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On Seasons and Enlightenment

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

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spring 2

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Spring. The season of letting go.

 

So begins the natural year.  Rebirth.  New life.  Last years’ leaves enrich this year soil.  Last year’s blossoms have become this year’s seeds.  Nourish them. Give them room. Allow them to take root. Tend to them wisely and they will grow.

 

Now is the time to get grounded. We can start with Spring Cleaning.

 

~

 

So it’s Spring. Here in the high country it comes in small doses.  Rations.  Little tantalizing tastes. And then another snow storm hits and your world is white and you wonder if that bright green grass was just a dream…

 

Now’s the time of fixing fences, dragging pasture, shoeing horses, getting the stock (and ourselves) in shape for the work of the upcoming season, clearing trail, and up here, always gathering fire wood.

 

All that fun stuff aside, this is the time of year I’m Cabin Cleaner Extraordinaire. Not really the most romantic part of my position in life, but the true meat-and-potatoes. The part that makes the rest of it not only possible, but worthwhile. The part that’s about giving, sharing, gratitude and humility. Without which, well, what’s the point?  Self-indulgence only gets you so far.  It gets old fast.  At least, one can hope it will.

 

Anyway, we run a guest ranch. Six rental cabins. All sitting shut down, unused, gathering dust and cob webs and muddy prints and dirt from who-knows-where but there it is, for the past six months.  Each one to be transformed into spic and span, and warm and welcoming with the touch of my magic broom.

 

See?  Plenty of practice in the spring cleaning department.

 

So here I am, with a bucket and mop and wet rag, and I get to thinking…

 

~

 

About enlightenment.

 

What does cleaning have to do with enlightenment?

 

A lot!

 

First, let’s considered this. What is enlightenment?  For definition, look around at those you might consider enlightened.  Are they in one place and remaining there stagnant?  Or are they involved in a process?  I think we often look at (are told) enlightenment is one single state rather than a way of being and an ongoing journey, an evolutionary existence. Like the seasons, a continuum of birth, growth, death, transformation, rebirth.

 

We look to authorities for the answers, when they are within us and around us all along.  Learn to listen. Quietly. To the sound of rain on soft spring soil and the rustle of newly emerging leaves.

 

What do you believe?  Not what you were told, given or born into, but deep inside yourself if you dare to take the time to look.  Tell me about those truths.

 

I see enlightenment not as some final product and divine state, but as the simple process of conscious being… which begins with letting go, lightening up.

 

So, lighten up!

 

No, it doesn’t end there. It doesn’t end. But that’s where it starts. So let’s start.

 

~

 

Enlightenment need not be something exclusive and elusive.  We give it high airs and think it’s out of reach, some unobtainable state reserved for the special few.  The term is often misused or over used, as in, “I am,” “He is,” “She is,” and, “You, sorry, are not…”

 

That’s not true enlightenment.  That’s ego.  Let that one go too.

 

Enlightenment is within us all. It is without judgment. Without expectation, assumptions, demands.  It is without heirs, pretentions and prejudice.  And it is not like a light bulb that once we flick the switch, it’s on for good.  It too needs tending.  It ebbs and flows like waves and wind. We don’t get somewhere and remain there. It is not one place.  It is a never ending process. It is life and beyond life.

 

It’s all of us, all the time. It’s do-able It’s a state we all are in, any time we change and grow and even try to understand.  Any time we make room within us to open up and clearly see and be.  It’s not always big stuff.  Start small. Start with cleaning. Cleansing. Letting go. Opening up.

 

This is just the first step. The first season.

 

Cleaning, cleansing, clearing yourself of what you no longer need.  Getting rid of old baggage.

 

Yes, it’s that simple. And that hard.  Because we all know how hard it is sometimes to just let go.  We’re quick to cling, to hold on tight, and define ourselves by things we’ve had or happened in the past.  We’re slow to see how bound we are until we begin counting and releasing our attachments.

 

So, we start by letting go, lightening up. Get rid of that stuff.  Shed.

 

Enlighten!

 

~

 

The path to enlightenment is different for us all.  I live in and with nature. So for me, it’s easier to see life as a natural process. Here’s how I see it work around me, and thus within me:

 

  1. Spring:  Clean up.  Let go. Lighten up. Enlighten.

 

Spring cleaning of the body, mind and soul… and cabins and land.

Take care of them all.

Everything matters; nothing matters.

Consolidate.  Prioritize. Pare down to the basics. Get rid of the baggage.

Clear yourself of judgments, expectations, assumptions, demands, criticism.

Just be.

Be curious about the beautiful world around you.

Be a part of it, not separate and detached.

Fully connect.

Get to know yourself. Unadorned with ones past, possession or pretenses.

Let go of the ego, self definition and social status.

What are you left with?

Fresh soil on a raw spring day.

 

  1. Summer:   Work. Give.

 

This is the season of plenty.

Expansion.

Of growth and abundance and long days and clear connection with heaven and earth through sun and rain and rich soil and the brilliant colors of wildflowers and soft embrace of the wind.

Now it’s time to replenish, fill your self with positive stuff.

Nourish and nurture.  Our body, mind, soul. Those around us, the world we live in.

What matters most?

Whatever works for you, but not just for you:

Pray, meditate, practice, tend to your body, the Earth, give, do and care for others?

We live in the days of choice.

Consider widely.

Choose wisely.

 

  1. Autumn:  Remain. Complete.

 

Autumn.  Settling in, stocking the pantry, storing up for the long winter ahead.

This is the time of completion:  fruit ripens, seeds form, leaves are released and branches laid bare.

This is time of bringing the life blood back to the roots where it will remain for the long cold season ahead.

Here’s the one thing often missing. The key to making the equation work.

It’s called commitment.

Sticking with it.

Completion of a task well done.

Commitment is not a four letter word.  It won’t bite.  Try it.

Commitment is not a popular word these days.  Old fashioned.

As in, “Oh, really, you’re still working there?”  “You’re still doing that?”  “You’re still with him?”

Yes, yes, and yes.

And this what allows us to become really good at something, get stuff done, complete what we start out to accomplish, be true to our word, deepen our relationships, complete one thing so we can move on to  the next, and know for sure we can get more done.
Not to say it’s about accomplishment. That is not the goal.  But accomplishment as part of the natural process.  How can you grow and move beyond without completing and concluding?

Are we as flighty as the wind or as solid as the earth we stand upon?

Are we above this earth or a part of it?

Depending on your beliefs… and respecting others for theirs.
I see the cow elk running through the woods with her calf and the red-tailed hawked soaring above screeching her return to the mountain and the purple heads of the monkshood coyly emerging and hear the song of the Mighty Rio echoing on the cliffs.

This is the world around me.

And I am honored to be of this earth.

My ego does not place me greater than this, but connected to it all.

 

  1. Winter:  Dormancy.

 

Here in the high country in winter, in the vast whiteness that it is,

Just be.

Nothing more.

This is your time of stillness,

Of being,

Until you must, for you will, because life moves, we move.

We are neither static not stagnant.

This is the secret of the seasons we are not told

But we observe

In winter.

The time to settle in and go deep and in our quiet slumber, find our inner truths.

This is when change happens, we become.

We are constantly evolving, growing.  We are not inert beings (read:  stick in the mud?)

Change is a certain part of our human existence.

No, this doesn’t mean bag the commitment and try something new at every whim.

It means complete, release, and evolve.  Flow with the process.

It means to take the time to consider.  Where are you? Where did you come from? Where are you going?  Where are you  here and now?

Understand the seasons and be a part of them.

Let one blossom fade and fall off while a new bud begins to form, and a blossom opens.

Don’t get stuck in the mud, but know where to grow strong roots.

Are we meant to rise above our human existence, or make the most of it?

Transcend from this beautiful world, or be humble and grateful of the world around us, find our place and understand why we are here?

 

~

 

And so the cycles of the seasons continues.

 

Are we ever in just one stage?  Only for brief moments. Like the seasons, we are ever changing.  Because the nature of life is movement and change, and so we flow. This is our evolutionary existence.

 

~

 

Well, back to the beginning.

 

Spring.  Mud.  And cleaning.

Enlightening.

 

So there you have it. Spring cleaning.  It’s not just about dust and cobwebs. It can be a first step to enlightenment.  But instead of cabins, it’s our heart, mind and soul.  Dust of those cob webs.  Get rid of the tracks that came in from who or where we don’t even remember. Clean up the old pile of old news in the corner that’s been there since last year.  Make room for new stuff. Good stuff.  Allow yourself time to breathe, and create a space to expand.

 

Oh, and speaking about those cobwebs…

 

~

 

I leave you with this story.

 

Okay, I know a lot of you don’t like spiders and find them really creepy, but for the sake of this story, try to forget that for just a moment and hear me out.  Think of them as “natural.”  And there I was, out in nature. So, spiders have their place.  Believe me, I’m not big on them in my bedroom either…

 

Out on a walk in the woods yesterday, I came across a spider web tucked gracefully under a tree with speckled light illuminating the fine silks and a small gray spider the color of tree bark poised in the center, resting.  I stopped and stared and considered something beautiful from this simple sight.

 

Think about the correlation. She starts with nothing. Air. Space. And into that, she spins her web,

Perfect, beautiful, intricate, with care, symmetry.

 

How long did it take her to create this? She gives it everything she can to create it.  Now it is.

 

And when her hard work is done, she sits and waits.

 

In due time, into that web that she so carefully formed, comes exactly what she needs.  She doesn’t plan or act or lure or try any fancy tricks.  She just creates, with hard work, commitment and care. And then with patience, she allows and trusts and knows…

 

~

spring 6

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Shared today on Conscious Life News.

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Seven Poems in Seven Days.

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

Actually there were ten, but some of them aren’t worth sharing.

 

After feeling “too busy” and having “too much” else going on (right, join the crowd – I’ll share more on this next week)… my heart returns to poetry.  Like nature, this is where I find my grounding, my uplifting. The first thing I ever remember writing.  I wonder if it will be the last.

 

The following is the result of a ten-day personal challenge taken on with Carrie of The Shady Tree.

It turned out to be a prolific enlightening to my inner passion.

Perhaps it may just look like lot of words.

With these, I hope you may find something that touches your heart too.

Read a paragraph, a stanza, a poem as you like.

 

Gratitude for a dear friend, fellow poet, artist, and lover of family, nature and life.

Gratitude for words, creativity, and inspiration – all of which abound in this beautiful world.

(Please stop by Carrie’s site over the next few days, too, to see how the same photo can inspire such different words.)

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

You can only get

Here

by wet foot

Cool and soft and

 

squishing deep brown

between bare toes

Over slick rocks

 

The sweet moist scent of earth and

Decay

Last years dreams fermenting in

 

Never drying soil

Like a festering open wound

Where the branches bend low overhead

 

Heavy and wet and untouched

By daylight

which in turn is obscured

 

By an endless

swath of fog

 

Dampened desires

Laying heavy on moist flesh

Suppressed by sunlessness

 

Do you remember what

burning feels like

Warm and gold on

 

Exposed flesh

 

Instead in this succulence

Each drop a tiny window into the soul

An eternal pool

 

That will evaporate

and turn to steam

Should the sun burn

 

through the fog

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Barren are last year’s

blossoms

now Hard and brittle

Spent and sallow

having been bent over

By the weight of

last season’s snow

Their seeds scattered

in the spring rains

Brown dust

to brown earth

And so it should be

 

I lean over

as not to disturb

That which managed

against the elements

And marvel

at the simplicity

And complete

complexity and pure beauty

Preserved by the wind like

An embalmed queen

 

What inner

secrets do you reveal

Spilling forth promises

of eternity

That few may

bend close to hear

Before the bright easy days

of new growth

Consume us

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

On Wednesday

The midwife soars

Grounded

 

Taking flight

Because she is called

And though it appears

 

She has no control

And just moves

Out of action or reaction

 

of spreading her wings

And rising effortlessly

gracefully naturally into the stirring air

 

This remains

the most self controlled act

she may ever manage

 

Of leaving a ground

And returning

While remaining where she was.

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Last year’s leaves

Next year’s soil

Compressed under this morning’s snow

 

Elk tracks across pasture

Revealing delicate chartreuse

Of spring grass

 

Seeds

Transforming

A quiet awakening

 

Beneath the consuming

unassuming white shelter

The robin is silent this morning.

 

How can I see something new

In the same old landscape

Like looking into the eyes of a lover

 

You have wrapped your body

around for over a dozen years

And still find beauty and shiver.

 

now in static essence of early morning

Upon brown damp soil

robin sings in the cold grey light.

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Boots by the door

coated with clay

Brought in from out there,

Damp coats and wool hats

 

hang to dry.

What’s the point

You ask me

And I don’t have

 

a good reply.

We both know

they will only

be wet again.

 

Somehow starting out

dry

seems like

the thing to do.

 

The dog comes in

indifferent to wet fur and

Brown tracks behind him

With no boots to

 

leave by the door.

 

Out there

Where the bark of aspen

is soaked  to green grey.

Silver tips

 

on bare branches where

water pools in

tiny glass beads,

and brown water

 

flowing through

brown soil, saturated.

creeks cutting new paths.

old paths.

 

it will all be washed away

we say

if this keeps up.

Heavy skies

 

in stratum,

the movement of

silky flowing veils.

What secrets do they reveal

 

As an entire mountain

Obscured

And does it matter anyway

That the horizon has changed,

 

Is no longer

Peaks and ridges

But soft simple close

White?

 

The view, the future, awareness

Lost

In the sound on the metal roof

That comes in waves,

Strong and steady like

 

deep breathing

As wet as the ocean

And as far away

Above me

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

In my dreams

I am flying

Downward

 

Into secret places

Of mountain

And mind

 

Of my soul

Where even in winter

It is lush and green

 

Places no one else

can touch

Or see

 

And maybe I won’t share

Not even with you

Unless I feel certain

 

You need to know

I keep them for

Myself

 

I become Crow

Seeing from above

A  mountain in

 

parts of a whole

 

Its steep slopes

And jagged rocks

And soft spring grasses

 

And the course of

the cutting river

From so high

 

As if I were

in the wind

blowing

 

across the open flats

and navigating the

rugged bluffs

 

in and out of

tall timber

until at last I light

 

upon the highest snag

 

above it all

the voyeur of my soul

seeing across the big air

 

and down into that

hidden oasis

no one else is meant to see

 

stealing a glimpse

detached

in this vast entirety

 

absorb my world

open my eyes

and find myself still

 

flying

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

On the surface

She shines

Simple and radiant

Easy going like

the afternoon breeze

On a good spring day

 

Idyllic

Tranquility

Stillness of soul

 

Waiting for

the coming unrest

 

~

How to Be Happy

/ Gin Getz / 2 Comments

This article is shared today on Conscious Life News.  It is something I shared here a while back, and a fun reminder (I, for one, could use!).

Happiness may not be the most essential or fulfilling element to our life, but it’s a great place to begin. Why not choose happiness?  It is a simple start.  And then, we develop and grow from there.

I hope you enjoy!

~

gin and bob having an evening in the backyard

~
The five essential habits of positive people (or how to be happy in five easy steps).  

Here’s a great way to start your week on a positive note:  Be happy!  This article will show you how easy it can be.

For most of us, most of the time, in this beautiful world we live in, happiness is matter of choice.  Our personal choice.  And like most everything we choose to manifest, it takes a little work.  With everything we have ahead of us this week (and in our lifetime) to work on, happiness is a simple, easy start.  Give it a try!

~

Imagine if there were a few secret ingredients to a happy life.  You know, inside information, words of wisdom shared by the happiest people. The tricks of the trade for the happy. What works for those people who smile a lot, seem comfortable with who they are, love their work, like the people around them, are nice to be around and nice to those around them.  And imagine if we could learn from these people. Because who among us does not wish to be happier?

 

Say there are a few specific “rules” we can follow to find ourselves happier, what would they be?  They would have to be inspirational, happy, humorous, fun, not preachy, not perfect, things to try for with room to grow and plenty of forgiveness, because we’re human and we always have to try.

 

It’s all about choice.  We can choose happier habits.  Ultimately, we can choose our thoughts, rather than have our thoughts (and emotions) choose our direction.   Not to negate these things – thoughts and emotions are of great value!  It’s just that most of us need to learn to live with them, keep them in line, keep them in their proper place. (Down, Boy!)

 

We can start by following the example of people we admire. People who are trying, against odds, to make the world a better place and find a better place within themselves.  I’m not talking about the happy go lucky folks for whom life’s been just fine and they get through just fine – but never do anything great. What’s wrong with wanting great?  I want to be all I can.  I want to try it all and experience life to the fullest.  That means ups and downs. Good times and bad times.  Make mistakes.  If we don’t fall on our face, we haven’t tried to run.  Life’s too short to walk through.  So, every once in a while, run!  Flat out. And maybe you’ll fall. Get back up, dust yourself off, and when your wounds have healed (if you really must wait that long) try again.  “Only those who have had, can lose,”  I once was told after a great personal tragedy.  Sure, you can go through life playing it safe.  Make it through to the finish line. Slow, steady.  Nothing fancy, no fan fare, no bells and whistles or even a lot of cheers along the way.  Or you can dance your way through life and sometimes stumble.  If you don’t try to dance, you don’t have to worry about making the wrong moves.  But, man, what you’re missing. Oh come on. Give it a try. Dance!

 

Sure, you can’t be happy all the time. Nice idea, but not possible.  Life isn’t that simple or steady.  But you can be happier more often.  It’s up to you.

 

  1. Start your day on a positive note.  Here’s one we learned from Zig Ziglar.  Before you even get out of bed, clap your hands and say something wonderful about yourself, your world, and the day you’ve got ahead of you.  Then this one from Louise Hay. Tell yourself you love yourself.  Look in a mirror if you have one, and say it out loud.  I don’t have a mirror, need glasses to see my own eyes if I did, and I live in a small one-room cabin.  If I woke up clapping my hands and talking in the mirror, I think my husband and son would really worry.  At the very least, I’d wake them up, and those who know me know this: don’t mess with my mornings. This is my sacred time. Do not disturb. So, I keep it quiet, let them sleep, and try to say these things in my head.
  2. Patience.  Learn to slow down. Let go. Boy, this is a hard one for me.  For so many in society we are both judged, and judge ourselves, on how busy we appear to be, how much we claim to accomplish, and how jam packed we fill our days. Social status and self value are thus based on the number of hours worked (though do we stop and think how much we actually get done during those hours?).  The more we can justify being busy, the better people we think we are.  Or so we are told. Fortunately… things are changing.  That worked great to develop the modern world, create fast food and Wal-marts, capitalism and consumerism. But it didn’t bring us closer to happiness. Now it is time to try a different way. Try meditation, walking, yoga, breathing.  Watch a snowflake fall on your hand and melt.  Sit and wait in the early dark to see the moon clear the horizon (or nearest building).  Listen to the wind or the water or the waves.  Find a tree and hear the leaves rustle.  “Learn to let go. That is the key to happiness.”  –  Jack Kornfield, Buddha’s Little Instruction Book.
  3. Life’s short – eat dessert first.  Why not? Instead of dwelling on all these excuse for why not, think of all the reason why instead. Chances are, you’ll be enticed!  Look at all these wonderful things you can do, right now! Next thing you know, you might give it a go. Learn to do something new every day.  Never say never.  Don’t let yourself (or someone you love) say “I can’t.”  Go ahead, give it a try.  Now. What are you waiting for?  Don’t bother telling me.  I don’t want to hear.  I want to hear what you want to do, and what you’re doing to get there.  Even better, I want you to show me.  Do it.  Come on, dream! And dare to do something to make your dream real!
  4. Give. Practice – and expand on – compassion.  Do random acts of kindness. Do something for someone without strings attached every single day.  It doesn’t have to cost money.  It doesn’t have to take much time.  Just share the gifts you already have. You have a lot.  As a writer, I like to share my words.  A cook shares food, a photographer images, a mother comfort – these are the gifts we share, not just to make a living or get the job done or for self importance, acceptance, acknowledgement or reward.  Simply to give what we can. Share your gifts. What gifts can you share?  We all have something special. Creativity, prayer, song.  Think beyond the box.  Or look deep inside. There’s lots there.  Open it up and share it.  I bet there’s plenty to go around.
  5. Have fun, smile, dance.  This is as simple as it gets, and still one the hardest to do. Lighten up and laugh.  I don’t have TV but last month I finally saw the Ellen show while staying at my sister’s house.  Apparently she dances every day.   Right on.  Then there is a dear friend of mine, Ginny, who at first may appear to be “stuck” in a wheel chair.  But take a closer look.  See those arms flying and shoulders swaying and big broad smile that you can’t resist? There she is, even in her wheelchair.  Dancing.  If she can, I can too.  Do it.  Dance.  It feels really good.  And if you dance like no one’s looking, you can’t help but find yourself be smiling like you mean it.  And yes, chances are, you’ll feel happy.

 

Standing Still Beneath Blowing Branches (Lessons Learned from Trees)

/ Gin Getz / 8 Comments

Standing still beneath blowing branches.

Lessons learned from trees.

~

old leaf in new snow

~

These are changing times.

Turmoil around, within.  I stand beneath budding branches, the promise of the continual struggle of life, and suddenly it all makes sense, or maybe nothing matters, and everything finds its place.  Can I let myself cry, selfishly, foolishly, like an innocent child so wanting comfort in hard times yet not knowing how to ask?

Late spring in the high mountains. I write from home on the edge of the Weminuche Wilderness, high and away in the heart of the Headwaters of the Rio Grande in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains. I am flanked by a hundred thousand acres of charred woods and a few hundred thousand acres more of dead standing beetle kill and Aspen fading and falling randomly. A forest full of kindling waiting to ignite. Finding new growth, green needles, sweet sap, life existing, tenaciously holding or ferociously fighting to survive.  Life is precious.

In all their simplicity.  Trees.

Go through it.  Let it out.  Tears fall like raindrops. Nourishment to parched lands and thirsty roots.    No one to hear them fall but the trees. Allow it. Breathe in, breathe out, standing beside a tree.

These are the wise ones. They carry not a passing fancy but wisdom of the ages.  Powerful, deep and rich. They make no loud claims, but hold their ground, tangled in their roots.  Powerless to the pretenses of our demands, greed and ignorance. Eternal, I used to think.

Here they have lost ground. We have been hit hard by the changes.  A sign of things to come, a premonition, or is this just a warning to heed?  Are we too late, and does it matter anyway?

Here our children’s children will never know the old growth through which I used to wander.

Even in their ethereal presence, this graveyard of barren branches, I feel them breathe.  I hear them sigh. Down deep if no where else than in their roots, the soil, the earth. That’s where life remains. And life will come again.

Standing on fallen needles and listening to the Wisdom of the trees.

Breathing in, breathing out, seeking the scent of fresh sap and plump needles. I have almost forgotten.

These are the lessons they teach.

Stand with me now, still and silent beneath bare branches of a seemingly lifeless tree.  Close your eyes.  In the wild spring wind, feel the remaining presence of these great beings.  Listen to their wisdom.

This is what we hear:

~

aspen in snow

~

The earth matters. Give more than you take.

You can’t control the seasons. Learn to let go.

You can’t rush the seasons.  Practice patience.

You can’t change the weather.  Stand tall in the rain and dance in the wind.

Storms come, storms go, the sun will shine again.

Be still and listen.

Be wordless.  (So hard for a writer to do.)  That’s where our truths are found.  (Write about them later.)

Everything changes.

Seasons come and seasons go.

Leaves fall and blossoms return time and time again.

Life stems where you least expect it.

Last year’s leaves are next year’s fertile soil.

Be willing to shed and grow again.

Be grounded. Grow your roots deep and strong.

We share the same soil. Our roots are connected. We are one.

Stand tall and strong, not hard and rigid.

Be flexible in adverse conditions.

Learn to bend in the wind.

Adapt.

Seeds blow in the wind – new life starts where you least expect.

Be willing to break new ground.

Don’t expect ideal conditions.

Grow where they least expect it.

Know you are never alone. Others will grow beside you, and together, you can create a forest.

Look around at others growing above and below you. Respect differences.   We need each other.

Provide shelter to those who need it.

Nurture indiscriminately.  Practice non-judgment.

Give what you can, and then give more.

Don’t take it personally, and you can’t change others.  All you can do is grow.

Allow the world to come and go around you.

Learn to let go.

Nothing lasts forever.

~

looking down to reservoir

~

 

 

 

From the Heart.

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

~

This is the view from safe little world.

One view from my safe little world.

~

With our big, open, considerate, compassionate minds.

From our evolved, elite, advanced, educated, privileged and fortunate state of being.

Humbly, we consider the disaster in Nepal.

We consider lives.  Real lives.  Those that were harder to begin with than our hardest day.

These lives.  Lost.

Sorrow for the survivors. Chaos and comfort for the remainders, the rescuers, the wounded, the grieving.

We consider what we can do. How can we make a difference?

Can we make a difference?

How will we know unless we try?

Try.

Try is our mantra. To learn by, to grow by, to make an effort, to possibly make a difference.

Do something.

Nothing is not the answer.

This much we know.  If nothing more.

We send prayers.

That is a start.

That is something.

It matters.

Taking the time to pray, to meditate, to think.

No, we’re not too busy.  Though the busier we claim to be, the easier it is to forget.

We want to forget. What else can we do? We can’t really do more, can we?

We want to do more but our hands are tied.  We’re too busy.  Got too much going on, too many things we need to do, bills to pay, pressures and responsibilities and meetings to attend, work and people and important things, deadlines and appointments and a shopping list this long, and a text just came in and we need to keep up with the latest greatest social media because somehow we know that mattes dearly, and …we’re already running late, better go now…

Wait.

Just for a minute.

Put down the cup of Fair Trade coffee and turn away from the Very Important Message flashing on the screen and ignore the incoming text for just one second…

The world will go on without us.

Really.

Instead, for that second, think about this.

There’s a whole other world out there.

It’s not just “the other half.” It’s more than half. It’s most.

We say we want to help.

Do something important.

Something that matters.

For the bigger picture, not just for us.

Do we?

Really?

So where do we begin?

There are so many choices, too many, overwhelming.

We spend our time discussing, researching, contemplating which to take, what to do, and then realize we’ve used up all our allotted time and move on instead.

Things to do.

Being busy used to impress.  It doesn’t any more.

We see how busy we are but what are we really accomplishing?

We see how important we claim to be, to act, to fill our day but what is our true meaning?

What is the meaning of our life, we ask ourselves in between the busy moments if we let ourselves go there?

Or are we too busy to consider that most basic of questions?

Is our day instead filled still just trying to survive?

And that’s okay too if that were real.

But don’t we see how far beyond…

Survival…

We have become.

We have so much, too much.

This is not survival.

We don’t know what it means to be hungry.

We have not sold ourselves, our daughters, our bodies, their bodies.

We have not lost our sons, our husbands, our homes, our fortunes if nothing more than a single family heirloom that is all that remained and now no longer does.

Our city is not flattened and we’ve not been dodging bullets and disease and poverty and famine.

We have water, for God’s sake, and forget how lucky even that is.

Some days we’re too busy thinking from the mind.

We forget to think from the heart.

We forget the big picture.

In which we are just a very small pin prick.

Look.

We are all shaken today, here in our comfortable world in the land of plenty,

and if we are not, we need to be.

Held by the shoulder and given a good shake.

How does it feel?

May we never know how bad it feels.

The least we can do is try.

Understanding.

Compassion.

What does it feel like?

People have died.

Innocent poor people in a developing nation because that’s how it is 90% of the time with natural disasters.  Why is that?

We want to know why and we don’t know. We don’t understand.  We pull our hair, clean and colored and styled, in frustration. This does not help, does it?

We want answers.

Somehow we think that will help.

We look in the press, on the internet.

Yesterday the press was more interested in the few privileged killed on Mount Everest than the over three thousand human beings who lived and struggled even before this disaster that took their lives.

One life is no more or less valuable than another.

We must never forget this.

We mourn for our losses, their losses, life and death and our tied hands and full bellies and wallets.

Our eyes swell and our hearts ache and we feel a sadness so far from our safe little elite existence.

We make a hundred buck donation and hit send and never see it again and hope it does some good.  We’re sure it does. But we want to do more.  We know we have so much, more to give, more is needed.

Look at the bigger picture.

We say this often. We have so much. Too much.

Compassion?

Maybe not enough.

But we keep thinking there has to be more.

We don’t know what.

Nothing is not the answer.

Something.

Do something.

So, get back to work.

Where were we?

Yes, we’ve got things to do today.

We know how busy we are.  We’ve heard. We’ve all told each other plenty.  It must be true, with our cell phone in one hand and laptop in the other and five second attention span because there’s so much we need to do.

We’re a mover and a shaker.  Each one of us.

Good.

So let’s move and shake and do something that matters.

Now is the time.

What are we waiting for?

 

How to Begin – An Intimate Look Inside a Beginner’s Mind

/ Gin Getz / 15 Comments

From the Beginning.

~

spring road

~

This essay launches a new series I’m honored to be sharing with Conscious Life News entitled From the Beginner’s Mind. Though my writing is usually centered around land and life intimately intertwined, this series shares the story of a mid-life awakening.  Mind you, this is no mid-life crisis. Things are going great.  I’m not turning toward a spiritual enlightenment to escape or out of desperation, but because something is still missing.  This is about the exploration of that ‘something.’

This is not a how-to manual for I don’t have the answers.  I am learning just like you.  And though I might like to be, I’m the first to admit I’m no expert.   I cannot tell you how-to for I too am figuring it out. All I can do is share with you my journey, and hope you might be interested, inspired, encouraged, or even amused along the way.

With an open heart and mind, we can learn from every person we meet, every encounter we have, every article or book we read.  With an open heart and mind we can find the answers we are looking for.  That is the beginner’s mind.  Where I find myself.  Where perhaps you are too.

This is a journey.  Let’s enjoy it together.

~

spring thaw

~

From the Beginner’s Mind.

Some say they have found enlightenment, and guard their discovery as an exclusive, elusive secret.

Others make no claims, but somehow you feel they are the wiser ones. These are the few who exude the pure essence of the beginner’s mind; that of clarity, equanimity, detachment, and compassion.  There is something in the softness of their gaze when speaking with (not to) you; and a grace and ease in their movements.  They observe their world with curiosity, remain humble to share what they have learned, and generously offer encouragement. They give you hope for what you can learn, what you can be, and the point and purpose of enlightenment as well as living – if you need those things (I do).

And then there are those who are happy where they’re at, found what they need, or aren’t interested in seeing beyond.

I’m none of those.  You too?

Then this too might be you:  One of those still looking, seeking, questioning.  We don’t accept a truth unless we can prove it, and yes, sometimes that just means “feeling” the right answer.  But, we haven’t always had the time.  Basic survival (raising a family, holding down a job and getting food on the table) came first.  We wanted more (energy and time included), knew there was more, and felt an emptiness for that something more.  But finding time for teachers, lessons, practice and quiet meditation … well, those things seem out of reach, for the elite without the struggles and responsibilities we claimed, and thus not easily available for us everyday folks with basic needs.

That sure is me.   We all have our thing, our distractions, temptations, obstacles to overcome. Or not.  It’s all a matter of choice.  I am choosing to take the time now.

Sound familiar?

So now I’m finding myself here. At the beginning.  A true beginner’s mind.

It’s not out of wisdom, comprehension and compassion that I call mine a beginner’s mind.  It’s simply the cold, hard, fact.  No pretentions.  No claims of clarity and openness, self knowledge, deep understanding, expertise and valuable insights.  Just a beginner’s mind. The real deal.

This is a simple story of a midlife awakening.  Maybe you’ll relate, maybe you’ll learn from or along with me, maybe you’ll laugh at my discoveries, maybe you’ll roll your eyes and chuckle, “What took you so long?”

Well, things like raising a family, making a marriage, paying the bills, establishing a business, keeping a house and hopefully my sanity in the process, though there was little time for more and some days not enough for all. I called it “basic survival.”  Now my child is raised, my marriage is strong, my calling is fulfilling, my health is awesome, my home is beautiful, and I’m out of debt.  I’m not turning towards spirituality as an escape, but rather for an enhancement.  I still want more. Something is missing.  I’m looking for a life of soul, as well as health, happiness and love.  What does that entail?  Well, this is what I’m trying to figure out!

In retrospect I see I’ve always been somewhere on this winding, twisted route – from practicing yoga on the beaches of Greece, to searching for the elusive magic mushroom on the hills over Santa Fe, to driving cross country time and again in my ’66 split windshield VW microbus with paisley walls and burning incense.  All of it matters, or doesn’t, but is somehow a part of the whole. Then, twenty years of being a mom centered me, kept me in line, turned my focus from me to we.  I can look at that time as a good excuse for not being somewhere else, or accept it as the opportunity to open me to just the right lessons I needed to learn and bring me to where I am today, ideally with experience, understanding, insight and compassion. At least in theory. Because we all know wisdom doesn’t automatically come with age or experience.  It takes reflection, compassion, detachment and true understanding. It also takes time, commitment and energy.  Some of you may get these things worked out early on.  It took me a while.  I think I’ve got it together now.  (Is the act of knocking on wood considered too “beginner?”)

In any case, now I allow myself to dive deep.  At times I feel selfish and spoiled – guilty in a way – am I wrong to take time for this stuff?  Aren’t there “better” things I could be working on?  More important?  More productive?  Couldn’t I keep busier?  Make more money?  Take on more responsibility? Be more impressive, aggressive, and accomplished?

I don’t know.

I know I’m supposed to practice non judgment. Starting with myself.  After a half a lifetime seemly tainted by assumptions, stereotypes, prejudices, jumping to conclusions, taking it too personally, caring what others think, trying to please, trying to impress, do the right thing, belong, be accepted,  be responsible, be loved… learning how to just be is a lot more work than I thought it would be.

~

So that’s where I’m at now.  At the beginning.

You probably know this one. Suzuki wrote:  “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind there are few.”  Of course he’s referring to the beginner’s mind, not just the beginner, but he encourages us to consider this: the two are not so dissimilar. At least, it gives me hope to think so.

As you too may have found, for those really beginning, there are a zillion choices. Too many.  It’s overwhelming.  How do you know which is right for you? There are so many paths and practices, each acclaimed to be the best. So many choices; all leading to the same place, more or less. It’s like going into a cereal isle and trying to pick one.  Or two.  Or three.  So you take one box, taste, and maybe next time you’ll try something else.  Keep trying until you find your favorite. What works best for you?  What feels right?  What’s your path?  What’s right for you may not be right for me.

Sometimes, too, you just have to trust.  The right opportunities present themselves at the right time.  Or not, and then you get the lessons of patience and perseverance.  Are you going to stick with it or not?  So you learn to balance commitment with choice.  Without commitment, I think I’d just keep trying it all, be one more spiritual junkie on the path to the next latest greatest promise to quick and easy enlightenment, never getting good at anything, and probably never getting to where I want to go, which may be the case no matter how focused I try to remain, for maybe where I want to go isn’t where I need to be.

I am grateful it’s never too late to learn.

And I am grateful for those willing to teach.  Don’t you know what your wisdom and experience mean to those seeking?  The sharing of gems.  Wealth and shining beauty in the form of a few words or lessons.  This is amazing stuff. Stuff we have to remember to pass on some day, some how. The time will come.  Sure, some will tell you “I’m enlightened; you are not,” and won’t have time (or the mind/heart set) to share how they got to where you are not.  There’s plenty of that around.   There’s also plenty of humility and compassion.  Big, wide, generous hearts.  Learn from them in whatever way you can.  It never hurts to ask, reach out, try.  Perhaps with simple observation, perhaps with direct lessons.  Learn from those that practice what they preach, and exude the essence you are working toward.  No, you’ll never be someone else.  We’re all beautiful and unique in our own way, with our own style and gifts, calling and path.  But choose your teachers wisely, I tell myself.  On the other hand, with an open mind and heart, I can learn from anyone.

I am humbled by knowing how little I know, how much I can learn.

~

What have I learned so far?  Well, I confess often I haven’t learned by proficiency, but out of frustration.

These are the hard ones for me, the ones I have to work on every day, and still don’t have mastered.  And because they are so hard, and require so much attention and effort, I’m pretty sure these are the biggies:

Patience.  I still want it all now.  The answers, enlightenment, that feeling of bliss or “getting it” I get for fleeting moments during meditation.  I also know it’s not supposed to work that way.  If it were easy… we’d all be there already and miss the journey.  It requires practice.  Meditation.  Sitting.  Focus.  No focus. Learning to be still. Wait.  Receive.  All in due time.  “Don’t work too hard, just let it come,” one teacher tells me.  Easier said than done.  How to erase 40-something years of thinking I need to work my butt off to get what I want.  Funny because even when I did work my butt off, I didn’t always get what I wanted.  Or maybe it was that what I thought I wanted wasn’t that which I needed, so obtaining it was unfulfilling… grab it and go, onto the next.

Gratitude. For those who have shared, are willing to share, with such humility and grace. Gratitude… for those who treat me gently (or harsh when I need that, and I do sometimes) and try to teach me what they have learned without making me feel like a fool (or at least, not trying to… because sometimes I do anyway).  Have you noticed that those who know the most say they know the least?  Give them time (back to that patience thing…) and they’ll reveal what you need to know, when you need to know it… if you stick with it, and ask.  I treasure the time, care, insight, wisdom, and the gems they have shared with me.  Gratitude… for all those opening the doors, calling me over, laughing at my enthusiasm as I come eagerly running like a happy puppy.

Forgiveness.  This may sound selfish, but I’m trying to start with myself on this one.  I’m not talking therapy here, just understanding, acceptance, and love.  At least that’s what I’ve read.  The theory being it’s hard to move forward without a good grasp of the past.  And once you start taking a quick look, you start seeing how much you hold against yourself. Geez. Let it go!  Right.  Easier said than done, but I’m trying.  And at the same time, working on forgiving others, because really, what’s the point?  Anger and resentment eat away at me only; the other person has no idea I’ve got a vex on them.  So the point is…?  Get over it.  Move onto better things. At least, that’s what this beginner is trying to do.

Understanding.  Clarity or seeing clearly. When I was little with my big strong mind (or so I swore it to be back then) my mother would say to me, “We agree to disagree.”  I didn’t agree at all.  I knew that was a way of saying, “I won’t even bother trying to understand.” I wanted to be understood.  Now  I want to understand. “Everything on the planet,” another teacher tells me. No, you don’t have to agree. But try to truly understand.  It feels amazing, expansive, inclusive just to give it a try…

Non judgment.  Why did it take me so long to figure this out? (Though is “Why?” a question laced with judgment or simply curiosity?)  So yeah, I got a long ways to go on this one.  And once again, who do we judge most but ourselves?  How do we learn to let go of self expectations and demands  and fears ?  I wish I knew.  I’m starting by (trying…) switching my focus to calm, clear, centered… and sometimes nothing at all, just breathing in and breathing out.  It’s a start. Tell you what:  seems like it’s easier to find fault than accept praise.  Who said it was meant to be easy?

Service.  I keep finding myself going back to the old Jackie Robinson quote:  “A life is not important except for the impact it has on other lives.”  I don’t think we’re ever fully fulfilled unless we see that what we’re doing is not just for ourselves.  The bigger picture matters.  Sure, we all want to be included and accepted, but it’s more than that.  We need a point and purpose, and I think that point and purpose has to involve the well being of others to be sincerely satisfying.  So, is service a selfish act?  I don’t know – maybe we can twist it around to be – but I think the big thing is this:  we need to do stuff for others.  If it doesn’t feel like enough, maybe it’s not. Do more.  If I’m lucky, I’m only half way through life.  I spent what felt like the first half taking care of me and my family.  Now it is my time to start reaching beyond.

Love.  Surely this is the most important.  It is so simple, really, and yet so crazy complex.  In all its wild ways.  Sexual, spiritual, motherly, earthy, passionate, compassionate love.  Love… for the understanding I am slowing seeing, feeling, breathing in, becoming. Very slowly.  Love… for my husband, who not only lets me, but actually joins me.  Love… for the earth I tread softly on and spring winds and bird songs and the howling coyote at first light.  Love… for the words I weave into poetry, if no where else then in my mind, for it makes me smile and love the world around me I write about that much more.  And here’s something cool I’m finding.  Why not love?  Everyone.  Everything.  I’m sick of anger.  I’m trying to catch myself. When I feel like smacking someone in the face (no, I’ve actually never did this, but between you and me, I confess I have fantasized…), turn my feelings to love.  Plain and simple.  It’s easier than I thought. Try it if you don’t believe me.  Just change your thoughts.  Stop one.  Replace with another. No excuses.  Just do it.   Really. Sincerely.  Tell you what – it feels amazing.  Love.  Because the more you send out, the more is out there, and the more you feel, and that’s just good stuff, no matter how you look at it.

Compassion.  My take on this, coming from my true beginner’s mind, is that compassion sums up all these lessons. Patience, understanding, non judgment, service, love.  And then you have to practice what you preach.  This is the hard part.  Put your lessons to the test, and into action. Not just words, readings, teaching, but actual doings. How I treat myself.  How I treat others.  How I treat the Earth.  And that’s where the hard part comes in. Being the person you want to be.  Now.  But that’s where you really start feeling like you’re getting somewhere.  Start by trying. That’s all it takes to begin.

~

So, here I am.  On the path to awakening.  At least, that’s where I hope this road is going.

Where ever I am, it’s beautiful.  It feels good.  It feels right.  Some days I’m elated and high and it feels so awesome and for fleeting moments I shiver with bliss and feel enwrapped with light and I’m sure I’m doing it right, and even get a glimpse of what “right” might be.  And then the next day I slip back into my selfish, short sighted, wounded child whining.  It doesn’t last long any more.  At least, I try not to let it.  I’m slowly learning to see right through that game.  Finally.  And see into something so much better.

“Try” is my mantra.  Try to get over it. Try to forgive myself when I don’t.  Try to change the bad thoughts to good.  Try to feel love when I’m burning with rage. Try to feel  at ease when I’m convinced I was just slighted, dissed, or rejected (this one happens plenty as a writer).Try to find calm when my mind is moving like a racehorse, busted free from the track , and is heading off, fast, in a direction to god knows where… Come back to center, breath, smile, and try again…

I’ve got a long ways to go. I’m starting to understand if done correctly, I’ll be doing this forever.  Learning, growing, expanding, adjusting, refining.  I’m also starting to understand this:  once you get on the path, sure you’ll get lost and lose the way from time to time, but I don’t think the journey ends.  Something inside keeps us going, brings us back to center, and leads us onward.  A deep yearning for the truth, peace, presence and understanding.  Have you found this to be so?

Have you noticed this one too?  Once you begin to open your eyes, suddenly you start seeing so much.  It’s beautiful.  It’s almost blinding, almost overwhelming, but you can’t turn your head away…

Word of warning – when you begin to open, with gratitude, humility and clarity, the Universe rejoices.  It celebrates joyously by throwing doors open for you.  You might have to run to keep up and get through them all. You can do it!

I’m opening them all for now, jumping in and finding my way around. I’m trusting, and believing and following, rather than controlling, and this is new for me.  I’m rejoicing too – I know I’ll get exhausted, and settle in soon enough and find my new expanding space. But for now, I’m having fun learning.  Everything is new today.

No doubt, many of you are further along on the path than me.  Please be patient with us late bloomers or slow movers.  No need to wait on us, but be gentle when you see us swerving along the rocky road.  Be gracious, knowing one more human being is beginning the unfurling.

I’m just happy I’m here now.

And though I don’t get all the right answers or clearly see the way yet, I’m sure enjoying the journey.

~

outside of creede

~

Stirring.

/ Gin Getz / 11 Comments

~

spring on the mountain

~

There is an intense clarity found in springtime in the high mountains.  It is not beautiful, but real and raw.  It hides nothing. Like a truth you cannot escape.  An inner stirring as the outer winds churn cold and biting from over the Divide.

It is not a stunning time, but one of stark realities. You are left to face yourself, your world, in all its plainness. Earthen tones and unadorned branches that may snap in the strong gusts if not full and plump with awakening life and the memory of remaining flexible.  A time to weed out the weak, prepare for the upcoming unfurling.  Last year’s brown grass strewn with grey branches like abandoned dreams. I pick them up as I walk by and stack them in burn piles to clean up when the wind dies down and we’re ready for a quiet evening.

~

looking down lost

~

There is no draw here for tourists now.  Instead this is the time to drag the pasture and fix fences, repair gates and clean up back roads. It is a time for work, not for fun and pretty and light and laughter and languid appreciation of abundant natural beauty though there is always that too no matter.  It is quiet at first tired breath, then exhilarating in its wild rapture with roaring river and winds that blend into their own inseparable harmony.

It is not a time to blatantly behold, but rather discretely observe, for what you are witness to now is her nakedness. Soon she shall dress, slowly, in preparation for what will be.

Some days you’re fooled into believing it’s all over or just begun and then you wake to temperatures in the teens and dig into frozen ground and remember where you are in spite of longing for longer days, warmer rays and shorter shadows. Shade cast from the remaining white high hills obscures hopes of lush and green and leaves and blossoms for some time to come.

~

spike and lichen on cedar post

~

It’s quieter around here without the goose.  I confess I snuck down to Ute Creek to check on him.  Only once.  There was a big flock newly arrived of geese, ducks and smaller birds enjoying a warm brown open pool in the otherwise still ice covered expanse. And about a hundred yards away on a stretch of frozen mud, was one solitary goose looking back towards the others.  What do you think? Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

In the meanwhile, there’s this independent hen… Ever hear of such a thing?  In all my years of raising chickens, I never had.   But sure enough.  We got one here now. One of our free range hens decided she is not in need of flock nor rooster (though he’s quite in need of her and tries often to herd her home). Instead she prefers our porch, picnic table, the wood pile outside our front door. Go figure what’s worth scratching for in there.  She’s outside our cabin at any given time of day.  Though I’ve never been liberal in giving credit to a chicken’s sensitivities and insight, it’s as if she knows she’s in a bird friendly zone (it is indeed with my very active bird feeder) and a family in need of a feathered friend.

~

looking up pole

~

And then.

Yesterday we pass by the lake of open water miles down river below our ranch. Bob drives slowly as I have my head out the window and that wind is cold.  I’m looking.  Carefully.

No, that’s not him, I say and he drives on.

How do you know, he asks me.  I just know.

Stop.  Here.  No, not that one… but that one there could be… slow down… pull over!

Rikki, I call.

The one with the big head and the low honk flies off to an island a short ways away and fights with another one before landing.  Rikki never behaved like that, I note to self, and then I realize this:  He is a she!

And there she is, with another female.  Swimming this way from the far bank.

Listen, I tell Bob. I can hear her before I see her.  I know her voice.  My Rikki!

She is calling to me.  We holler, back and forth across the cold grey water…

She remains in the water, closer but never too close, talking together all the time, back and forth, as the dog runs along the bank and I wonder which of us Rikki misses more, but I sense that she won’t come clear to us, and she shouldn’t, and she doesn’t.  And although I’d love to sit next to her and stare into her warm brown eyes and just chatter as the two of us have done so many times before, her distance feels right.  I am happy for her. She has found her place. And it is beautiful.

I am humbled to realize how wild the wilds shall always be, and how domesticated I remain.

I stand to leave in the brown grass along the bank and kick someone’s spent shotgun shells littered along the spring soil.

~

rikki at rc res

~

 

Thaw.

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

~

leaf

~

Crack open like a fragile white shell

Exposing

churning waters

pumped and swollen in the warm early

spring day

chewed the solid river free

ravage the lingering white surface

like an eager lover

Grey waters, grey sky and a land of ashen hillsides

fading

to patches of brown

a random quilt torn and worn with age

drown out the calls of the newly arrived

bluebird

And the beloved trees stand a silent cold still vigil

Of brown branches and pale needles

fallen

And eternal roots entangled roots

rising

Powerful in their ethereal presence

That can not be erased by tiny beetles

nor chased by a changing climate

entangled with those roots within me

Expanding

the breath of a new season

 

~

baby Rikki

~

 

So… about the goose.

A wildlife success story.

 

Consider this.

The pursuit of happiness is hardly limited to the human mind.  I have looked deep into his warm brown eyes enough to know. He has been lonely, longing, wondering.  I hope he is happy now though we may question both the importance we place on the state of happiness and the impermanence of an emotional state.  In any case…

 

Rikki flew the coop. Or rather, the ranch.  He’s down at Ute Creek with… geese!

I want to ride down there now to call him, have him fly to me, look deep into my cold grey eyes and remind me that yes, he loves me, he is grateful for my having raised him with love, kindness, care. But these things I already know.

 

When we returned from Argentina, we watched the poor guy endure big snowstorms and fend off the fox (after nights of trying to wake in time to “eliminate” the fox problem, I actually saw the bushy red fellow run right by that goose, both uninterested in the other, so I suppose they worked their thing out). We watched him do his best to follow his two and four legged family everywhere (you should see how well he now climbs cliffs and hikes through the trees). And still looking out the window from the warmth of my cabin out to the little feathered football in the snow, I felt a sadness and loneliness in him.  Yes, in a Canada goose. Go ahead and laugh, but it’s true.

 

A few evenings ago, we’re out cooking dinner in the fire pit and I hear geese flying by. The first of the season. There’s just this tiny sliver of a moon and they’re following the river.  Rikki remained by the fire with us, seemingly unaffected.  Then the next day, I hear them mid day. Bob hears them while working down by the new cabin.  Rikki was out on pasture grazing with the horses. Decoy, Bob has called him there.  That’s the last we’ve seen of him.  No feathers.  No chance of a predator with my big beast of a barking dog out there with him.  In my heart, I understand.

 

I’m happy but sad at the same time.  I’m tempted to go check on him but know I should not. I should let him be.  He is where he belongs.

And so am I.

 

~

baby rikki 2

~

 

Some things to consider.

My Ted Talk to Self for the Season.

 

Growing up I wanted to change the world. Didn’t you?

The two of us did. Said we would. Different ways.

 

Both wanted to change the shape of the box.  Or perhaps it was the contents.

You said from within.  I said from without.

Inside, outside.

You told me you’d work with the system.

Me, I wanted to free those trapped inside.

Neither of us were wrong or right.

It takes both kinds. All kinds.

But have we changed it yet?

I’m still trying.

Are you?

 

I told you working within was Old School.  The box is bigger now. Different.  Everything changes. There should be no boundaries.  Autonomy and liberation and expansive ideas.  Silly me, you said.  Maybe you are right.  Maybe not.

 

Remember when I studied art?  I’m remembering how it wasn’t until the 15th Century that we figured out perspective.  We played with it, mastered it, and moved on. Beyond perspective; beyond Realism; beyond painting only that which we can see though the art form is something we look at.  From Classic to Impressionism, Abstraction to Minimalism, Modern and post Modern.  Where are we now?  Evolving, always evolving…

 

As human beings we are constantly evolving – as a society, as individuals.

Those that don’t get stuck in the mud.

Boring…

Try something new.

Look at those who have changed the world.

Those you admire most.

Are they within the box or without?

Chances are you’ll most admire those standing on the side you do.

 

How do we change the world?

Change ourselves.

You can.

I can.

Take charge, take responsibility.

Here’s a quick three step program to get you going.

I’ll let you know how it works – I’m on it.

Let me know how it works for you too.

 

Step one.

Question the box and its contents.

Take a good hard look at what’s in there.

Clarity is powerful stuff.

Don’t accept mediocrity.  Is good enough good enough?

Don’t accept the truths you were given unless they feel right, down to your very core.

Don’t accept the way that was if you think there can be better. Is the way it was the way you want it to be?

Don’t demand it in others until you can do it yourself.

 

Step two.

Figure out where you want it to go.

And since you’re just working on yourself here, where do you want to go?

Who do you want to be?  Now.

Not certain?  Join the crowd.

Then be willing to step out of it.

Look around. Who do you admire most?

Be that person. Now.

Admiration – yes, even envy – is a call to action.
It’s not a green monster, but a great motivator.

What is it about that person that you want more of?

Rather than hate them for having it, figure out how to have it too.

Don’t take it from them either; that’s bad Karma.

Better yet, create it anew for you.

You can do it, be it, have it.

But you have to work for it.

 

Step three.

I just read an article that said no matter what you read from Freud, you really can change your personality.

So, see?  You can change something within you.

And if you can do that… then…

Well, let’s just start with that.

The article said all it takes is 12 weeks.

First, figure out what you want to change.

Then, figure out how you want it to be.

Then, for twelve weeks:

Actively be it.

Fake it till you make it.

In 12 weeks, it will be yours.

Right, we have to be realistic here.  In 12 weeks, I’m not going to be 20 again.  (Don’t worry – I really don’t want to be 20 again!)  But I could be more, say, social. (Or maybe not.)  Yes, I could, but I don’t know it that’s on my list of things to change. Being socially inept isn’t that bad. There are other things I need to work on first.

Choose something that matters most.  Something that will make you feel better about yourself.

And if you feel better about yourself, well, don’t you feel better about your world?

So you see… in 12 weeks, you can change the world.

Just a little bit.

It’s a start.

What are we waiting for?

 

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pole

 

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simpson

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How do you define Success?

/ Gin Getz / 15 Comments

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aspen in spring snow

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For some really strange reason I have this inner calling to open my mouth and speak up for the wilds and wildlife and the mountains around me. Maybe it’s that David and Goliath thing. At times, it gets me in trouble and doesn’t always get me friends, but I can’t help myself, and feel morally obliged. I have to speak up  – maybe the only contrary voice out there – one little woman taking on a bunch of big boys.

Few of you will read this.  Fewer still will care.  And a few might even get a little riled up (safe to say, based on personal biases and connections held onto tightly).  Good.  Go ahead.  The truth can be disturbing…. Time to open your eyes, and your hearts, and look a little deeper, my friends.

Most of us believe what we want to believe.  I guess it’s part of human survival. From assumptions to core beliefs. And changing our minds is as rare as changing religion. I am not asking you to change your mind.  Only open it.

This is about the Canadian Lynx relocated to southern Colorado, and those that have worked to create a successful program… at what cost and for whom?  Now they have launched a review and I think we can safely guess what they will call their outcome.  Before you too are convinced of their self proclaimed success, please read on.

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Success!

For whom, and at what expense?

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I have nothing to lose in speaking up. Nothing riding on this but care and concern for those with whom I share this mountain and the wilds.  I also have nothing to gain.  No money, no reputation, no ego, nothing to prove to the public.

It’s been about ten years since I first voiced my concerns.  I imagine unrelated to my little voice from up on this big mountain, not too long after that, they left the remaining lynx alone.  Rumor had it the program ran out of funding, and public opinion was getting wise and getting mad.  They simply called their program “a success,” and left the mountain with their tail between their legs.  Along the way, they quietly removed their sign depicting the cute little lynx at the beginning of the road where it changes from pavement to dirt which was intended, I suppose, as a warning to people driving by. After all the trapping, touching and handling in the relocation and continued monitoring even after release, the lynx were known to walk towards humans up here, not run away.  That’s how most folks around these parts learned to identify the lynx, not to be confused with the wise and native bobcat.  Well, that and the darned collars.

I live 18 miles up that road, just beyond where they release the lynx that had been trapped, sedated, relocated, and “rehabbed” to adjust to our altitude, they say.   Not a lot of other people live here, especially in winter.  I think there’s one family about six miles away as the crow flies; otherwise, the nearest home is 18 miles away… back down by that sign. The lynx do live around me.  A few that made it.  I see their tracks, and keep my mouth shut and wish they would just hide so “they” wouldn’t come bother them again. But here “they” are, back at it.

And so, I am too. Voicing my concerns about a program that may have been born with the best of intentions. That was many moons (millions of dollars, and hundreds of lives) ago.   Now, if we dare to look deeply, we are forced to question:  who is this program really for, and who truly stands to gain from this process?

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The program I am referring to is the relocation of Canadian Lynx to southern Colorado, an area that at best may have been the southernmost range recorded for this beautiful animal currently designated as a “threatened species” but often referred to incorrectly as “endangered.” I’ve even hear the species referred to as the Colorado Lynx, which I suppose would make this a new species all together, or simply a term of endearment for those wonderful creatures that were taken from their native Canada and actually survived here.

Now they’re doing a review.  Proving their success.  Yeah!  After how much time and money and losses, there are Canada lynx alive and well in Colorado!

Yet, we must not be fooled by the “facts” we are provided with, nor ruled solely on our emotions for cheering on what we want to be: the success of this wild animal.  Whose success are we really looking at?

What we have here is an ethical dilemma.  We’re playing a game, using a beautiful innocent creature as the pawn and one of the most unpopulated parts of the country as the playing ground. Who really are the players involved?  Though we all become involved as our heart strings are toyed with too…

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Oddly enough, the “critical habit” for the Canadian Lynx in the Lower 48, as reported by US Fish and Wildlife, does not even go as far south as Colorado, not to mention southern Colorado, but includes Maine, Minnesota, Washington, Wyoming and Montana.

No matter. Here we are in the day of climate change and we’re thinking this is the thing to do:  let’s take an animal native to the eastern and western sides of Canada, and drop them off a thousand or two miles south in the middle of the mountains, and see what happens.

This week we have snow.  What about the rest of the winter? What about, as even “they“ have called it, the new normal?  We jokingly call this part of the southern San Juans The Banana Belt.  Compare us to northern BC, Alaska and Quebec where the animals originated, I’d say that’s not too far off.  No, we have no bananas. But here at the head of the Rio Grande and the end of the Four Corners region, we have strong sun and wonderful warm days in winter and high altitude unlike anything seen up north…

I may not be any wildlife “specialist” but it does not take such degrees to grant common sense.  It takes eyes, mind, and heart.  I’m here, and I see.  I’m not reporting from behind a desk from some big city far away.  I’m talking about my back yard.  No, I’m not the slick professional putting out the press releases to stir public interest and to support my cause.  I’m just a small woman with a big heart who is crying out to try to get some answers, open some eyes, and protect the wilds I’m lucky (or crazy) enough to live in.

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And so, they came here. First because there was no public interference. Hinsdale and Mineral Counties are each about 96% public lands.  That means, of course, only 4% private, and so, not a lot of people, period. Those folks up north were not only more plentiful, but wise to potential restrictions like road closures such a program could bring, and would not cooperate.

Recently, I read a new twist to this theory. Their story changed.  Now they say they researched and chose this location because they found so many snowshoe hare around here it seemed like a great place to give it a try.  I’ve also heard they relocated snowshoe hare here too, so I don’t know what or who to believe any more.

I do know this. My aunt scoffed when years ago I first told her enthusiastically they were bringing the Canadian Lynx to Colorado.  She’s from upstate New York.  “They tried that here too,” she scowled, “but the lynx all left.”

Ours tried to leave too. But this time, the powers that be chose a location so far away, making it back home would be close to impossible. They found “our” lynx in Kansas, and I don’t remember where else.  Many died trying, on the side of the road.  Though more of them simply starved.

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Proof that if you put enough money into a program, have enough ego to keep at it at all costs, and are willing to risk enough lives, you can make anything work.

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Now, I’m just a middle aged lady who has called this mountain home for over a dozen years. Nothing fancy; nothing powerful. In fact, kind of small and usually pretty darned quiet. I’m a homebody and would rather walk or ride a horse than get in or on anything motorized. I don’t fish or hunt and I can’t even get myself to kill a rabbit. I’ve lived up here far beyond where a lady “should” with my husband, my dog, horses, cats, chickens and a wild goose that came to us last spring and hasn’t left.  We raised our son here and at 21, he now is wintering at the South Pole station – testament, I suppose, to how remote, removed and cold one assumes it can be here. But we’re comfortable.  We live simply and eek out a living between running a seasonal guest ranch, writing and taking on odd jobs.  I’m not here to get rich. I’m here just to be here. The wilds, wildlife and Wilderness (note the capital W) mean the world to me after my family and my own animals.

This is my home, and after all these years, and all the battles I have taken on to remain here, I have an incredibly intimate connection with and fierce attachment to the land.  And for that land, I have a moral obligation.  For that land, I have to speak up and do what I can to protect the land, wilds and wildlife.

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Playing God

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As humans, we have a tendency to (1) want to care for those we feel need care; (2) want to prove we can do it – whatever it is – at whatever cost; (3) never want to admit we are wrong; and (4) want to control our environment rather than simply be in it.

Combine these all together, and you have the perfect formula for this program.

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In spite of waning public opinion and growing concerns with sightings of these normally elusive animals on  roads and/or seemingly starving, at some point, the powers that be called their own program “a success.”  I recall reading that “the success” was based on this:  there were more cats born that year than cats that died.  Oh my god.  Do you know how many kittens are in a litter?  Now do the math.  And see if you can figure this out:  how many deaths then were they thus responsible for each year?

And how many millions of dollars were poured into this program to support these efforts… and by whom?

How many millions were spent trapping live animals in Canada, and (we must hope) caring for them in transit, rehab and relocating in to Colorado. On top of that, how many millions more were spent on salaries and snowmobiles and flights, and fossil fuels used to track from the air and trap in the snow?

The only “facts” and “figures” I can find are those provided by the very same people operating this program.

How do we find the truth about these beautiful animals with which we’ve played god, uprooting them from their native lands and turning them out to see what would happen here?

With all the monies poured into this program on behalf of one species, did anyone consider the affect upon other species who now have to co-exist in these changing times, in this changing climate, such as the bobcat, the coyote, and the fox?  What impact would the “success” of the lynx have them?

I do care. About them all.

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Keep trying… keep spending… money and life… sooner or later, it’s going to work!

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Sure, some will make it.  Look at the moose.  They were never here before and were dropped off and for whatever crazy unknown reason, they are currently thriving. The lynx is not as lucky, but he’s still around.

Before you support or negate this program, I would suggest you try to find the facts.  What are the numbers?  The real numbers – not those readily provided by the program.  How many were released? How many died? How much money was spent?  Where did the money come from, and where did it go?

And while you’re at it, ask them this:  why?

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Success, they have called it. I suppose after all the monies and lives expended, they have to. And who has thought to question? We are all guilty of wanting this to work so badly we were willing to forgo the facts.  Now we have to ask: success for whom, and at what expense?

Updates from the Upper Rio Grande

/ Gin Getz / 6 Comments

Though I rarely mention our guest ranch business with my personal business, the two are of course intertwined and both a part of me. So… here’s the latest from the guest ranch side of me:

 

Updates from the Upper Rio Grande

lost trail ranch

Woven into winter… dreaming of favorite places… taking you back to where you want to be…

 

Dear Friends of Lost Trail Ranch,

As the shrill call of the Redwing Blackbird this week heralds their return to the mountain and brings the promise of spring to our otherwise wintry landscape, we turn our attention towards the seasons upcoming.  We welcome you to this beautiful new year, trusting it is a great one so far for you, and hope to have the chance to see many of you in the year ahead.

Some exciting news to share with you:

First, we’re getting a brand new web site!  Same location (www.lost-trail.com) but a whole new look.  After over a dozen years of toying with our home-made web site – based on the assumption that the beauty of the place is enough to capture your attention and your heart – we’re are super excited to be launching a completely new site, designed and implemented by the extraordinarily talented Kara Brittain of B4Studio (www.b4studio.com). The site is in the works, bringing a beautiful redesign and wonderful working interface, featuring personal photos, stories and a clean, clear, easy to read and navigate format.  As we progress with the new site, please take a look, tell us what you think!  It’s a work of art, and still in the works, so your feedback would be most appreciated.

And… your involvement!

We would love your help in this process.  Please read on…

Stories! Would you be willing to share a story?  Instead of the usual rave reviews and recommendations or interesting historic tid-bits from the area, what would be more fun and endearing than to read, share and exchange your personal stories of a special time or event or memory created here at Lost Trail Ranch on the website? Perhaps a tale of awakening to the blessing of an early snow or brilliant rainbow, a wild ride on ATV up to the Divide, a wonderful wildlife viewing, a bunch of song and laugher around a campfire, or the one that got away.  Please write (e-mail us) and share! We’d love to read your stories…  Okay, I’ll be the first… (story to follow)

Pictures!  Have any special pictures you might be willing and able to share with us on the site, too? Perhaps of your favorite place, cabin or part of the cabin that means something dear to you, a quiet moment captured lounging in the sun with a good book in a quiet corner of your cozy cabin, laughing around a camp fire or chillin’ on the front deck.  Perhaps of your favorite activity, be it an awesome hike, mountain bike ride or ATV adventure, your favorite fishing hole (if you don’t mind sharing your secrets), a fun day spent in Lake City or Creede, an exhilarating exploration up the mountain?  We’d love to see and share your images, from family time or a romantic couple get-away or just the beauty of the cabins and surrounding mountains. When you find a few minutes, please look through some of your favorites, and send ‘em this way if you’re willing and able to share the beauty!

More exciting news:  This summer will be the first season we are proudly offering Hill Top Cabin as a part of our rental fleet!  Hill Top Cabin is the big, beautiful, private and pristine cabin about a quarter mile up the road from the main ranch, on top of the hill (thus the name) overlooking the ranch, the valley and the reservoir (talk about views!). This opportunity is a dream come true for many who have inquired over the years… now it’s a reality! We are pleased to announce weekly rentals offered from Sunday to Sunday (our main cabins are Saturday to Saturday), June through mid October.  Please write us for more details, inquiries and/or to make reservations for the upcoming summer season.

Other news and updates of interest:

On a personal note… Bob & Gin have just returned from another season in Argentina, and are back to working on their home by the river, writing a new book, and starting an exciting new chapter of their life together. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world… or rather, the end of the world! Forrest will be wintering (our summer is his winter) at the South Pole.  That’s a lot of cold, dark days while we’ll be here enjoying the comfort and beauty of the Colorado high mountain sun! Some say he was raised for such a situation, but no matter the stories we’ve told you, it really never get’s that rough here.  All we know is, we’ll miss him – and hope he manages to stay as warm as one can in the eternal darkness where winter temps average -76 degrees F.

Finally, what are YOU doing this summer?  Hoping you’ll be able to be here for at least a week to get your mountain fix!  Interested in spending a month or more here at Lost Trail Ranch?  We’re looking for a couple of good caretakers – your own private cabin in exchange for minimal daily chores, meeting and greeting, and helping out on the weekend with turnover. This is a non paid position; perfect for someone(s) looking to just getaway and enjoy the peace and privacy of the mountain and our guests for an extended period of time.  Please drop us an e-mail if this sound interesting…

Hope to see  y’all soon!

With warmest regards,

Lost Trail Ranch

e-mail:  losttrailranch@gmail.com

address:  18100 USFS Rd 520, Creede, CO 81130

website:  www.lost-trail.com

~along the upper rio grande

 

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Hill Top Cabin

 

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down river at ute creek

 

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