solid, but for now (post -30) it is sufficiently safe and solid.
The wonder is that more would not venture to bask in the warmth.
What is -11 after -30, but warm.
Where is light, after the dark, but across the horizon to the nearest step.
It’s a Little Cold Out
As I write this the temperature has dropped to minus 27 Celsius and it’s going to continue dropping says the forecast until it’s minus 30.
I did survival training years ago NW of Hinton. We mimicked what it would be like to be downed in an airplane with passengers needing to survive for 36 hours. Tea, the first medicine after the physical injuries were tended to, and then build a shelter for the night. Minus 20 the first night with a partner. Minus 30 the second night, solo. Third night was an all-natural shared shelter for everyone except the instructors, who slept next to a wood stove in a full shelter.
After the last night, of smoke from the shared fire, and little sleep, the thermometer was pegged below minus 40 on my rotary thermometer the next morning a few hours after sunrise.
So yesterday at minus 21, with camera in hand, with a down parka zipped up, a wool hat, simple jeans, warm boots and light enough gloves to feel the camera easily … and a great tripod, I simply enjoyed the ventures out from the warm vehicle to capture these precious photos, a profound beauty and reminder of days before the current hell I’m caught in and working to save others more vulnerable.
It’s not that it was terrific then, it’s just purgatory was decidedly not like this, and despite any temperature, what I’m working to set right, who I’m having to work to keep safe, or at least mitigate permanent damage to, the vulnerable, this kind of hell just does not seem to know beauty or truth or faith or love or hope or … well in a word, this hell has no place for the beauty of grace, the grace that saves us all.
So here they are in the same silence that I encountered them, absolute silence, with only the squeak and press of snow stepped into and upon, and breath … o precious breath that only now I have again … o precious breath that now again I have so that I can speak … well sort of.
Enjoy the beauty: for this cold is not hell, it is simple beauty, without flies or bites, a beauty that permeates everything.
Enjoy the beauty: for this as God created it and us to be; still standing, even through the hell and the cold.
These are dedicated to my little sister, who made photography for me a shared joy. She was always better than she knew.
Each one entered a simple game to surrender to what cannot be forced against a ball and a pin with a club
But like in life one surrenders to what one is called to be and do
Profound or not
To see
Mystically
What
Is
There
But
Others
Cannot
Know
For it is what one alone sees
…
The Light of Grace
…
Yet there was for so many so little
So little that can be done when all that is
is loss.
So we remember.
For generations there were always many who suffered at the hands of others looking to move ahead
At the cost of
Those around them …
…
And who betrayed those closest to them in order to get ahead as their loved one is left vulnerable
Because the beloved could not face the reality of the world that they created out of a profound fear of the light leaving them alone
So they attack
And whip others into a frenzy to attack their loved one for fictitious events
And the loved one is
Charged
Ruined
Left as good as dead
In the dark
Alone
Once again paying the price for being the one that loved unconditionally, and loves unconditionally.
So we remember.
Fortunately the darkness will not continue to overwhelm and leave one to die
For this day we remember that the Light breaks in
Through
All
That
Is broken
Spreading against all fears
Especially the imaginary ones of abandonment that haunt
Those
Who attack at all costs to save themselves from imaginary enemies projected onto their scapegoat.
So we remember
The Light
Loves unconditionally and inspires
Simple statements of truth:
“The success of love is in the loving – it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done.”
“Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired.”
Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light, Brian Kolodiejchuk, 2007
While seeking health and hope and renewal this was possible to capture the light from:
Big Horn Sheep Looking
To what do you aspire?
Where are you looking this day?
What hope carries you
Through the darkness
Into the light
That arrives through the cracks of life and being and love itself?
So we remember that
As for me and my household we will serve the Lord,
For by grace alone are we able to stand when we are alone in the darkness waiting for the Light of truth and justice to arrive.
So we remember
That
There
Is
Light.
Can you remember?
Can you see?
Do you remember the light of unconditional love?
It is Epiphany,
The day we remember
That the Light of Grace, Truth and Love
Illuminates every darkness
From the spark
Within
The
Holy Ones
…
Saints made by grace from Sinners, yet always both simultaneously.
This we remember
Is
How
God’s
Grace
Is
For
Everyone
Even those
Who ruin
Their loved ones betrayed.
Can you remember this in your darkness?
What makes up your darkness this day of Light?
Whoever you are, the Light shines in the darkness,
So dance a dance of hope.
“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”
Saint Mother Teresa: Something Beautiful For God, Malcolm Muggeridge, 1971
And what is between you and God is not that you need to think, believe, speak, write, do or not all that is right for God,
But that because God has long since done everything right with you,
And made you
A Saint always, even as you remain always a Sinner
And not having to earn God’s unconditional love
What will you do this day? Or any day,
Other than to respond to the greatest news
That the world has or will ever hear
…
How will you approach each day?
Why other than
To seek justice when it is impossible, for it is already given to you.
To speak truth when it will never be heard, for even before you were born it was heard from your lips, between the cries that wrack your life unpredictably, unwanted, to not be denied.
To offer grace even though the response is cruel, for only by grace are you still standing.
To love unconditionally even though those loved are inseparably exiled from your love, protection and security, for already unconditional love met you and carried you each day past, present and future.
To find joy even though it has been ripped from your heart by jailers and rules, for the Ruler and Jailer has already met you with a joy in you, specifically you, and all that makes up you.
For you have been accepted as you are, equipped as a Saint, a person through which the Light shines.
So Shine even when it is declared that Darkness will not be denied.
Justice, truth, grace, unconditional love, joy, and shining Light:
This is what we are made to be made of.
This is our Game, no matter the goals we take on, this is our Game,
Which cannot be won by other than surrendering to what is,
With frank words that may relieve the comfortable of their abusive power
And bring comfort to those abused by being relieved of all power
And
Set right what is wrong,
Bring light to what is hidden in darkness,
And bring hope to those daring to expect, and hope, against all the evidence of this world.
Clouds Dance at Their Time
Here it is quiet
As snow and ice eat all waves
Of water
And sound
And one walks without miracle
On water,
Miraculous that one is still able to walk,
With or without the blessings of holy
Water
And
Being.
And the time to leave
Crawls up on the interloper
As the sun wanes, and is blown down the side of the side to its depths of hours long
Awaiting its rise
As
A
New
Last
Day
Arrives
So is the bed of peace and hope.
