The power of moving water that has traveled many miles is a mighty sweep of mind that displaces all the detritus and details and picky little annoyances of life, and smashes them to bits, and brings me back to nothingness - more than than I ever get on the mat or on the cushion or by watching my breath.
Willamette River
Rolling Down the Deschutes River
Rivers call out for a song, their various facets and qualities changing and amorphous - the meandering or rollicking currents, the broad then narrow passages, rolling reflections and scenery, the power that lies beneath the seemingly endless flow. Roll along with me...
Island Adventures
Bridges, birds, boats, beach, bouldering, blueberries, big open spaces, and beauty - Sauvie Island has something for everyone.
Wordless Wednesday
Winter considers Spring. #wordlessWednedays
It’s Quiet Here
The sun glistens on the water, wild daisies shimmer in the breeze near my feet, and the warmth from the rock seeps into my hips. Tiny waves lap on the rocky shore. A stand-up paddler passes, barely a wake behind her, and I wonder in this quiet, do I really want this quarantine to end?
The Equinox Blues Turns Yellow and Red
It's one of those sparkly days between rains as the sun came out again (note to self: AS IT DOES) .... The mid-October gift of sunshine makes me feel like the Grinch as his heart grows three sizes bigger.
Sprung
When we first arrived in Portland our son warned us that spring was actually several seasons in one - fake spring, late winter, early spring, summer, real spring, winter again, and so on.
The Nick of Time
But what a difference a day makes. Last Friday most everything melted. The skies cleared and views of the Cascades showed gleaming snow-capped peaks. Clouds of the white and fluffy sort drifted lazily in a dazzling blue sky. The temperature climbed to 50, which we haven't seen in a while. Or at least I don't remember; perhaps it's frozen out of recollection.
40 Million Years Later
A place where we're reminded that once upon a time no humans walked, where human strife didn't exist, where none of this, none of us, mattered.
Hearing the Music Again
Many years ago, when I began hormone replacement therapy, my practitioner promised that I would once again "hear the music play." I thought, what a great metaphor for enjoying life. I knew that sensation of hair raising, goose bumpy, tear inducing awe. When retirement came along, I wanted to likewise recapture the music, and rekindle … Continue reading Hearing the Music Again
Rivers and Roads PDX 