My Basement Window

"May it be a light to you in dark places..." ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

In the wonderful place where I'm now living, I spend a lot of time working on my laptop in the family room in the basement.  In Oregon, especially as we enter into November, most people would not choose to be working in a basement.  Generally basements here (if they exist at all due to the water table) would not typically be considered "bright places".

Yet my basement is.

Do we notice the little miracles all around us each day?  Many people think the Pacific Northwest is dark in the winter.  It is very true that those us of who have lived here for a while recall many a week of all cloudy days.  Last winter in particular was historically rainy, even for here!

I moved from a place that had floor to ceiling windows, exceptionally bright, as well as multiple skylights.  I had lived there many years.  I have often said that the Pacific Northwest is not actually a place where one becomes familiar with the darkness - it's a place where one becomes familiar with the Light.  I had never heard the term "sunbreak" until I first moved to Oregon, a sudden break in the clouds.

I'd say what I'm experiencing now, in my new basement, is more like a "sun flash". 

Light comes to us where we are, when we choose to see it, when we accept how it arrives.  And then perhaps we glimpse the purposes of the darkness.

"Nature Religion" at my Door

"Forgive me that I cannot kneel

And worship in this pew,

For I have knelt in western dawns,

When the stars were large and few"

~ "God's Creed", Ella Higginson, 1861-1940

It's a rare morning when the front page of a city's newspaper shares the heartfelt words of Ella Higginson, a poet laureate of Washington state.  I'm happy to discover Ella - she and I are clearly kindred spirits on the path in many ways.

The excerpt from her poem God's Creed appeared in the following story:  Do you see God in a sunset?  "Nature religion" may be the signature spirituality of the Pacific Northwest.  

Apparently another study (this one by Baylor University) has awarded Portland the distinction of being the most unchurched city in the entire United States - and Oregon the most unchurched state.  

This particular study took a rather unique approach: 

"Researchers compared the richness of natural amenities in every U.S. county to religious adherents per 1,000 people.  They found that areas with higher rates of amenities have lower rates of religious adherence."

I'm not at all surprised.  Like Ella, I walk the passages of "Nature's church" most days of the week, and even when I must remain at home, my church sends missionaries to my door.

What Wings Are For...

"No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings." ~ William Blake

I was about a mile down the trail when a woman approached, wearing a "California State Parks" jacket.

"Did you see the bald eagle?" she asked, her binoculars in hand.

I never bring my binoculars on my walks anymore. I prefer my Nature the natural way - up close and personal. Why I took the binoculars this morning, I really couldn't say, but in my rush out the door, I just knew I had to grab them.

She was also in a rush. She said she had never been to Oregon, and she had to check out of her hotel soon. But she had heard there were eagles here, so she had made a special stop.

And sure enough, even without binoculars, there it was, quietly sitting on a branch. From the stark jaggedness of where it perched, one might think it was a vulture.

I have seen the eagles before, but not every day. When they fly above my head, it is always a miracle. My life is filled with miracles lately, and eagles seem to follow.

And then the woman had to run. I asked her if she had seen the forest. "No."
My sacred forest is a magical place, somewhat like the entrance into Narnia. It doesn't look like much at first until you wander in. It was not something to be missed, even for 5 minutes. And so she hastened off, eager to stop by the forest, leaving me alone.

This time I needed binoculars. Yes, there it was. The eagle. Still as could be. Always distinctive, always impressive, the white contrasting with the black, without a doubt an eagle. I could have stood there and enjoyed that view for hours. Nothing moved.

I shifted my view to the nest. I had seen it many times, far too distant to make out any real details. But I had my binoculars today. I had listened...

And to my surprise, there it was. The baby eagle appeared in the nest, staying safely inside, yet tentatively stretching out and testing its beautiful wings. It was a kind of an awakening, as if easing into knowing just what wings are for. My eyes filled with tears, understanding...

And then I saw her, on a branch below, yet another. "Are You My Mother?" came to mind, a favorite long ago. Was she guarding? Or showing the way? When would her baby fly?

The moment was sacred, as if frozen in time, until I thought to reach for my camera. By the time I had it ready, the baby was suddenly up on a branch. How did it get there? Did it walk? Did it climb? Did it jump? Or did it Fly? The mother knows...

Look closely....yes, there are 3...this is the best my little phone could do...yet perfect.

Photo Copyright Susan Larison Danz, 2014