Bass Line to the Birds

Excellent weather lately. Its been dry and cool (highs in the lower 70s) and the bugs have finally given it a break. I found a cheap bass guitar amp in Houghton last week and I took it out on the porch and plucked some bass riffs to the birds and beasts. My old 1966 Silvertone bass lives at the cottage on Otter Lake now and it gets more use than it has in years. I'm glad it survived all these years. I had held it as a relic or sorts and seldom played it after I got a Fender. But after I set the "action" properly I re-discovered that it is amazingly easy to play.

Sometimes the simple pleasures are the coolest.

Espresso and the Wood Stove

Delicious!

A wonderful espresso made on the wood stove. An old camping espresso maker--kept mostly as a novelty--did its thing on the woodstove this morning. The maple cut in the last two years burns wonderfully slow and hot and the little espresso maker worked like a charm. Now if I can make it with locally roasted beans and some of the spring water from up the hill I will be on my way to brewing locally--even if I am not feeling particularly global this morning.

Wide Margins!!!

"I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sing around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune. As the sparrow had its trill, sitting on the hickory before my door, so had I my chuckle or suppressed warble which he might hear out of my nest. My days were not days of the week, bearing the stamp of any heathen deity, nor were they minced into hours and fretted by the ticking of a clock; for I lived like the Puri Indians, of whom it is said that "for yesterday, today, and tomorrow they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by pointing backward for yesterday forward for tomorrow, and overhead for the passing day." This was sheer idleness to my fellow-townsmen, no doubt; but if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard, I should not have been found wanting. A man must find his occasions in himself, it is true. The natural day is very calm, and will hardly reprove his indolence." -- Thoreau, Walden

A Slice of Life at Otter Lake

Two days ago we were sweltering in 90 degrees. Since then the thermometer hasn’t risen past 62, and at night we’re down in the 40’s and happy to light fires in the stove. Good thing we turned Al and Agnes’ would-be outhouse into a woodshed these past couple of summers. We’ve got plenty of wood to enjoy fires this month!

Each morning we wake up “whenever.” Often I first open my eyes before dawn, then try to doze until there are traces of light in the sky, signifying that it’s at least 6:30 or maybe closer to 7am. When we’re lucky we catch a glimpse of a pinkish orangeish sunrise. The day begins with coffee – half-caf on our new regime -- but not before feeding the dog, who is ecstatic that we FINALLY got up.

Each day then unfolds as it will. Depending on the weather, there may be brush-cutting or kayaking or wood-chopping, walk/runs, yoga and reading. A couple of times a week we go to town for food and errands, and once a week David takes his Triumph to Chassell to get our mail packet.

The pace of everything is leisurely and the scenery is just fantastic. Just about every day one or both of us says, “Isn’t this beautiful?”

Sometimes it is disconcerting to be this “unprogrammed” and therefore present to our truer selves. But even in the uncomfortable moments I am so sure this is important time. Long may it resonate.

First Day

Its finally begun, our "Adventure Year". Our long awaited time for ourselves. As of today, no one has the prerogative to call us to their emergencies. Two years ago we began such a "sabbatical" only to be called back to work, vocation, and the continued meaning of ministry. But now literally years later we are again at the beginning of this strange trek we call Walden Year. I feel a sense of excitement while at the same time a deepening sense of calm.

I savor every minute.

Its difficult to plan the way ahead for we really do not know the geography. Without maps or even a compass we are led on only by our instinct for simplicity and and our desire for self direction. The question, "What are your plans?" although seemingly innocent is quite close to an insult right now. Perhaps in time we will rise above such defensiveness--but for now I want to live free!

catching up

Loose Chicken Stephanie here.

I haven't been writing; not sure why. It seems such a fertile time to record thoughts, feelings, experience. Came across a piece Margie gave me a couple of months ago about using the kitchen timer as a writer's aid. During a "writing hour" you set the timer, then allow no interruptions. No phone (easy), no email checking (harder), no internet. At all. The only documents you may have open are your current project and your journal. Certainly there are internet temptations. It's right here on the same machine. Fantasy Baseball, my great time waster since April, is calling every time games are being played, which is part of every day.

But more than that, it's getting over some kind of inertia, I think. This blog is like a journal, not completely private but pretty private. So far only Dave and I know about it, and we will probably keep it that way. That's what I've assumed so far. These posts are not for the world; they are for me, and for Dave.

So July has been a month of shape-shifting. Gradually shedding the parish ministry identity (again), supporting Mom as she becomes increasingly independent, setting up the business details of our new house (and there are so many of these), stripping wallpaper, doing yoga (literal shape shifting!).

Tonight we are going to have dinner with Jory and Jeb and Gretchen. We did this two years ago also in July, and I'm realizing ruefully that we were in the same place, having just shed parish ministry and intending to take a break to see what might emerge. What emerged all too quickly last time was two more years of church. Yes, it was not solo ministry and no, I don't regret it. Last time, just as Work Less, Live More predicted, was kind of a practice departure from church life. Now we get another change, and perhaps we're more ready this time. Or less likely to be tempted back before the experiment really takes root.

Our copies of Walden arrived the other day. I hadn't realized Thoreau died when he was only 44. He went into the woods at 30. His writing was not much appreciated while he was alive, but became influential later, and remains so. You never know.

Here is my baby step beginning at writing again. I will try to do *something* every day, with the possible exception of our travel days to Otter Lake. We're leaving Sunday!! Will be lovely to go back to that clean air, cooler weather (hopefully) and our wonderful all ours cottage. By next Tuesday we should be there. Wahoo!!

Meanwhile, a new commitment to write.

The vast sea not yet traveled.

Theologian Karl Rahner once wrote, "...what is called knowledge in everyday parlance, is only a small island in a vast sea that has not been traveled... "

When one is constrained by obligations to others or to preordained schedules it is easy to imagine that we don't have the freedom or time ("free time") to pursue knowledge beyond the security of our little island of knowledge. But once freed of such excuses it is humbling to realize how often we would far rather be miserable than to change.

Liberate me from the chains of my island of routine, O Lord, and let me see the world as it is-- unfettered by my conventions and self assurances.

.

I want to see what's out there.