Saturday, December 13, 2014
GETTING IN TOUCH WITH NATURE (www.gettingintouchwithnature.com)
I don't use Blogger much anymore. I post some of my nature photography at www.gettingintouchwithnature.com.
FOR ALL THE ANIMALS (www.foralltheanimals.com)
I've not written on this blog in years. Check out www.foralltheanimals.com to see what the latest is.
Monday, December 28, 2009
ON SIMPLICITY
“I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” Pablo Picasso
POSTED IN MY BLOG IN SEPT 2009 ON LIVEHONESTLY.COM
My 4-yr old granddaughter took this of me
I don’t know if where I’m at in my life is some sort of phase or if it’s more permanent. I’ve been downsizing my life for the past decade. I’m not much of a consumer these days at all. I don’t have the want to buy ‘things’. I own a few pairs of shoes. They’re all comfortable. I’ve gotten very simple. My wardrobe is simple. I cut my own hair. (And color it myself.) I don’t have my nails done or get pedicures. (It’s very obvious too.) But that’s okay.
I drive a 13-year old car that just turned over 209,000 miles complete with dents, faded paint and seat covers that could use refurbishing, but it gets 40 – 43 miles per gallon on the highway. Imagine that! I LOVE that it gets such awesome mileage for an old beater!! I don’t ever want to own a vehicle that gets less mpg than that.
Tiny creek on my land (better than looking at my car)
More about what my car is not. It’s not a keyless entry. It’s not electric anything. The windows have to be manually rolled up and down. To adjust the seats they have to be scooted by physical force. It has no sunroof. No heated seats. But I love my junkard, nonetheless. Mostly, I love that it gets such great mileage. That’s hugely important to me. It’s the number one thing I would look for in a new purchase. I love that it cost only $2,200 five years ago. I love that I have no car payment. My insurance is less than $30 a month. I never worry about it getting scraped or dented. So when I get into my scruffy little car I don’t see its flaws. I see what it has given me (just multiply a monthly car payment for the last five years - 60 months - and see how much money you’d save), and I appreciate what it continues to give me: reliable, cheap andrelatively environmentally friendly transportation.
Took this yesterday
Granted… I have to accept not having a ‘better’ car because I don’t have the money to upgrade. But I have actually lost the need or better yet, the want – this is the important point -- to own a new or newer, gorgeous, tricked out, status symbol vehicle. I used to have an almost new Chevy Blazer with leather seats, compass/temperature gauge, and electric everything. I liked it a lot. (I wish it would've handled the road better though.) At the time, I had the money to buy it. And after buying it, I never envisioned myself in less. But things change. I changed. It’s interesting to ponder…. And, by the way, I’m fine with people who have the money to buy beautiful cars -- if they get good mileage. I get it. I do. I’m just not there anymore. And I like not being there. In fact, if I won the lottery, a new car would not be one of my first purchases, or even on my top ten list. I would probably buy a motorcycle and for sure start a non-profit organization.
forest floor
Here’s something rather ironic. I called the Mazda company the other day (that’s what my car is) and asked what cars they currently have on the market that get the same or better mileage than my little Protégé. (After all, it does have 209K + miles on it.) Get this! They don’t even make a car that gets the mileage this old 1996 gets! How can that be? How can they make cars after 1996 that would get LESS mileage?? It’s almost 14 years later. Come on! How can that be? Grrr! That thought frustrates me so much….. I better go “ommmmm” myself… meaning take some deep breaths and meditate away that stressful concept.
Onto some fun ....
Onto some fun ....
I woke up to frost again this morning. I was up by 6:30. It was below freezing even at 8 a.m. I went camera hunting a couple of hours later and was focused on this Gray Headed Junco grooming (photo on left). Out of the corner of my eye something caught my attention....
I looked up the road to my right and it was this Mule deer (I don't think I need a capital "M" do I?) grazing. It wasn't far from my cabin. He didn't notice me at first, but then my sound (perhaps the camera clicking away) startled him...
I've said it before... the animals are often curious about me. He not only looked at me he actually started walking toward me. I counted three steps.. ! The 3rd step startled me a little. I was wondering how far he'd go...
But he stopped and when his curiosity was satisfied he turned and hopped off...
Scaredy Cat went "walking" with me again this morning. She follows me the way a dog does. Sometimes she's hopping behind me, then other times she flies off and returns a bit later. She's getting to where she'll hop on my finger without the prompt of food. Yesterday I began to pet her a little. I find the whole experience fascinating. I don't take any of it for granted.
A before picture
In addition to cutting my own standing dead trees, I've had to buy chopped wood for the winter. I simply don't have the time or energy to cut it all by myself. Here's a pile of wood delivered last night. Should be two cords. I've split about 1/4 of it with my new wood splitter today. It's still a lot of work, but it beats chopping all of it by hand! How's this for a small world? The guy who delivered it (I found an ad in the newspaper) went to school with my son...
Here's Scaredy Cat after I split wood.... she's always watching what I'm up to....
Here's what Scaredy Cat had been watching me do. She was perched on top the log sitting on the splitter...
You can't see him, but Clark is on the railing and is heading for my window again! He knocks like he's a little whacko...
Clark was watching me with Scaredy Cat and for weeks now he just knocks on my windows. He often knocks on the second story windows. I coaxed him down with a nut but then he went right back up to knock some more.
I saw a Steller's Jay today in my yard. It was the most gorgeous blue. I used to have one that would also knock on windows for nuts, but then he would be fine once he got fed. He never did what Clark is doing. This summer, I've only seen a Stellar Jay 3 times. I went to grab my camera but he was gone before I returned. Darn! He was so beautiful. I hope I can capture him on film before too long.
TAUGHT TO KILL
TAUGHT TO KILL
by Betsy Seeton
This was just before the historic peace agreement was signed. I was living in Nepal at the time and was on my way to a river trip near the Tibet border. An agreement with the teen soldier was struck and our bus moved on, but the image of this young boy was burned into my memory and singed my heart. It prompted me to learn more.
When people roll their eyes at these tough issues or get that glassy 'feigned interest' stare when I get on my soap box about the ills of human trafficking or child soldiers, I turn to my website and write as if people do care; as if people might actually read this. It helps to never lose hope that change can come. It also helps to witness change in the making. If you’re reading this, know that you’re a part of that change simply because you care enough to listen.
Beneath the layers of our western culture, of what can arguably be called a life of great over indulgence and self absorption, I believe most people would stop bad stuff from happening if they felt like they could. They just don’t know how. I get that. I also get that the world's troubles are overwhelming and our own lives present plenty of challenges. But, and this is important, but we must try to inspire change and be part of the change because we’re all interconnected and we are all affected by the injustice in this world. Perhaps the best reason of all is this: it’s simply the right thing to do.
Before change can be made, people must care enough to learn what’s happening. The fact is children are being forced into killing or be killed wars right this minute.
Meet Moses Rubangangeyo. At the age of 15 he was abducted by the Ugandan Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) where he served for nine years under their command. He was abducted at gunpoint from his boarding school at Gulu in the middle of the night by 29 LRA soldiers. “They attacked us, tied our hands together, and we were forced to move off into the night. After two days on the move, they gathered us together, picked two people at random – one of whom was my brother – and killed them in front of us to make sure we were too afraid to escape. Then we were beaten – each person was given 50 strokes to mark us as LRA soldiers.”
BULLS SET ON FIRE??!
Javea Bous a la Mar
"Bulls to the Sea"
Picture this. You’re in Costa Blanca Spain. It’s early September. You’re seated in a spectator stand amidst a large, drinking crowd. A man-made beach separates you and the other spectators from the open sea. A 9-day festival called Javea Bous a la Mar aka “Bulls to the Sea” honoring Our Lady of Loreto is just about to start.
You gaze out to sea while waiting for the bulls to arrive. You may or may not ask who is this “Lady of Loreto”? Loreto refers to the house in which Virgin Mary was born. The story goes that a band of angels scooped up the little house from the Holy Land, and transported it first to Tersato, Dalmatia in 1291, then to Reananti in 1294, and finally to Loreto, Italy where it has been for centuries. Popes have always held the Shrine of Loreto in special esteem, and it is under their direct authority and protection.
But if you know this little bit of history, you’re probably only a handful or less who do. No one is there for a history lesson. Yes, the festival is steeped in tradition, but that’s not the point. It’s party time. The bulls – up to six – arrive by truck and get deposited into a secured area under the stand. The fun (or if you’re the bull – the horror) is about to begin.
The bull’s horns are lit on fire followed by a single firework going off. Ah, yes, the fun of it all. The burning bull reacts the way you might imagine. He’s panic stricken, terrified, and runs from the pain of his burning horns. He’s berserk and runs out into the open sandy area, where if things aren’t bad enough, a band of local lads run around further agitating the poor beast. Their aim is to bait him to attack them near the waterfront so that he will fall into the sea. He’s not supposed to die. He’s just supposed to entertain.
Horrifically, the torture of animals as entertainment dates back thousands of years. (Look for my upcoming article about the history of circuses.) Very sadly at this year’s “Bulls to the Sea” one bull gave his last performance. A spectator reported that after one of the bull’s horns was lit it took no more than five minutes for the animal to dive into the sea, and due to his extremely fatigued state, he was unable to stay afloat and all efforts to revive it were in vain. He died in the sea.
What else is there to say? There are no words to describe this outrage. I leave you with your thoughts and possibly a little heavier heart.
One last thing. Er... make that two last things. If you want to stop this atrocity of lighting bulls on fire at festivals and bullfights, log onto Change.org and sign a petition. It’s free. It’s quick. And it has the power to carry your voice along with thousands of others to be heard by the people who can stop this. My last thought is a question. From what I read, this festival didn't always include burning the bull's horns. But how does this festival (bull burning or not) of chasing a bull to dive into the sea honor the Virgin Mary??
"Bulls to the Sea"
Picture this. You’re in Costa Blanca Spain. It’s early September. You’re seated in a spectator stand amidst a large, drinking crowd. A man-made beach separates you and the other spectators from the open sea. A 9-day festival called Javea Bous a la Mar aka “Bulls to the Sea” honoring Our Lady of Loreto is just about to start.
You gaze out to sea while waiting for the bulls to arrive. You may or may not ask who is this “Lady of Loreto”? Loreto refers to the house in which Virgin Mary was born. The story goes that a band of angels scooped up the little house from the Holy Land, and transported it first to Tersato, Dalmatia in 1291, then to Reananti in 1294, and finally to Loreto, Italy where it has been for centuries. Popes have always held the Shrine of Loreto in special esteem, and it is under their direct authority and protection.
But if you know this little bit of history, you’re probably only a handful or less who do. No one is there for a history lesson. Yes, the festival is steeped in tradition, but that’s not the point. It’s party time. The bulls – up to six – arrive by truck and get deposited into a secured area under the stand. The fun (or if you’re the bull – the horror) is about to begin.
The bull’s horns are lit on fire followed by a single firework going off. Ah, yes, the fun of it all. The burning bull reacts the way you might imagine. He’s panic stricken, terrified, and runs from the pain of his burning horns. He’s berserk and runs out into the open sandy area, where if things aren’t bad enough, a band of local lads run around further agitating the poor beast. Their aim is to bait him to attack them near the waterfront so that he will fall into the sea. He’s not supposed to die. He’s just supposed to entertain.
Horrifically, the torture of animals as entertainment dates back thousands of years. (Look for my upcoming article about the history of circuses.) Very sadly at this year’s “Bulls to the Sea” one bull gave his last performance. A spectator reported that after one of the bull’s horns was lit it took no more than five minutes for the animal to dive into the sea, and due to his extremely fatigued state, he was unable to stay afloat and all efforts to revive it were in vain. He died in the sea.
What else is there to say? There are no words to describe this outrage. I leave you with your thoughts and possibly a little heavier heart.
One last thing. Er... make that two last things. If you want to stop this atrocity of lighting bulls on fire at festivals and bullfights, log onto Change.org and sign a petition. It’s free. It’s quick. And it has the power to carry your voice along with thousands of others to be heard by the people who can stop this. My last thought is a question. From what I read, this festival didn't always include burning the bull's horns. But how does this festival (bull burning or not) of chasing a bull to dive into the sea honor the Virgin Mary??
HOMELESS IN SAN DIEGO
As I was meandering around the docks with my camera a couple of days before Christmas, I happened upon an elderly, homeless man. Something drew me to him. I can't really explain it. Never quite experienced something like it before.
He was down by the harbor sitting on a cement half wall. I sat next to him and began asking him how long he had been on the streets and what his story was. He's been in San Diego for 41 days and most of it was spent in the hospital following a stroke. He used his fingers to count the days. He had come out from North Carolina where he'd worked in the timber industry, but after some timber contracts weren't renewed, he lost his job. He also had been a cook for many years. He told me he's been homeless for about 4 years and later in the conversation it was made clear that he's NOT an alcoholic or a drinker at all.
He came out to San Diego to work on a fishing boat, but had a stroke instead. The job was filled when he got out of the hospital. He told me where he makes his bed at night and how he uses a tarp and blanket. He said he can deal with the cold, but it was the hunger that was really hard.
He said it was embarrassing to sit with a sign begging for money. He'd made 25 cents by the time I talked with him. It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The other day he had $20 accumulated and some skateboarders rode by and stole his cup.
He doesn't have any teeth and eating is hard for him. Then he added that after his stroke the doctors found out he has prostate cancer. He didn't seem to understand the impact of his illness. He said it answered why he was losing weight. But he wasn't upset. He was matter of fact like someone responding to a parking ticket. He told me people give him food sometimes and get upset with him when he can't eat it - like apples and chips. He said he ate chips the other day that cut his gums all up, yet if he turns down what people offer they chastise him and tell him he must not be very hungry. He said he guesses they figure someone hungry should have no choice. Someone gave him very spicy food the other day that made him sick because his stomach can't take it. He said he'd rather go hungry than eat something that's going to make his stomach hurt worse.
He said he doesn't make 'friends' with the others on the street because they stab him in the back and want money for booze. He proudly mentioned being Cheyenne and how his grandmother was at the Sand Creek massacre. People don't look him in the eyes and few ever talk to him. I normally don't carry cash and seldom give homeless money because I feel like it isn't truly helping them ... but this guy was different.
I dug out a $5 bill and 4 one dollar bills. I knew that he would buy a meal with it - something he could eat and would like. It was money that would make a difference. It didn't have to be money that would be a solution -- just $ that would make a difference was enough. I'd never looked at it quite that way before. The whole experience showed me a side to the homeless I'd not understood or encountered before. I've met homeless who want to be homeless and actually enjoy the culture of living on the street. Others are running scams or are some kind of addict or mentally ill. This man, for whatever series of events in his life that led him there, was different. Maybe a lot of others are different too. Hmmm..
The interesting and uplifting thing was how he was dealing with everything. He had no bitterness. He was full of God and faith. His tone, even when mentioning the hardship and how people treated him badly, was not touched with resentment. There was forgiveness in his voice. Real forgiveness. He kept saying he was okay and it wasn't all bad. He wasn't out to hurt anyone. He wasn't angry or self absorbed. He was out there with his sign asking for money for food because he saw no other way and yet he was full of forgiveness about his situation and about the people around him who were not going to help. Even when I handed him the little bit of money, he looked me in the eyes and asked, "Don't you need that?" I replied, "Not as much as you do." Only then did he reach for it. His body visibly seemed to relax. I could see relief come over him because he knew he was going to eat that day. He had missed getting a meal the day before.
As I left him, he thanked me for talking to him. He was also grateful for the money. I was left having learned about a life in someone else's shoes - someone I could have easily walked past without ever knowing. I felt grateful for the lessons and the experience.
This blog entry is from an email I wrote to a friend. I decided it was worth sharing here because it's a story about a homeless man who showed me the real spirit of Christmas ...
He was down by the harbor sitting on a cement half wall. I sat next to him and began asking him how long he had been on the streets and what his story was. He's been in San Diego for 41 days and most of it was spent in the hospital following a stroke. He used his fingers to count the days. He had come out from North Carolina where he'd worked in the timber industry, but after some timber contracts weren't renewed, he lost his job. He also had been a cook for many years. He told me he's been homeless for about 4 years and later in the conversation it was made clear that he's NOT an alcoholic or a drinker at all.
He came out to San Diego to work on a fishing boat, but had a stroke instead. The job was filled when he got out of the hospital. He told me where he makes his bed at night and how he uses a tarp and blanket. He said he can deal with the cold, but it was the hunger that was really hard.
He said it was embarrassing to sit with a sign begging for money. He'd made 25 cents by the time I talked with him. It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The other day he had $20 accumulated and some skateboarders rode by and stole his cup.
He doesn't have any teeth and eating is hard for him. Then he added that after his stroke the doctors found out he has prostate cancer. He didn't seem to understand the impact of his illness. He said it answered why he was losing weight. But he wasn't upset. He was matter of fact like someone responding to a parking ticket. He told me people give him food sometimes and get upset with him when he can't eat it - like apples and chips. He said he ate chips the other day that cut his gums all up, yet if he turns down what people offer they chastise him and tell him he must not be very hungry. He said he guesses they figure someone hungry should have no choice. Someone gave him very spicy food the other day that made him sick because his stomach can't take it. He said he'd rather go hungry than eat something that's going to make his stomach hurt worse.
He said he doesn't make 'friends' with the others on the street because they stab him in the back and want money for booze. He proudly mentioned being Cheyenne and how his grandmother was at the Sand Creek massacre. People don't look him in the eyes and few ever talk to him. I normally don't carry cash and seldom give homeless money because I feel like it isn't truly helping them ... but this guy was different.
I dug out a $5 bill and 4 one dollar bills. I knew that he would buy a meal with it - something he could eat and would like. It was money that would make a difference. It didn't have to be money that would be a solution -- just $ that would make a difference was enough. I'd never looked at it quite that way before. The whole experience showed me a side to the homeless I'd not understood or encountered before. I've met homeless who want to be homeless and actually enjoy the culture of living on the street. Others are running scams or are some kind of addict or mentally ill. This man, for whatever series of events in his life that led him there, was different. Maybe a lot of others are different too. Hmmm..
The interesting and uplifting thing was how he was dealing with everything. He had no bitterness. He was full of God and faith. His tone, even when mentioning the hardship and how people treated him badly, was not touched with resentment. There was forgiveness in his voice. Real forgiveness. He kept saying he was okay and it wasn't all bad. He wasn't out to hurt anyone. He wasn't angry or self absorbed. He was out there with his sign asking for money for food because he saw no other way and yet he was full of forgiveness about his situation and about the people around him who were not going to help. Even when I handed him the little bit of money, he looked me in the eyes and asked, "Don't you need that?" I replied, "Not as much as you do." Only then did he reach for it. His body visibly seemed to relax. I could see relief come over him because he knew he was going to eat that day. He had missed getting a meal the day before.
As I left him, he thanked me for talking to him. He was also grateful for the money. I was left having learned about a life in someone else's shoes - someone I could have easily walked past without ever knowing. I felt grateful for the lessons and the experience.
This blog entry is from an email I wrote to a friend. I decided it was worth sharing here because it's a story about a homeless man who showed me the real spirit of Christmas ...
Friday, October 9, 2009
END ANIMAL TRAFFICKING AND ABUSE
Check out my art for sale at www.livehonestly.com . This print is available for $25. Greeting cards are $6.95. Sale of my art goes toward funding the development of www.livehonestly.com fighting to end humand and animal trafficking. I took this photo in Bali and used my digital art program to paint it.
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