Some time passes

I want to pay tribute to a life lived.
To a mother's heart.
To the heart's brokenness.
To memory kept alive.
To stories told.
To the island that waits.

I pay with tears.
With my friend heart.

With love.
Always with love.

Pair of Albino Ravens

2010 begins with gifts from Nature.  One in particular was a surprise on Tuesday, January 12th.
The sky was blue.  I heard the wings and voices of ravens behind me.  When I turned around
and looked up to see them in flight, there were two flying side by side. White! They flew
over me and into the cedar trees.

It took a while to research the incidence of albinism in ravens and crows.........and the locations.  Someone suggested that I alert the Whidbey Island Audubon Society, and I did. The next evening they had their meeting. One of my housemates attended and said that they announced the sighting at the meeting....and that the announcement was met with disbelief and dismissiveness. I'm not a "birder," and the experts did not observe it, so it must not exist. I wish the experts would tell me what I saw and heard!  Another friend - and Island Woman - suggested that perhaps the pair of ravens had spiritual significance and were meant only for me.  I finally found an image, similar to what I witnessed, by Canadian photographers on Vancouver Island, who I credit (www.redtailsphotography.ca):

More from Shirley Jantz

Let us open our doors
to the songs of Nature

Expose ourselves to the Quiet Divine where it's now unthinkable ~
amidst board meetings, lectures, research, policy-making

Schools of thought ~
come bare to the sensuous outdoors

How would it be to listen to the Earth's Love
and shine it back to the skies...

For what are rites of passage
without the Cosmos and the Wisdom within

Be Daring! Bodacious even!

Come... Run naked with the Sacred
and let the World come Alive

Shirley Jantz
and this Old Earth



Shirley Jantz
T'ai Chi, Qigong,
�� and Foot Reflexology for Wellness

From Shirley Jantz -

Digital Image, Moon Over Saratoga Passage, by Ann Johnson



Awakened by Poetry

Full moon stirrings
nudge this creative mind

Images from day, dancing across flannel,
resting on feather pillow

Let me sleep, I beg
but the words keep arising

One poem, then another
A muse beneath the sheets
tickling my fancy with phrases

Who can resist these writer’s temptations?
A Lover knows not how
heart acquiescent, eyes softly open

Hand dreamily reaches for an instrument

Shirley Jantz
October 2009

*************

Ode to Autumn

Agh! look out below!
Walnuts being whirled from telephone wires
by determined Crows cracking shells upon pavement,
chasing tasty morsels downhill, as if for entertainment

Up! hands sheltering head ~
Robins every which way in a feeding frenzie
Discovering succulent tall tree berries
I wonder, should there be more caution
when flying while intoxicated?

Oh dear, deer and more deer
reaching for Gravensteins
while regal Stellar Jay repeatedly buries peanuts
where potatoes once lay,
soon to be undone by squirrels who become acrobatic
in a game of nut chase

Turning gaze from the festivities outside
to find one last large zucchini ~ waiting
“Later,” I say, with a sigh of satisfaction, a grin of gratitude
wide across my face, having recently completed
apple custard, crumble, sauce & slices
After all, these too, are a few of my favorite things

What a sight, we creatures of nature,
me in my apron, they in their glory
harvesting this bodacious bounty
Delighted in merriment, savoring the feast ~
soon to be settling in for a long winters snack

Shirley Jantz
October 2009

Discoveries - Dark of the Moon & Solar Eclipse

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Fluid Summer

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Go Slowly


Some would say
I should hurry,
move quickly,
time’s a-wasting

The conscious decision
to attend
requires
Not-Quite-Slow-Motion,
entering time differently.

The summer opens up
new knowings:
a soft flutter of bee’s wings kissing my hand,
a conversation with a preening crayfish
following a rainstorm,
bird voices tuning a morning meadow,
stained-glass chambers of light
in a sunflower leaf.

If hurrying, I would have missed
twin fawns playing
before my interview in the park.

If distracted in thought,
I would have missed the
waving pinchers of a roan stag beetle.

If too engaged elsewhere,
I would have missed
raindrops on strands of grass,
the iridescence of the beetle
sipping from wet globes.

Join me at this pace
in silence,
in unity,
in witness.

Robin's Entry

June 15, 2009
Five days until the summer solstice. These days leading to summer are what I live for the rest of the year, sad to say. Here on the island, the lengthening days, the cool evening shadows, the birds that wake me at 4:30 a.m., the doors and open windows, the cats and the dog in and out at their leisure – yes, this is a bit of paradise.

Today I sit at my computer rummaging through books to find citations for a paper on the mythopoetic adolescent – Homer, Melville, Morrison, epics and poetry. On the stereo a bit of world music, a bit of a French ballad, and every now and then Mary Chapin Carpenter’s pop country play as accompaniment. The maple tree just outside the window here at my desk is fully leafed out, gloriously green in her raiment. An island story says that about 50 years ago, I think, a local woman went around the south end of the island planting maple trees. I like to believe that this beauty that keeps my close company was one of hers. I know the time of year by watching the maple tree.

Beginning in March, I am always impatient to begin potting up plants and putting new perennials in the garden. Our last frost date is April 15, however. To plant any earlier is a bit of a waste of time. The plants simply sit quiet, not unfurling their leaves or putting out any hint of a blossom until it is warmer. May is a good time to plant. This year I have potted up nasturtiums which I love as do the rabbits and the aphids. I have some trailing violet-like flowers, variegated ivy, dianthus in hot and pale pinks – the rabbits love them all. I actually still have pansies from last fall still blooming, despite our snowstorms and freezing rains this winter. In the garden I have added some lady’s mantle because its leaves make such beautiful saucers for rain, hollyhock that I hope shoots up to the stars, more golden oregano, more thyme, and every year I have more columbine finding a bit of ground to claim. I can’t have too much columbine. It’s even growing in the old cedar tree trunk in the middle of the garden.

Through the long days of winter, I fret, whine, and drag myself through the days. They are difficult. I try to appreciate each day, not take myself out of the present moment by wishing for it to pass. But winters on Whidbey for me are very hard. I can get through them knowing that summer comes – inevitably, always. I am grateful and then pray that the earth will spin a bit slower so that I can soak these days into my skin, into my cells, so I carry light into the darkness when it comes again.

Welcome Summer. Well come.

Inland (Inner Land) Water Sources

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

I Tried Till I Was Blue in the Face

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Oh, my goodness. City living was such a challenge for me. I didn't realize just how much of an Island soul I am. I am visiting downstate Illinois at the moment. Summer began yesterday, marked by stifling humidity; a lightning bug floating by midday; a walk with three young women: my daughter, her friend from Estonia (remember the documentary, The Singing Revolution?), and her friend from Germany who is a new mother. This morning a dragonfly landed on the path in front of me, all four wings vibrating in syncopated rhythm that soon came to stillness.

I am witnessing the impacts of the Great Recession in all my travels. An Irish film crew put together a dark comedy in the form of a silent movie. You may find it interesting on

YouTube: Scenes from the Great Recession, 2009 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gAfPWnRvRM

For 36 hours this week (June 15-17), I had the feeling once again of having a job to return to following my August Residency, along with the promise of retirement and health benefits. A school offered me a job, but daily were in heavy union negotiations. The job offer came Monday afternoon and was retracted Wednesday morning! "We no longer have a position to offer you. We may have federal stimulus money coming to create a position, but there is no guarantee. Sorry, Ann." The travels in rural Illinois to go to interviews have provided lots of material for short video clips, photos and poetry.

Uncommon Fields

Planted pockets are tucked
into a communion of oaks
and maples and osage.
The Farmer
buttons up a narrow
placket
with corn
between the roadway
and the rails.
Across the road
on long shirttails of soil,
golden mustard
paints the set-aside lands
surrounding the red barn
under the sea blue sky.

PARABOLA's Summer Issue

Digital Images, Marina Dawn and Signposts, by Ann Johnson

The summer issue of PARABOLA has the theme of Water that may be of interest to Island Women and their soulvoices.

No (wo)man is an island, entire of itself every (wo)man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main

John Donne

Spirals, Rains, & Traffic

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Seeds of an Open Heart

Digital Images by Ann Johnson


On the way back to my sister's, I distributed the Nasturtium seeds in the dirt between sprouting grass, dandelions, a crushed Marlboro flip-box, an empty prescription bottle, wadded up McDonald's hamburger paper, and a stomped-on Mt. Dew bottle. It will be interesting to see if any of the "guerrilla greening" will sprout. Nasturtiums thrive on neglect and flower more profusely in poor soil........and are edible! I'm all for edible lovelies.


I also found a noon performance by a string quartet doing Hadyn's The Last Seven Words of Christ within walking distance. On the way and back, the songs of robins, cardinals and mourning doves kept me company.

Breathe with the Tides

Video and Poem, Humble Flow, by Ann Johnson

Humble Flow

She used to speak with THAT TONE
and the raw sense of self-assured knowing
until the Universe humbled her
and she accepted the offer.

[Note: begin soundtrack for the transformation –
Arvo Part’s Spiegel im Spiegel (Mirror in Mirror)]

And now she watches energy flow
through a lens of contemplation.
The lens of amusement became self-righteous and cynical
and was discarded.

So, take the invitation to walk with her,
to breathe in and breathe out,
to step between the tides.

See how bids are made
for the wave to crest
at one shore or another.

How some keep the harbor free-flowing
and others begin to erect a dam
while standing on the pier shouting,
fist to the heavens.

How even others wander the pebble beach, chanting,
dip their toes in the waves,
then move out into the current, past their knees, immersed
to the level of their open arms and hearts.

You that prefer, as crows do,
Winter’s chill and the empty limbs,

notice now this that fills
with new leaves and roses opening
and the night bird’s song.

Let your love dissolve also
into this season’s moment,

or when it’s over, you’ll buy
lamp after lamp to find it.

Rumi

Travel and Return

After finishing the Goodard Residency, I returned to the Island and sat around the kitchen table with friends making art. There's no place like home....(clicking the heels of my ruby slippers).

John O'Donohue's Words of Blessing

Digital image Whidbey Island Rainbow by Ann Johnson

......
May a flock of colours
indigo, red, green
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight

May the nourishment of the earth be yours
may the clarity of the light be yours
may the fluency of the ocean be yours
may the protection of the ancestors be yours

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you
an invisibe cloak
to mind your life

~~~John O'Donohue
from "Beannact" (Blessing)

Between Tides

I've lived on islands much of my life, my first eighteen years on Oahu, my latest twenty two on Whidbey Island, and, more than anything else, to me it means a subtle, ever-present awareness of two worlds so different that they often seem in opposition.

The core experience, for me, is that of walking on the beach, walking a fine line between the fluidity, the expanse of the sea hidden by the mirror of the surface and the seemingly solid land. The beach itself is littered with physical remains of what has lived and is now gone, shells, bones, seaweed fronds, feathers. It has a starkness, a blunt challenge to life in either world.

At one time, after an intensive marine biology course, I could name just about any species of animal or plant you might find there, and those who can endure the drought and heat or chill of air alternating with the flood of salt water are relatively few, compared to the richness of both land and sea. They're tough, often relying on solid shell houses to guard themselves. Or they move easily up and down through the sand, hiding their soft bodies from the air.

The sea itself is mystery, a blue or gray green expanse broken by a fin, or the head of a seal, watching with huge dark eyes. Strange shapes come out of it, pulled up on the end of a fishing line, or tangled in a net. There's part of me that wants to dive into it, to live there, at least for a while.

I remember some scuba diving lessons that ended with a descent to 100 feet in the clear Hawaiian water, the bright colors and intricate shapes surrounding me. And I remember diving in other, darker waters, the sensation of sinking down, away from the brilliance of the surface into a place without boundaries of any kind, where it seemed that anything could come out of the dim distance.

I wouldn't want to be without that world, in its literal form as sea, and in its mythic and spiritual form as a surrounding reality that is much larger that this physical life. And I like living here, in smallness and ordinariness.

But most of all, I like walking within the tide zone, where sea washes over sands that shift to erase every footprint, giving a sort of anonymity to the journey. This feels like home.

Solstice

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

A gift from one of my Waldorf students lights the way this Solstice. The hearts of children eternally shift us into hope-filled living. We are filled with gratitude for all that surrounds us. Light returns to turn the Wheel.

Solstice Blessings